The First Dose

Well, no one can say I'm not special. As they sent in the first bag of chemo, I experienced the usual side effects that they warned me about, but I also started to find it difficult to speak and actually form words (queue the Scottish jokes ...), which was obviously a neurological effect. None of the consultants in the hospital had ever come across this in their entire careers and so they stopped that particular infusion and the consultants went on-line. Apparently, and I quote, "A few doctors across the world have come across this, but it is exceedingly rare." They are bit concerned about it and so I am meeting up with my consultant before the next one so they can work out what to do, as it is important that I keep the treatment. Additionally, my haemoglobin is down at 7.6 and so I am booked in for a blood transfusion on Friday.

On the positive side, at the end of day 1 I can report feeling okay. Here's hoping I have another easy ride when it comes to side effects. Thank you to those of you supporting us in prayer and for all the kind thoughts and messages we have received. We are always very grateful for the number of people we have around us.

The Chemo

Well, my Hickman line has been surgically placed, my hair is shaved, I have organised cover at school and I am ready for chemo ... ish. I start on Tuesday morning. The Hickman line was straight forward. It's only when I think about it that I feel a bit wobbly. It went into a main vein in my neck and was fed down into my chest and into the vena cava, which is one of the body's main veins. It means that the chemo can be fed straight into the body without using a needle; it also reduces the side effects. The side effects are a bit grim and infections can be life-threatening. If they develop I have to go straight into hospital in Leeds. Anyway, I have been spared the full force of the side-effects in previous regimes and I remain hopeful that I might be spared the full force of this.

The family are all well and back at school. It hardly seems that we have been away! Our dog Basil has had a great day. I came home to find an empty chedders packet and an empty Soreen loaf wrapper. He was confined to his bed as a punishment, but not to worry ... Joel gave him his dinner. Great.

Thanks for visiting the blog. I will keep you up to date.

Dodgy ...

Well, France turned out to be very sunny indeed – everyday in fact. We spent most days in the pool and fun was had by all. We managed to have a very good break … as hopefully the pictures show. I have just come back from the Greenbelt Festival, where the MET office misled us by saying there were going to be sunny intervals. It was great to catch up with many good friends. I spent an afternoon listening to jazz, but was left with my 30 year-old key question unanswered – who is everyone in the ensemble following?

I might well have overdone it at the festival because yesterday was a very rough day – very fragile and energy-less. The main incident for me was my fainting episode. I strongly believe in committing to 'a faint' and so this time passed-out in a forwards direction, forehead-first onto the corner of a wall. It was just Joel and I in the house at the time, but fortunately he was safe upstairs. Eventually I managed to get to the lounge and onto a sofa and I lay there for a few hours sleeping. Today I feel better, just in time for school on Thursday!

I met with the oncologist last Friday and the results of the scan aren’t good. Everything has progressed slightly and the new tumours are absolutely established. So … it’s chemo time. I had a Hickman line put in today (it goes in through a main artery in my neck and down into my chest and means no more needles for now) and I start the new regime sometime in the next week. It is a tough one and I expect my school life to be reduced by 50%. Anyway, I remain hopeful that I will weather it well as I have done all the previous regimes. However, I am also very anxious that the treatment has effect. Mary and I are very aware that I have worked my way through many treatments and that there are very few left after this, if any. We have a real sense of being in classic cancer territory – strong chemo bringing hair loss, risk of serious weight loss, lethargy etc. It feels like a new land. Anyway, we’re heading into it. I am going to chart the number of times people tell me that I actually suit being bald or that I have a really nice shape of head (all well-meant, I know) The children in my school will be much more direct – “Eh, Mr ‘alliday. Wot ye gone and done with yer ‘air?”

Thanks again for visiting the blog.