MarySmith’sPlace ~ #Decision #CancerUpdate43

Those of you who follow this blog will know I had an appointment with the oncologist immediately after my Islay holiday.

There wasn’t really anything new to hear about my cancer. I’d read the information on the chemotherapy drugs and their potential side-effucks: nausea; fatigue; loss of appetite and weight loss; peripheral neuropathy; blood clots; breathlessness and a serious impact on my immune system. One drug would be given every three weeks at the cancer centre, the other would be a capsule taken twice a day in between the three-weekly cycle.

The chemotherapy would be four, possibly six cycles – so 12 to 18 weeks – of feeling rubbish, not being able to go out much. I’d have a CT scan after the first two cycles to see what, if any, impact the drugs were having.

The treatment is in no way curative and if it is successful could extend my life by two months. Of course, I could be the outlier who survives for a few years, but it’s not very likely. And how would I feel during those extra eight weeks? Not bouncing with health, that’s for sure.

I asked how long I might have if I didn’t take any treatment (knowing it’s not possible to give an accurate prediction) and was told ‘definitely three months’ and possibly as much as six months. Mind you, this is from the person who said at the end of May I could expect two or three years. I wouldn’t put my money on her predictions.

I think I’d probably made my decision when I was on Islay and the week after seeing the oncologist I turned down the option of further chemotherapy. It’s a relief not to have to keep thinking about it, weighing up the options and wondering if I’m making the right decision.

I’ll let you know how things go.