I started back on chemo yesterday.
The pain I’ve been getting in my left hip area has been increasing of late, so after speaking with Dr Hofmann it was decided that I should try having a lower dose of Oxaliplatin at weekly intervals. Way back in February of this year, I was taken off Oxaliplatin because I was suffering several side-effects, the most serious of which was larygngeal spasm: not something I can recommend. However, we discussed possible options, and it was decided to lower the dose dramatically, and to place me on prophylactic steroids and piriton prior to having chemo, in the hope that this would help. Needless to say, everyone was a little twitchy as the infusion started, and Paul was on standby, hovering over my buttocks with adrenaline, just in case!
Thankfully, no reaction, so the problem seems to be dose-related, rather than a sensitivity reaction. Of course, we are not totally out of the woods yet as the drug will accumulate over the next weeks, so we’ll see what happens as the course progresses.
But maybe we’ve just bought me a little more time, for which I am eternally grateful 
I got a phone call on Thursday to tell me my genetic typing result. I had a better than average (65%) chance of the tumour being susceptible, but unfortunately I fall into the 35% category, so can’t have the monoclonal antibody treatment.
So, I went for the usual chemo yesterday, and will go for my re-scheduled CT scan on Monday. I will get the result of the scan next Friday.
What a wonderful weekend of parties!
Last Friday evening, Faith, Dina, Diane, Sue and I went out to celebrate my birthday. We went to a local Italian restaurant, where we discovered – very bizarrely – that there was another Jane Gregory having a meal there, and Sue almost ended up with the wrong party! Thankfully, the girls didn’t subject me to the ultimate humiliation – wearing a hat with candles on whilst being serenaded (if that is the right word) by the rest of the diners! A lovely evening, and so nice to see everyone again.
On Saturday, Paul and I were invited to Jane Rowbotham’s for afternoon tea. Jane (for those of you who don’t know) is one of the Principal Tutors in Hygiene & Therapy at LDI, and had the misfortune to be the first person to be saddled with me when I started at the Dental School.
After a slight ‘incident’ on the way across (Paul had to do an emergency stop, so the bottles, which had been happily sitting on the back seat moments before, suddenly found themselves smashed on the floor), we arrived at Jane and Peter’s to find that most of my colleagues in H&T were there with their families. Jane had thoughtfully arranged superb weather, so we had a lovely afternoon in the garden, watching the children play whilst chatting away. Very many thanks to Jane for providing all the food and drinks – especially my surprise Birthday Cake – and to everyone for being there.
On Sunday, we had arranged to go for a meal at Cubley Hall near Penistone, with several friends. This was both a belated birthday meal and also a ‘farewell’ meal for Michael, who leaves for a year in Japan this week (Wednesday). The food was typically superb, and Jill had made and decorated a second birthday cake for me, so there was more singing and blowing-out of candles. A fantastic way to end a wonderful weekend – my heartfelt thanks to everyone for making it so special
Well, despite the very best efforts of Ondansetron and Cyclizine, I still managed to end being in my forties with my head in a bucket. Ah well, at least it was memorable!
This morning I was dragged from my bed by the early arrival of the District Nurses. After a cheery welcome of ‘Happy Birthday!’, they proceeded to change my syringe driver. 
After they left, I weighed up my options and decided I might as well stay up rather than return to bed, so spent the next few minutes happily opening all my cards.
Very many thanks to you all for your good wishes, cards and presents – and, of course, to Peter for singing down the phone to me!
Just home from the second round of chemo. Dr Hofmann (oncologist) came to see me before I started, to find out more about the symptoms I had experienced last time – all of which had been much worse than at any other time. So, it was decided that I would have a syringe driver attached to administer Cyclizine (an anti-emetic AND anti-psychotic, just to cover all bases!) over the next 48 hours. Which means I have the portable pump going in to the PICC line in my left arm, and the syringe driver attached to my right arm – all of which makes life very interesting!
Not to worry, it seems to be doing the trick, and I don’t feel anywhere near as nauseous as last time.
Dr Hofmann also called to see me before I left for home (that’s never happened before, so she must’ve been concerned about me), and in addition to asking how I felt, said that the genetic test results aren’t back so we are still in limbo as regards incorporating the additional chemo as we blast the cancer cells.
