Category Archives: Chemotherapy

Just checking up

Posted in Bumpboobs, Chemotherapy, Fertility, Treatment by

That’s that.

Turns out this was a follow up appointment. They just wanted to see ‘where we were’ in our thoughts toward fertility testing, and how far along treatment had progressed. No one scolded anyone for wasting time.

Basically, the fertility clinic is positioned beside the maternity ward, and beside the breast clinic. Therefore walking in for my appointment was slightly emotional. First there are pregnant women everywhere and happy families with gift bags reading ‘baby’ in pink or blue bubble letters. Next there is the breast screening clinic where I had my original biopsy. Finally, the fertility clinic waiting room is beside – can you guess? – beside the very room where I first learnt I had breast cancer.

So Zsolt and I sat for an hour and a half, facing opposite that unfortunate room, until we were called in to see the doctor.

I went through several stages of emotion. Sadness, surprise, resentment (aka jealousy towards these lovely, pregnant mothers) followed by simple exhaustion with the wait time.

Breast cancer care in England is very comprehensive. Not only do they treat the problem, they treat the implications. During our meeting the doctor discussed future testing and how we could ‘get started’ on the road to pregnancy once all my treatments were over. She even mentioned testing Zsolt’s sperm, which surprised me because I had assumed that the emphasis was on my fertility. However – we are a unit, both sides matter.

Comprehensive.

Today was okay. Before the appointment I was nervous to the point of freaking out *why? I don’t  know . . . let’s blame it on the menopause. Now it’s done I feel better.

Plus on the way home while listening to classic fm, they played a rousing bit of music where the fellow kept singing “Figaro, Figaro, Figaro!” That was wonderful. Zsolt and I rocked out.

And there you have it: Fertility mystery appointment solved.

Another fertility consultation

Posted in Bumpboobs, Chemotherapy, Fertility, Treatment by

Today I have an appointment at the fertility clinic. What this appointment is about, well – no one seems to know.

I don’t know. Zsolt doesn’t know. The nurses don’t know. But the appointment exists and since we didn’t cancel it properly all of three months ago when receiving notice of the booking, we’re going in.

I had tried to cancel this meeting. Calling up the breast care nurses we’d had a conversation about why this meeting was scheduled and had concluded it was a mistake. The nurse said she’d cancel it for me and I decided not to worry. That was three months ago.

Last Friday while having just received the dopy drug into my vein, the chemo nurse says, “So, I see you’ll be going to the Princess Ann on Monday.”

“No . . .” My body is sinking.

“Yes,” she replies. “Someone called for your notes yesterday. You have an appointment with the Fertility clinic.”

“What ?” And the world feels so heavy. “We cancelled that meeting.”

“Oh.”

“Do I have to go?” Even my thoughts are getting heavy: have I done something wrong? Will this mistake get me in trouble?

The nurse now wishes aloud that she hadn’t mentioned the appointment because there I am drugged up trying to contemplate another unexpected twist. Thoughts of invitro fertilization and Zolodex are running through my head and I can’t help thinking, “why do they spring these things last minute?” When really, the appointment has been set for three months – regardless of my ignorance to that fact.

Could we still cancel the meeting? It was Friday afternoon, and the meeting was for today – Monday. Should we cancel the meeting? Maybe the doctor will be able to provide new options, or let me know what happens next, or tell how we can check fertility in the future. . . maybe it’s fate that the meeting wasn’t cancelled.

Anyhow, I generally think it’s rude to cancel without sufficient notice. Therefore we are going to this appointment with the doctor who is – as he once mentioned – extremely busy. People wait ages for an appointment, and we’ll be walking in saying something like: hey, how’s it going? Long time no see . . . why are we here?

Oh well. Worst case scenario everyone is confused and we leave within five minutes. Best case – I don’t know! We’ll see.

Killing with Chemo

Posted in Bumpboobs, Chemotherapy, Treatment by

How are things going? They’re going well.

This past chemo was the easiest session thus far. Why? Well, Zsolt and I have a few theories.

treatment seven

Theory one: Could they have reduced my dose? The doctor had mentioned something two weeks ago about a possible reduction in my dosage. I have mixed feelings on this, but better reduced dosage for one week than to get behind another treatment. Maybe this will give my blood the chance it needs to recover – even if it’s only a slight recovery. Anyhow, that is one theory. Next time we see the doctor we’ll ask if they changed something in the chemo plan.

Theory two: AC is wearing off. My God, AC chemotherapy is difficult. Not impossible – I’d like to stress this, it is not impossible to weather, but yes, it is difficult. A lot of rest is required.

This past treatment I was able to sit up on Friday and watch a little Channel 4od. Yesterday I went for a walk that lasted a good twenty minutes. Today we tidied the flat and did some groceries. I still get those waves of exhaustion and need to take breaks – after Saturday’s walk I crashed onto the bed. BUT just being able to do those things is such a drastic change. Could it be that the previous treatment is finally leaving my body?

Theory Three: Have I finally accepted my situation? Well, actually – will I ever accept my situation is a better question, though last Friday was a good switch in my mind. Thursday I’d gone in for my blood and felt that nervous tension, that same resentment for my situation. Then Friday morning Zsolt talked to me about how much he worries. Poor guy,  he started researching my chemo treatments, which led to him reading about stage 3 breast cancer, which got him onto reoccurrence topics and so on. This is why I avoid combining Google and key words searches for ‘breast cancer’. It’s just fucking depressing. Anyhow, he came to me with these worries and for a change it was my turn to comfort him.

“We’re going to be fine. We are fighting this cancer. We are doing everything we can. We will get through this.”

We are fighting. Chemotherapy is fighting. The idea clicked into my head, and that afternoon before leaving for treatment I didn’t punch out my fear of chemo; instead I punched to kill the fucking-fucking-fucking cancer that may still be in my body. It has no right to be here, and going to chemo is part of killing that cancer. And all throughout my treatment (walking into the ward, sitting in the chair, getting the dopy drug, waiting for the drips) I thought: I am killing this cancer. We are killing every last bit of this cancer.

Best treatment yet.

So whatever the reason. Reduced dosage, recovery from AC, acceptance of this method – whatever the reason, it was easier this time. No nausea and less exhaustion. Let’s hope it stays easier.

I can’t promise to always be friends with chemotherapy; it’s a process that is draining and difficult. But for Zsolt and for myself – I will use it as my weapon.

I have to get better. There’s no choice in this matter. I have to get better. 100% must.

So we fight, fight, and keep on fighting. Chemo is my weapon.