To the barricades

Picture from here

I daresay I shouldn't just nick photos from here, there and everywhere on the internet and stick them on this blog, but what do I care, I'm poorly, leave me alone.

Well surprisingly my appointment at the Christie came through a bit roger rapid, after last week's referral from my local hospital, and so yesterday the other-half and I made the trek up to Manchester to see if there were any clinical trials available.

Disconcertingly the doctor we saw was the living spit of Eddie Redmayne.  Somehow I resisted singing him a medley from Les Mis.  I hope you admire my restraint.  Anyway it seems, according to Dr Eddie, that there is a trial which could be just the ticket.  It's a bit similar to the TDM1 (Kadcyla) trial I was on a while back, in that once again a chemo drug is combined with herceptin to try to target the drug to the shitty cells rather than damage normal cells too.  In this case the trial drug is SYD985.  From them as is interested some more info is available here.  

I will have to have several tests to ensure that I meet the drug company's criteria for going on the trial.  In addition to this, tumour samples from my surgery have to be sent to America and I will also have to have a biopsy on the cancer in my lungs.  The new biopsy presents two problems.  Firstly, a biopsy sounds like No Fun At All (but obviously I'd bite the bullet).  Secondly, there needs to be some cancer that is both large enough and near enough to the surface to make a biopsy feasible.  Dr Eddie and a radiologist will be scrutinising my last CT scan to see if a biopsy is a go-er.  If not I won't be able to go on the trial.  I should hear from Ed on this one by the end of next week.  So fingers crossed.

If I am biopsy-able then that, plus the other tests and sending info to America mean that I won't actually get to start the trial for about six weeks.  This worries me a bit as I feel like my cough and breathlessness are worsening by the minute.  Hopefully, I'm just being a bit of a drama queen on this one. 

So that's where we are at the moment.  In limbo land really.  But things are moving along I suppose.  To keep my spirits up I'm stomping about the house singing this.  Feel free to join in. 

Cheers and jeers

Well what an up and down couple of weeks it's been.

The biggest jeer should be reserved for Alistair Burt, a Conservative Health Minister, who scuppered the passing of a law which would have seen off-patent drugs (for conditions including cancer) made available to the National Health Service (NHS) at low prices.  Not only did Mr Burt filibuster the proposed legislation he also accused his opponents of "shroud waving".  Classy.  You can read more about it by clicking here or just take my word for it that the man is a total and utter shit.

The other crappy thing that happened was of a more personal nature.  I discovered a lump on my chest.  I only had a week or so to wait for the results of my recent CT scan so I knew I'd get answers fairly quickly but it certainly made the days approaching my oncology appointment even more stressful than usual.  Given the appearance of this lump I was convinced that my current chemo, Eribulin, wasn't working.  So imagine my surprise and delight when I was told that the cancer is currently stable.  The oncologist also had a good poke around my chest and said that she thought the lump was bone.  She's getting the radiologist to double check my scan but is fairly confident that the lump is nothing to worry about.  So the plan is now for me to continue on Eribulin and have another CT scan in January.  What a relief. 

Honestly, it was like the sun breaking through the cloud

There was more good news.  You may remember that a while back I was on a drug trial for a chemo called TDM1 (trade name Kadcyla).  This drug worked really well for me for 18 months with very limited side effects.  There has been a lot of hoo-ha about kadcyla due to its cost and there was a very real threat that it would be removed from the Cancer Drugs Fund (CDF) meaning that it wouldn't be available to NHS patients.  However, a decision has been made to keep kadcyla on the CDF. Hallelujah.

Also on the plus side I have been diverted by having all three sisters in the UK and plaguing spending time with me. 

And I've been a right old culture vulture.  On the day before seeing my oncologist I took my mind off things by leaving the sticks and heading to London to see the British Museum's exhibition on the Celts.  Then, just a few days later, I went to Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery to check out the pre-Raphaelites and the Staffordshire Hoard.  While I was in Birmingham I also took the opportunity to visit the new shopping centre but, you will be relieved to hear, I didn't let this sully my pure and academic soul.  Please ignore any malicious rumours that I had to be dragged away sobbing from the cashmere jumpers in John Lewis.

Talking of shopping, it's not long until Christmas you know.  Don't hate me.  I'm trying to help.  You could order some beautiful cards from Ebay.   All proceeds will go to Second Hope (the new and only UK charity specifically for people with metastatic breast cancer).  Go on, you know you want to.


 

A shit sandwich and seeing the sights

First of all let's deal with the shit sandwich, and thanks to Sarah for that expression, I'd never heard it before and am now using it at every opportunity.

My latest scan results show that my current chemo, the lovely TDM1, has stopped working for me.  I had a good run on it, nearly 18 months but now the cancer has outwitted it and is on the move again.  The crap in my lungs has grown and it also seems to have spread into my liver.  I saw the oncologist last week who gave me this news.  He wants to go over my scan again with his doctor chums (why he couldn't do this before my appointment last week I don't know but hey ho).  I go back to see him this week for his decision on what to do next but the most likely option seems to be a change in chemo.  So grim news, but there will be other treatments to try and, at the moment, I feel OK so for now just sticking my head in the sand and fingers in my ears while singing la la la.

