The price wasn't explained....

So I haven't read my last post to know for sure where I was in this ghastly saga.

Am guessing somewhere before the delightful peg was fitted.  A peg is a feeding tube they stick right in the middle of your abdomen in preparation for when you can no longer swallow, 'cos we all need something to look forward to ! You're sedated when it's fitted, which means you're actually awake at the time, but you won't remember it. Is it just me, or does that sounds rather dodgy? anyway, as i can't remember it, can't tell you much, I just woke up with a tube sticking out of me and taped next to my belly button so it didn't flap about.

There was poor communication between surgeon, nutritionist, and nurses as it was only the nurses there to care for me and it didn't matter how many times I explained I could still eat and drink, they wouldn't let me - which was tons of fun when I hadn't been able to eat and drink since the night before the operation, and have a very real caffeine addiction. They did give me morphine when the stomach cramps became bad, and at 8am the next day I got a new nurse who actually listened to me and made some phone calls! By 9:30 am I was handed tea and toast! Not that I could eat toast, they took my teeth already, the ones I chew with, but I can suck the butter off the toast until it gets soft and then mush it up ;)

They let me out at 4pm. By 6:30pm I was readmitted via ambulance. Well, the ambulance came at 6:30, and then I was in A&E until 3:30 am, when they readmitted me onto the same ward I had earlier been discharged from. Lovely seeing that same nighttime nurse again.

That was all down to some infection they think I had, and 'pressure' build up after the peg was fitted. I have no idea really, I was just glad the cramping pain stopped and they let me out again.

Having a peg fitted does cause other pain too. A hole is poked right through your abdomen muscles, and then forced to heal around a tube. It bloody hurts and you use your abdomen way more than you realise!! And you have to be careful with waistbands too, as they thoughtfully put my peg on my waistline (maybe imaging I was hip enough to wearing low waist garments, you see what I did there??)

So I got 2 weeks to recover from that before next stage.

Radio and chemotherapy. The whole thing is medieval torture. I mean seriously, radiation is not good for you, and injecting platinum into your body, how much of a good idea is that? Apparently these are the things that may keep me alive. All my instincts snort at that. But hey, not like I have an abundance of choices here.....

I'm now 1/3rd in. Two weeks down. My advise: don't get cancer.

Monday to Friday I get Radiotherapy, on Thursdays I get Chemo.

Monday is also scan day, which is needed as I know my tumor has grown since last week.

Tuesday is also bloods day, but I'm super lucky and seem to end up with bloods taken waaaaaaay more than once a week haha.

Wednesday after treatment they weigh me (ohh am going to be in trouble this week as already 3kg down from last week) and I see the Doctor and nutritionist. The Dr is lovely, the nutritionist is a sarky bitch who seems to think she knows more than anyone else, but life is short, so best to shut up and get outta there asap.

Thursdays is Chemo day. Oh yay. I get 3 hours Chemo 1st, then Radiotherapy, mix it up a little.

Friday is do your best not to vomit day, or you get to spend the weekend in hospital! 
               Week 1: Mission failed. Weekend spent in hospital.
               Week 2: Mission accomplished thanks to NO chemo in week 2, achieved through having blood pressure drop to 87/57, is that cheating?

What I have found is, how sick you get can be down to the type of cancer you have. The type of cancer you have dictates how they treat you. Many people get Chemo & Radiotherapy done one after another, not at the same time, which helps reduce the nausea. Plus I had nausea before I even started Chemo  - which my nutritionist says is not possible, as my stomach is not being zapped. Well I call her a dumb bitch, because I was fucking sick before I started chemo. I didn't call her a dumb bitch to her face, I'm not quite that rude. Getting there though.

My nutritionist is not completely wrong, as I have sat with people in their 4th week and they are perky as fuck, stuffing bananas & crisps in their mouth. With chatter I find that they are not being zapped in the head, neck, or stomach.

And finally there are the superhumans. Miguel. He's a very sweet Madeiran gentleman one week ahead of me, and he as cancer of the saliva glands, which grew into tumors in his neck very like mine.... and yet, he's just sailing through this crap! He's told me himself that the Dr and nurses are very impressed with him. I would like to hate him, but he's too likable.

The mask freaks me out on levels I cannot explain. I close my eyes and repeat 'safe place' over and over in my head, reminding myself that this mask is trying to save my life. Doesn't help. They have offered to sedate me, but... well now that I feel so sick all the time, I have new worry that I will vomit whilst the mask is on me. The nurses say they are watching all the time and would be back in the room within seconds, but since when was fear a rational thing?

And now I can barely eat. I started using my peg on Saturday, because I just can't bear to eat anything. My tastes buds are so burned that everything tastes of salt. The nutritionist says I must carry on with water if I can to ensue my throat keeps working and so I will be able to swallow when this is all over. But drinking salt water is not easy when you feel sick. I will keep at it, as I am determined that I will eat and drink again when this is done. But it is so fucking hard.

I'm also not at home. Did I mention that? Our hospital can't treat me, so I'm living in Southampton, being treated here. It's quite a nice city, but as I have said to the BH, I will never set foot in this city again.

So this time in four weeks I will be home, and this will be done. I am hanging on by my fingernails. Last week in the midst  of the worst of it, I decided this wasn't worth it.  That is how bad this really is. The Drs have made things more bearable, and I'm am going to do my best to complete the next four weeks. But I am not kidding when I say I will never set foot in Southampton again. If this doesn't work this time, then I am dead. I cannot do this again.

I will have given 7 months to trying to get past this cancer, and there isn't much quality of life here. I can't walk up a flight of stairs anymore, I can't eat, opening a bottle of water often requires help, and I forget words a lot, and get confused a lot.

I thought for a while it was the painkillers. But I've been taking less, on purpose. Yeah I still swallow a shed load of other tablets, so maybe.... but it's scary knowing that you're missing stuff, that things don't always make sense.

And it ain't over yet. Lots more fun to come over next 7 weeks, as I continue to cook (4 weeks treatment, but it will then take another 3 weeks for all these weeks of radiotherapy to stop building).

Oh and another thing - I detest cancer. Like everyone I am sure. But what I mean is, people keep recommending cancer chat forums, or saying how they did a cancer run, or coffee morning. Sorry but get out of my fucking head, I can't surround myself with this shit. I am being forced to live cancer this year, but please let me run for the hills once I have the strength. Let me hide in a deep hole. Let me forget these months. Why the fuck can't cancer be one of the words I can't remember??

I'm not enjoying life right now.