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The one I didn't want to write

Well, I’m not sure how to write this one.You all know I’ve had a pretty rough start to the year. In the past month or more however, the pain has really ramped up. This, along with the dodgy arse explosions and absolutely no energy, meant my scan was brought forward and treatment was delayed. A week later a very frank discussion was had with my lead oncologist. We all know that my cancer is incurable, however we’ve never put a time frame on that. Very much a ‘treat it till we can’t’ scenario. This time was different. Although the scans show the disease as stable, my blood work and progression of symptoms show a different story. My cancer is weird, and doesn’t behave like ‘normal’ cancer. Bowel cancer likes to move to other organs, mine hasn’t done that. This bastard tumour has been unpredictable from the get go. So with trepidation I asked 12 months? I was answered with a sad shake of the head and the answer “probably less”. Maybe 6-12 months. To be honest we were expecting this kind of...
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Shit storm in a teacup

OK, I’m a bad blogger, I’ve not written anything in aaaaages. I’m not sure I have anything to write about now to be perfectly honest, but I felt like I needed to write something - d’ya know what I mean? No? I’ll carry on anyway. By and large, the combined drug combo of Bevuzzzzzzimab-or-something-or-other and Lonsurf has been keeping my tumour in check. Not without incidents though. My constitution being all delicate (like a bomb, not a flower) has meant that every so often I’ve landed up in hospital. Most recently, I started 2025 2nd Jan, with a 17hr stint in A&E needing blood because my HB levels were in my boots and I had a cold. Having a cold is normally a run of the mill event for people with an immune system, however as my immune system is as elusive as the ruddy Scarlet Pimpernel it floored me. A hot toddy wasn’t quite going to cut it. The hospital also has to assume that you, as a cancer patient, have Nutropenic Sepsis, until tests show that you don’t. I was in hospital aga...
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2024 Update: It's been emotional

Photographic evidence of 2 bored people in a waiting room Hello! Happy New Year! Is it still ok to say that in May? I’m saying it anyway, why not eh? My last post was in September 2023, and well, quite a lot has happened. Quite a lot I wasn’t ready to write about, but I was in hospital and bored when I started writing this, so here goes. Please note this is a long post and is NOT MANDATORY reading, we’ll still be friends if you don’t feel like reading on.  A little aside which might amuse you is that back in November ‘23 we discovered that I’m sensitive to a new brand of IV steroid that the buyers in the NHS have bought. “How do we know that?”  I hear absolutely nobody asking, but as you know, I like to over share. Before the immunotherapy drug is administered, I have a lil’ pre-med cocktail of Steroids, Antihistamine, and Paracetamol to prevent a reaction. The steroid used thus for the past 18 months of treatment has been a powder which the nurses mix themselves with saline a...
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It’s not just me

I’ve had a little time to reflect on this next post, I’ve just had another stint at the Royal Glamorgan all inclusive weight loss spa, I had to have an operation to drain another collection of goo from my side caused by the drain from the previous collection of goo. I know, attention seeking again! During this time, David (my rather wonderful husband) has been running around like blue arsed headless chicken after me and Jack (my equally rather wonderful son).  Cancer isn’t just affecting me, it’s got its grip on everyone around me too. My nearest and dearest are caring for me in so many ways. Making sure I have clean clothes, that the shopping is done, that my meals are cooked and I’m fed, that I’m supported emotionally, that the house is clean and I’m taxied backwards and forwards to appointments. Friends are checking in on me and helping run Jack back and forth to various clubs when David or my Mum are at work. My Sister is keeping me grounded and reacts as only a sister can when...
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Hospital Hokey Cokey

You know, in out, in out, shake it all about. This is a very long overdue blog post, a lot has happened in the past 5 months and I’m going to try and let you know what happened without boring the tits off you.    Our story starts in April 2023. As I wrote about in my last post, It had been decided that I was deemed well enough recovered from my surgeries the summer before to restart treatment, although they didn’t want me to back on the Immunotherapy drug, as they weren’t entirely sure that that wasn’t the reason for all my complications following surgery for the obstruction. So it was decided to give a different Chemo a go. One called FOLFIRI I was worried it would floor me, and as it turns out - IT DID!! I was abso-fucking-lutely ruined. vomiting on a comedic level Rik Mayall and Ade Edmondson would have been proud of and fatigued. I was tired, so very tired, and breathless after any kind of exertion. A call to the Velindre Treatment Helpline meant that my out of hours ...
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Spring Picc-ings

Spring has sprung, albeit reluctantly and I’ve just celebrated my 43rd birthday, which I’m very pleased about. We went out for Chinese to mark the occasion, to an actual restaurant, and I had the absolute audacity to order 2 dinners for myself, which I ate pretty much all of, and I’m not even sorry. So there.  I had scans about four weeks ago, which showed that my squatter has started to grow (Rude). It has only grown ever so slightly, but considering I’ve had no treatment since mid August, it’s not bad and was expected, although secretly I’d hoped it had just evaporated and I’d finished cancer. No such luck, but that’s ok.  Conversations were had about next steps and a Plan A and a Plan B were formulated. Plan A was checking to see if I was suitable for a clinical trial, and if I wasn’t, then Plan B would be a Chemo - Irinotecan, 5 Fluorouracil (5-FU) and Folnic Acid - FOLFIRI for short. And that was ok. We like a plan. I had blood tests and met with the clinic trial team who...
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Stoma Life - 5 months in

It’s been a learning curve, and that’s possibly slightly understating it. There have been tears, tantrums, eureka moments and lots of poo.  To begin with I couldn’t bring myself to look at the stoma. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never had a body to rival Elle Mcpherson, I’m overweight, and have a mum pouch, but I’m generally happy in my own skin, to quote Mika, I’ve got lumps and bumps in all the right places (I’ve probably quoted that wrong, but you know what I m ean). However the stoma freaked me out - my insides were on the outside and I had a bag stuck to my tummy. What. The. Actual. Fuck. So the first week or so, I had very little to do with the stoma, nurses and care assistants emptied it and changed it and I ignored it as much as I could. I hadn’t looked at it, I’d glimpsed it, but looked away quickly. I’m squeamish when it comes to things like this on my own body - fine looking at things like this on other people, but on myself - nope. Someone suggested to me I should name the ...
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