Chemotherapy Again

Some words are loaded with menace and fear, like chemotherapy. Not a word I ever wanted to become part of my everyday discourse, and especially with reference to myself. It's a big brute of a  word with for me mostly negative connotations. A word which I've now had to embrace and imbue with positive sentiments. Not easy when it involves filling my body with poisonous, toxic chemicals for eighteen weeks in order to make me better but meantime making me feel like shit. I should be grateful for small mercies, I have a seventy percent survival chance if I get through this. Some folk are not so lucky.

I started the latest round of chemotherapy last Wednesday at the Edinburgh Cancer Centre with two hours of intravenous chemotherapy followed by various flushes, washes, glucose and other stuff either to prepare me or to send me home happy. As usual the nurses and other staff at the Centre were excellent and looked after me superbly well. My big brother came with me to stop me running away. The temptation was there for sure. I got though it with only a wee small tear at the beginning then all was fine and dandy.

They sat me in a nice big comfy chair by the window, and I let them get on with it. Having a cannula installed is never easy but once it's up and running and the drip working the rest is easy peasy, you just sit there and let the lovely chemicals do their bit. So let's hope this is working and destroying all these evil little cancer cells that may or may not be swimming around in my body. Do they swim or run? Maybe they just stroll casually around chatting to their pals as they go on their destructive way.

This will be me for the next eighteen weeks, well seventeen now, not that I'm counting, but it leaves one hundred and seventeen days to go. It has to be done so I'm glad it's begun and I can now see the end of the road in sight. And it's coming on the fourteenth of May, seeing as you ask. I can just about see that last chemo tablet between my fingers just before I pop it in my mouth and it disappears to join the rest of them. How shall we celebrate?

Another five months of my precious time the damn thing has stolen, so I better get a few more months added on at the end times. It seems only fair. In fact a few more years would be better still.

I've been getting daily phone calls from Jackie, an oncology nurse at the Cancer Centre, for the past week. I find the quality of care and concern for little old me to be just incredible. She wants to know if all is well and no bad side effects. She became concerned about me on Wednesday and spoke to a doctor who instructed me to come in to hospital for an ECG and check up. This was when I was sitting in a cafe with my pal Kenny whom I hadn't seen for some time. He drove me to the hospital and gave up his afternoon for me. Thanks Kenny. My ECG was normal as was the blood test, so I was able to return home and get on with things. But daily phone calls seem destined to continue and I have to be prepared to go see them at anytime. Better keep a bag packed. All for now. Tired. Very. Lunch with NJ calls.