Lainey's Log: A Bowel Cancer Diary

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 ...

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...

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 ...

During, but mainly after our holiday in the summer - which was amazing, I started getting cramps in my tummy, a feeling of being full and constipated. I put it down to overindulging on holiday, eating rubbish and drinking too much. My team prescribed laxatives, which helped to some extent, but even after the initial clearout I still wasn’t right. 3 weeks(ish) later, on the 26th August, after starting to throw up black vomit, the lady on the treatment helpline advised me to go to A&E. We phoned 999, and were advised that ambulances were a 6hr wait, and if someone could drive me down, that would be the best course of action. I called David, who was at work and let him know what was going on. Jack was bundled to my friend’s house and my mum drove me to the hospital.  A&E was not exactly where I had planned to spend Friday night. It seemed like there were very few people there with actual emergencies, a number of patients were trying to score stronger pain killers - she didn’t ...

Picture taken 1st day after Chemo, Dec 2020 I’m not going to lie or beat about the bush on this post, spoiler alert, it was shit. Not a bit rubbish, or exaggerated for effect, and I’m certainly not going to roll it in glitter to make it seem better than it was. It was truly one of the worst experiences of my life. I have never felt more like I have cancer than when I was receiving that poisonous cocktail every three weeks, the one that was designed to save my life. After receiving my diagnosis at the end of September, I was scheduled to have my first round of chemotherapy at the very beginning of December. It may seem like a long time to wait, but I had to have various scans and the colonoscopy before I could have the treatment. Considering the lockdowns and restrictions for Covid, I felt blessed to be in the system at all.  I was scheduled to receive a combination known to all in the biz as Capox, a combination of Capecitabine and Oxypalitine. Given in 3 week cycles. An intravenou...

"Hey Elaine! Tell us about your colonoscopy" encouraged absolutely nobody. But I'm going to tell you about it any way, because I'm good at oversharing like that, plus it's one of the taboos surrounding bowel cancer that needs to be spoken about and demystified. I think the thought of having one of these beauties puts many people off getting checked out - it shouldn't. I mean, if i can get my act together to go and have one,  then anyone can. Honestly.  With a colonoscopy, one must start at the very beginning a couple of days before the procedure. You'll be sent a recipe card for a low residue diet with such delights as tinned pears and white bread for a day,  followed by clear broth and squash (not red) for another day. As a fantastic chaser to these culinary treats, you'll have 2 litres (1 the night before, 1 in the morning) of Industrial Strength Laxative which tastes like a Harpic Margarita. Well meaning advice from the forums will tell ...