Chris tells me I should visualise myself as a chrysalis. I am undergoing a metamorphosis. The skin rash, the nausea, are all part of the process. When the treatment is finished I will materialise transformed. I think it is a lovely analogy and I hope he is right. I feel more like the human host in 'Alien'. What will emerge?
Had my bloods taken yesterday at the hospital. Dr. B says they were fine so the next lot of Chemo can go ahead as planned tomorrow. He tells me they have found six liver tumours not five, but that the sixth should be operable. He is prescribing some vitamin B6 for the soreness in my fingertips.
I ask Chris if he thinks the treatments will vary during the holiday period. Chris thinks they will probably add Christmas pudding to the infusion. That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.
When I arrive for Chemo today Minna tells me they have the CEA result, which is the Cancer marker. It has gone down from 911 to 340, which shows something is working. My relief is palpable.
They use a larger needle in my vein to reduce the pain of the Oxaliplatin. Feels like a bayonet to me. Most of the day I am OK but just when I am due to come home I feel suddenly really sick and Anita who is waiting for me calls the nurse. I vomit a few times and feel wretched. They don’t understand why I have been affected like this. The first anti-emetic doesn’t work too well and I have to wait another half an hour. Then they realise that one of the nurses forgot to give me the anti sickness medication with the Oxali, so they try me with tablets. I bring them straight back up. At the same time my arm pumps blood profusely all over the floor where they took out the needle. The nurses are running around with bowls and swabs like the Keystone cops. The floor looks like the aftermath of an Inspector Morse Murder.
An hour later they finally let me out after yet another injection this time in my left arm. Anita has been waiting patiently to drive me home. She is a Saint. She brings several sick bowls and wipes from the hospital and tells me not to worry if I throw up in the car. Luckily I don’t. Not a great day. A couple of hours later I manage one slice of dry toast and go to bed.
I have a bad night, feeling sick on and off. This morning I can’t even put my socks on my fingers are so prickly and painful. I burst into tears and feel sorry for myself. I have some breakfast of toast and pills but the change of temperature from bed triggers such severe neuropathy that I shelve my plans to go for a walk and stay in bed instead. It is not like me to give in like this. I have crossed a border this year from health into sickness. I am not enjoying the trip.
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