More news of the shite variety this time regarding treamtments for advanced cancer.  If you've read my rants for any time you'll know all about certain cancer treatments not being made available to National Health Service (NHS) patients purely due to cost. However, people in England have been able to access these treatments if their NHS oncologists applied for funding through the Cancer Drug Fund (CDF).  Now the NHS have decided to look at excluding 42 cancer drugs from even the CDF due to cost.  Of course several treatments for advanced breast cancer are on the list.  Read more about it here.  This is dreadful news.  It makes me depressed, scared and very, very angry.  It feels like the NHS are saying 'oh just fuck off and die' to people with advanced cancer.  I shan't say anymore here other than if you feel like signing a petition about it then there's one on the go here.  Just like most people I have my doubts about the effectiveness of petitions but it's worth a try so if you've got a spare five minutes please do sign.

OK, on to happier stuff.  We had a refund from the holiday company after our stay in the dirtiest holiday cottage in the world.  This refund coincided with a 30% off everything sale at Laura Ashley.  What can I tell you?  I was weak.

Also I've been gadding about again.  

We've been to see friends in Monmouth and visited the spectacular Chepstow castle (the town of Chepstow itself is a bit run down but if you close your eyes and head for the castle it's great). 

We went to London to see the poppies at the Tower of London (one for every British soldier killed in WW1), just as spectacular and moving as everyone says

 

And we spent a weekend in Somerset in the gorgeous town of Wells.  Everyone should rush there at once, it's beautiful, look:

To add to all the delightfulness, the town was cat central.  The stunning cathedral has it's own resident cat Louis who we met but failed to photograph.  Never mind, I nicked a lovely picture of him from off the internet:

Picture from here

 The Bishop's Palace also has a resident cat, Maisie, and here she is showing me around:

Win big prizes by admiring my lovely new coat!

And to cap it all the B & B we stayed in, which was utterly lovely, despite it's unpromising name of Beryl had two cats, twenty-two year old Clementine and the much younger Willow, pictured below, who was very cuddly indeed:

So to sum up, despite crap news on the health front, I'm still having a great time.  I shall end with a picture of some brilliant artwork made and sent to me by a friend who also has advanced cancer but still thought of me when she heard about my latest scan.  Aren't people lovely, not to mention talented!

I'm a lucky ducky

Doom, gloom and killer cattle

Picture from here

I warn you now, I am in a bad mood.  I was awoken at 3.45am by the claws of Cyril (the three-legged monster cat) who decided he'd quite like his breakfast served early this morning.  I have not been able to get back to sleep since, which is more than I can say for the bloody cat, who is now snoring at the foot of the bed with a full tummy.  Yes, I know I have created a rod for my own back.

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.

And now I've got a new message of doom.  Although people with cancer in England and Wales have been denied TDMI (and other treatments) through the NHS, we have been able to access these treaments through the Cancer Drug Fund (CDF).  Or at least we can at the moment.  The NHS has decided to open a consultation on changes to the CDF which means it will take the cost of treatment into account in the future (something it hasn't done before).  Call my cynical but aren't consultations by government bodies usually just an exercise in asking people what they think and then going ahead and doing what they planned anyway?  If my worst fears are realised many life prolonging drugs will no longer be available to those unable to pay for them privately.  The consultation ends at the end of this month and I urge you to have a look and complete the survey if you can bear to.

So there you have it.  The cat woke me early and I've been lying here fuming and decided to share it all with you, you lucky, lucky bunnies.

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.

The being out and about included walking up a sodding big hill.  The intention was to walk around the bottom of the hill rather than climb it, but the lower footpath was blocked by scary hairy cows (see picture at start of this post) so I took the high road.  Once I reached the top (and stopped sobbing) the views were fantastic.

A

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.

An opportunity for Scotland

My latest blog post for Vita (the online magazine for Breast Cancer Care) is available here.  Be there or be square.

Win-win

 

It's August again, which means ... Shrewsbury Flower Show.  I went along of course and got more photos of the children's veggie art entries to inflict on you.

August was also CT result time (which comes along every three months, although it feels like every three days to me).

I had double cause for celebration.  First of all there was no change to the cancer.  So I remain stable.  Hurrah for my chemo, TDM1 or Kadcyla (which I receive as part of a drug trial), and boo for it not being generally available in England and Wales (the jury is currently out in Scotland). 

The second cause for celebration was that I seem to have a new oncologist.  I wasn't keen on my old (and now semi-retired) onc, Dr Oily, as I found him patronising and, to be honest, I haven't forgiven him for his attitude to his department's cock-up (in my view) in my care last year.  Anyway, the new bod introduced himself, didn't speak to me as if I was seven years old and was pretty upbeat.  Top marks so far.

