I’m now two thirds of the way through my chemotherapy treatment. I’m ready to reflect and right now my fatigue levels are lower, so I’m able to.

I’m eight months after my diagnosis. I can’t remember now what I thought then being treated for cancer was going to be like. However, I’m sure it was’t what I’ve experienced.

I was expecting to feel sick, it is one of the well known side-effects of chemotherapy; so I wasn’t surprised to be prescribed pills to reduce the chemo induced sickness. It was, however, unexpected to get additional pills to reduce the effects of these pills. I’m taking pills to stop the side-effects of pills to stop side-effects. It feels like it’s pills all the way down.

The side-effects are a terrible melange of small things that you don’t normally talk about in polite company. The constipation by the end of ‘chemo week’ is neither welcome nor pleasant. The constant need to go to the toilet to leave space for more water to flush out the chemo drugs does at least keep me moving a bit. However, I recently spent about 10 nights waking up every hour to go to the toilet. That was brutal.

The pills that had the added side-effect of extreme anxiety were awful. For a week I was as taut as a well strung guitar and feeling really sick with worry – who needs chemo pills? I found it hard to get up and do things to help myself. I’ve not yet restarted the meditation which got me through the radiotherapy. 

I also didn’t consider the effects of the treatment on my hearing; I’ve lost a little hearing in my right ear – close to where the surgery was, and the side that was the focus of the radiotherapy blasting. If there’s ambient noise, I find it difficult to hear people on my right hand side. It’s frustrating (for everyone).

The fatigue, except this week, has been a constant companion.

Basically, I’ve been feeling a bit sorry for myself. All of the side effects mean that it’s difficult to concentrate for more than about 20 minutes. It’s therefore hard to start any meaningful project (or even to write this blogpost), a challenge to do anything significant around the house, and I go to bed so early.

I really hadn’t anticipated to experience mind numbing boredom during treatment. The days run into each other and are often indistinguishable; sometimes I only know what day it is because the blister packs of pills tell me.

I had expected to feel anxious and worry about the future (and my potential lack of place in it). What I hadn’t expected was how much mental effort I’d expend to get up and do anything, to get up and be part of the family.

I am honest with my family when they ask me how I am in the morning. But I find it hard to be the person with the negative news, and telling your family (let alone polite society) the state of the symptoms described above also isn’t easy.

I’ve always felt sympathetic to people with cancer saying that they don’t want to be described as a fighter. It’s the same with MS, I really don’t like the tag #MSWarrior on social media, although I know it helps others and am not judging.

And the last eight months have borne this sympathy out. I’m not fighting the cancer. I’m grappling with myself and my mood. I’m forcing myself to wake up every day and plough on despite the symptoms (although honestly, I only have a few truly terrible days). And each chemo week it seems like I’m enduring new side-effects, taking new tests and waiting for results. I’m doing this so that I can convince myself to continue the treatment to give the best chance that the cancer won’t grow back. It’s much more like an endurance test than a cage fight with mutant cells. And it’s really made much easier with the love and support of my family. 

But, as I say above, I’m now all the way through the radiotherapy, and two thirds of the way through the chemo. Two months more of chemo; I’m nearly done. And the signs are as good as they can be. Despite what I say above, I’m still tolerating the treatment, my body is still pretty strong. More importantly the MRI, about a month ago, shows that the tumour isn’t growing back. It’s quite difficult to accept that the best result is negative – no sign of the tumour – but it’s a good result and worth a little constipation.

1 August 2023

Picture description: Pitted Prunes in a white bowl. Picture credit, licenced under a creative commons licence.