|Picture from here|
While lying here wide awake I've been mulling. Never a good idea. Here are some edited highlights of my disgruntlment (and if that isn't a word it should be):
- The National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) deciding not to approve access to TDM1 (Kadcyla) via the National Health Service (NHS) in England and Wales, and the price the drug company is charging for this treatment. TDM1 is the chemo that has worked well for me for nearly a year and a half (luckily for me I managed to get treatment via a drug trial).
- Jenni Bloody Murray's pontification on TDM1. Yes, I am still angry about that. I know I should let it go for my own sanity, but Ms Muray setting herself up as someone who knows the score because she has had primary breast cancer is much like me saying that because I have a cat I'm the world's expert on parenting. No insult intended to people with primary breast cancer - it's vile, scary and altogether horrible but not in the same league as being told the cancer has spread and will definitley kill you (the joy that is secondary breast cancer).
- The mealy mouthed response I got from a charity, Breast Cancer Campaign, in response to my query as to why, given her views, Jenni Murray was still listed as one of their celebrity supporters.
- People in Scotland being denied access to TDM1.
- The Haven, who I found so helpful a while back, issuing an annual newsletter which didn't mention secondary breast cancer a single, solitary time, and the Haven's mealy mouthed response when I pointed this out. This is yet another example of the endless sidelining of people with secondary breast cancer.
I then went on to consider that, had I not had the good fortune to be born in a country with good health care, I'd no doubt be dead and buried by now. Which in turn led on to thinking about the dreadful hardship endured by so many people in the world, like 748 million people not having access to safe drinking water and the state of the world itself with all the horrors of war, pestillence and climate change.
It's enough to want to make me stay in bed for the rest of the day with a bottle of sherry and a family pack of custard tarts. All in all that cat has got a lot to answer for.
I can't even blame my mood on the onset of winter. I like winter. I like snuggly winter clothes, sitting by the log burner and my latest knitting project, an incredibly (and unintenionally) wonky scarf. OK, by February I've usually had enough of cold, driving rain and dark nights but up till then I embrace the gloom. By the way here's some top notch and enjoyable research on seasonal affective disorder from the Daily Mash.
Having moaned for several million paragraphs I should point out that, on a personal level, I'm having quite a jolly time. Maybe, in the spirit of fairness I should list the good stuff too:
- I am now on a different bone strengthening medication. This one seems to have no side effects (unlike the last one which was yucky), so hurrah for that.
- I've had the full compliment of sisters (nos 1, 2 AND 3) in the UK recently. Which was lovely. Sort of.
- Started a brilliant mindfulness course (mock me at your peril).
- Some good friends have recently raised over 1000 pounds for the excellent Breakthrough Breast Cancer. They did this by forgoing anniversary presents and, shudder, running a half-marathon. Many, many thanks to them. My cockles are warmed.
- I've been out and about enjoying the autumnal sunshine.
And finally, here's a picture of me ascending the steep slope. I'd like to tell you I was being brave but actually at this stage I was too out of breath to cry.
Onwards and upwards.