So I’ve just had my first scan on my second IV chemo treatment, (I progressed on my first one after a few incomplete cycles).
Psychologically I’ve always rejected Chemo, so it seems the git decided to reject me too. I’ve read enough to know that chemo often fails especially in aggressive or advanced cancer, but I wasn’t expecting it. So, Take Two – I managed a couple of complete cycles before my bloods started to take a real battering, but my tumour marker ( a biomarker in blood that indicates the presence and progression of cancer) which had been almost 600 in August, had dropped to 237 by the end of October and looked promising. And then I ended up in hospital with sepsis, a week in isolation and wow a commode, nice. After a lucky escape and once my bloods finally recovered I decided to have one more cycle and risk spending Christmas in the nick, but my bloods couldn’t take it.

Thankfully I managed to stay out over Christmas, but I was floored, and had started to experience weakness in my hands and legs with continuous pins and needles, my get up and go, had got up and gone. All the plans I’d made to go gallivanting and visit friends, no energy, and no interest. As I sat at home berating myself for wasting time, Billy Connolly came  on the radio talking about how he could see his life, his energy slipping away. Thanks a feckin lot Billy , considering I can barely make it up the stairs thats just what I needed to hear. In floods, reminds me of  a couple of years back when I was walking in the fields at my friends, watching my lovely long shadow on the grass when suddenly it disappeared, and I had to catch my breath and started howling like an idiot.

 My scan was brought forward to try and get to the bottom of all these new symptoms. So despite the fact my marker had continued to drop to 59, I was feeling rubbish. The CT revealed that everything had progressed slightly, that my heart could be in trouble and I now needed an ECHO and a MRI to see if my spine has also deteriorated. I’m currently waiting for further tests to see if I need to have some radio and to change treatment. I can’t imagine I have too many options left, and I don’t know if they are all tough on the heart? I’m heading into my seventh year of treatment, so my Onc is not surprised it’s starting to take its toll, but I am , I’m the Cat with nine lives, I’m supposed to be fucking invincible. But sadly I think the body’s in trouble, I love you chemo, honest I really do.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *