So cycle two went so well that I was completely lulled into a false sense of security that this was going to be easy. Ha! I underestimated just how much of an effect chemotherapy has on a healthy body. I decided that I would not take my steroids (dexamethazone) because I didn't like the way they made me feel, which is quite true. They made me feel like someone had spiked my drink with some sort of stimulant. My thoughts raced, I became agitated and, as I realised during a heated conversation, it made me lose control of my emotions and very, very quick to anger about absolutely nothing out of completely nowhere. All of these things made me decide they were not for me and everyone agreed that perhaps if I disliked the effect so much I should just stop taking them.
Well, it appears I was somewhat hasty. The main funcion of the steroids is to control nausea and to give the patient a sense of well being. Without steroids my nausea was off the scale once again and I spent the majority of days 1 and 2 vomiting out of the blue. Once again, the nausea (which is constant) is actually completely and utterly unrelated to the actual vomiting, which comes out of nowhere with little to no warning - apart from the constant nausea. It is confusing, unpleasant and has made me realise that unpleasant as I find steroids, I preferrred the effect to the increased nausea and vomiting so lesson learned.
One of the other drugs I need to take is GCSF, which restores my white blood cell count (which is somewhat depleted by the chemotherapy) and neutrophils (both of which fight infection I am lead to believe). It unfortunately causes growing pain like pains in my shins, thighs and hips (which are the bones where marrow is manufactured within the body) and also, to my horror, gives me a throbbing pain in the base of my spine. All of this is manageable through simple paracetemol, though as I was warned by a fellow cancer survivor, every single thing that happens makes you think "oh, is that the cancer". Between cancer and chemotherapy, I feel I no longer know my body as well as I used to and having had ongoing issues with RSI (Repetative Strain Injury) / (OOS) Occupational Overuse Syndrome, the management of which requires intricate knowledge of your body and mind's workings, I feel somewhat ill at eas suddenly having my body throwing something new at me almost daily.
The most antisocial aspect of all of the various symptoms is that I appear to have developed ferocious flatulence. When I say ferocious, I mean ferocious. I seem to be ejecting several litres of gas from my body every 5 minutes on a 24 hour continuous basis. It wakes me from sleep. This has been going on a week, though there may be a solution so watch this space.
Otherwise, halfway through week 2 of cycle 3 I am once again feeling pretty much human again. My energy levels are pretty good and I am functioning fairly normally. I have seen both a psychologist and a consellor, which if you are in a situation similar to mine I cannot recommend more. They have both given me plenty of tools and tips for how to keep my mind healthy, though it seems that (having worked through stress management and OOS / RSI, which are intricately interwtined) I am managing rather well in that regard also. I put it down to luck and happenstance, though the psychologist was very quick to ensure I attribute it to myself, my choices and my well being all of which is mostly up to my own doing.
So, onwards and upwards. Things are prettty good at present. Moments of sadness are fewer and further between, though when they come I welcome and acknowledge them as sadness is part of the healing process and must be embraced and marked for what it is - a perfectly normal reaction to a terminal cancer diagnosis. Though initially I was fully accepting of my fate and what has befallen me, I am now genuinely hopeful for the future that there are many indicators that I am a category of patient that should react well to treatment and that there is hope for newer therapies around the corner. It is not blind hope but considered hope, though it is hope nonetheless and I welcome its warmth as do my family.
I wrote a post two weeks ago I never published called "I Don't Want to Die". It was written at a point when I felt very emotional and sad. I decided not to post it in the end, not because of its sentiment, which is as true now as it was then (I am sure not just for me but anyone who reads this and asks themselves the question) as it was when I wrote the words: I don't want to die. Who does?
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