On a joyous note, I have had a happy few days as friends called round with early birthday cards and presents, realising that I may not feel in the mood to celebrate tomorrow. We took in a selection of drinks and chocolates (not that I would ever condone the imbibing of alcohlic beverages or the consumption of sugary treats) for the chemo nurses, so that they could celebrate on my behalf. They all seemed to have an extra skip in their step as they went about their work today…
Well, not so much a fact as a joke, which Paul found yesterday in the Sunday Times. Under the circumstances, I thought I’d share:
“A woman takes her duck to the vet. The vet says ‘Sorry, it’s dead.’
The woman says, ‘I don’t believe it.’
The vet calls in a labrador dog who sniffs the duck, lowers its head dolefully, shakes it left and right, and walks out.
In walks a cat, licks the duck, lowers its head, and sadly nods. It leaves.
The vet says, ‘That’ll be £1,000.’
The lady says, ‘That’s outrageous.’
The vet responds, ‘It would have been £200 but you’ve got to add the lab report and the cat scan.’”
Yesterday I had my first round of chemotherapy, so now I have returned to ‘Toxic Woman’ status.
If you missed my original post about chemotherapy, you can read it near the beginning of my blog, entitled “Tell me why – I don’t like Mondays.” I now need Sir Bob to bring out another song called “Tell me why – I don’t like Wednesdays” because yesterday was pretty grim.
I had spoken to the oncologist on Monday about prescribing me something different to help with the intense nausea that I experience (I had decided to take to heart her words “Stop being brave!”), so was given Aprepitant along with Ondansetron. If that’s the good stuff, I’ll stick with the bad stuff. In addition to feeling so sick that I had to come home with a just-in-case bowl (that’s never happened before), I had the headache from hell which meant that I took to my bed and didn’t move (apart from very, very carefully getting changed) until 7am this morning.
The only advantage I could see was that I did at least sleep rather better than usual on chemo night – a small price to pay for feeling so ill.
On a happier note, it was good to meet up with my old comrade-in-cancer, John, yesterday morning. He’s 67-years old, as fit as a butcher’s dog, and sounds to have had his bowel tumour successfully removed. With a bit of luck, he should finish his mop-up course of chemo in a few weeks, and then he’s on review. Our paths have intermittently crossed, so it was very good to hear his positive news.
No doubt he is just returning from his early morning 5-mile walk, whereas I am just returning to the land of the living. But at least I have been able to eat a light breakfast, which shows a definite improvement after yesterday.
This too will be endured
Today I had appointments to see both the colo-rectal surgeon and the liver surgeon.
First, it was off to Huddersfield for a chat about how my colo-rectal surgery had gone. The surgeon was very pleased, and even suggested the liver surgeon could reverse my stoma when he did the surgery next month. All very upbeat.
Then I went to Leeds to see the liver surgeon, and the news wasn’t so good. The MRI scan has shown that I now have 16 sites in my liver, so he won’t now be doing the surgery as previously planned. Instead, he had just come off the phone to my oncologist, and I go to see her first thing in the morning, with a view to starting chemo again some time this week.
All of which means it’s a good job I didn’t pack my suitcase, as I won’t now be going to Edinburgh.
This too will be endured…
Today I brushed my hair. For the first time in almost 5 months.
Although, come to think of it, it’s probably slightly longer than 5 months because I gave up brushing my hair some time before I had it all shaved off as it just used to end up in clumps on the floor whenever I approached it with any type of hair-styling implement (I did brush my wig, but I don’t think that counts).
So, it’s very nice to now be able to go out in the streets without my wig and not run the risk of frightening the horses.
But, just in case you think my hair is back to its normal length, the postman did address me as ’sir’ when he delivered a parcel the other day. He’s now walking with a permanent limp…
Tuesday saw me nipping over to Jimmy’s in Leeds for my 4th MRI scan. They don’t get any easier to endure, but at least I now know what to expect.
Having changed into a fetching hospital gown, I had to have a cannula inserted into a vein so that the contrast dye could be introduced partway through the scan. The radiographer came along to do it, and asked which arm was best. I told her the chemo team had nabbed the left arm (with my PICC line), so she was stuck with the very small veins in my right arm. She said “Do you mean very small, or just small?”, so I told her that the consultant anaesthetist had taken 3 attempts to find a vein just prior to giving me my general anaesthetic. From the look she gave me, I don’t think that was the right reply.
Cannula finally in place, I went for the scan. When it came to the part where they wallop the side of the scanner with a sledge hammer, I was asked if I wanted to listen to some music “as this will take 4-5 minutes.” All I can say is that her idea of time is somewhat different to mine as we had gone through Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, The 1812 Overture, Air on a G-string, and the Largo from The New World Symphony before the hammering finally subsided, and I was released back into the real world.
This, too, has been endured