Nasty NICE

Last Friday the National Institute for Health Care and Excellence (NICE) confirmed their decision not to approve National Health Service use of TDM1 (trade name Kadcyla), the chemo I've been having for over a year courtesy of a drug trial.  The decision is purely down to cost.  It pissed me, and a lot of other people, off.  I didn't bother whinging about it here because you've heard it all before.

Today NICE continued in the same vein (pun intended) and turned down a drug for advanced prostate cancer.  That thudding you can hear is the sound of people throughout the country banging their heads against walls.

A writer at The Telegraph sums it better than I ever could, so I'll stop going on about it here but if you do want to read more and get an idea of how disappointed and angry many people are then please read this.(By the way, if you do read it, maybe stay clear of the comments section as there are some right-wing nut jobs on the lose.  Apart from my mate Tim that is, who valiantly took them on!)

I've been having a whale of a time lately with friends and family visiting, meals galore and the annual trip to the Shrewsbury Flower Show.  It's just that all the craptasticness from NICE and my impending CT results (next Wednesday)have left me feeling a bit like this Flower Show exhibit:

Ah well, tomorrow is another day.

... and breathe

Picture from here

Did you think I'd got all the anger out of my system with my last blog post  Well more fool you.

For those who haven't been keeping up (if not why not) in my last post I was dismayed, angry and generally pissed off about the National Institute for Health Care and Excellence's(NICE)decision not to approve use of TDM1 by the UK's National Health Service (NHS).  TDM1 (trade name Kadcyla)is the chemo I've been lucky enough to have been receiving, at the drug company's expense, for 10 months as part of a clinical trial.

I realise that not everyone who reads this blog has cancer or lives in the UK, so rather than labour the point I will give you the bare bones here but will provide more ranting detail in my next blog post for Vita online.  Rest assured I'll be tedious enough to post a link here once it's published (or indeed written).

NICE say that TDM1 is, at 90,000 pounds per person, too expensive to approve for NHS use.  The drug manufacturers, Roche, say they have to recoup their research and development costs.  

I believe that there are debates to be had about NICE's criteria, the price set by Roche and what the NHS should and should not be funding.  But the bottom line is that there are people out there who will  die sooner than need be because they cannot access this drug on the NHS.  Appalling.

I am not sure how useful the following are but here are some actions those interested in all this could take:

• A petition asking Roche to lower the price - click here
• NICE's TDM1 appraisal consultation.  Long, complicated but open for comments until 19th May - click here  
• Breast Cancer Care (UK charity) will be responding to NICE's appraisal and, as part of their response, will tell NICE just how many people have contacted them with their concerns.  Breast Cancer Care can be contacted at
  campaigns@breastcancercare.org.uk
• Write to your Member of Parliament - click here for website with contact details

I hope you're admiring my restraint so far.  I've hardly even sworn.  Ah, but something else, happened which sent my blood pressure through the ceiling and my language into the fucking gutter.  An article by Jenni Murray was printed in the (shudder) Daily Mail.  For non-UK readers the Daily Mail has a truly terrible reputation for printing all sorts of nasty stuff (click here for an old but accurate musical portrayal of what they are all about).  

The article expressed the opinion that NICE were right to turn down TDM1.  Fair enough, everyone's entitled to their opinion (especially me) but, dear God, the things the author of the piece said!  Read it, if you dare, by clicking here.

I have rarely been as angry as when I read this.  I haven't done a massive amount of crying since this whole cancer malarkey started (preferring the crazed rabbit in headlights response)but this reduced me to tears of fury. 

To refute everything I'd like to in Jenni Murray's vile, inaccurate and sanctimonious piece would take me several more paragraphs and try your patience to breaking point.  Let me just say three things:

• I have had ten fantastic months on TDM1 and am certainly not the 'ravaged' pathetic creature portrayed by Ms Murray, spending my extra months waiting to die.
• Neither I, nor anyone I know with secondary breast cancer, is under any illusion that the disease will spare us.  Treatment is to extend life not a 'false hope' that it will be a cure.
• If any life-extending treatment for people with a terminal illness is a 'false hope' then presumably the author advocates withdrawal of all treatment (beyond pain relief) on diagnosis.  Nice.

Finally a more general point, don't forget, when working out how much we feckless cancer sufferers are costing the state, that many of us won't live to collect our state pensions.  The pension is, I believe, 113 pounds a week.  Let's say I'd had a normal life expectancy and collected my pension for 15 years, that's 88,140 pounds.  Shall we call it quits?

OK, I've stopped.  For now anyway.  Hopefully the cat or the other-half will have done something disgraceful by the time I next post so I'll be able to tell you something at least slightly diverting.  However, tomorrow I'll be seeing the surgeon who operated on my broken wrist.  Unless said surgeon, known to the other-half and I as Lee Van Cleef, tells me my wrist has healed incredibly well and the plaster can come off for good you may well get more moaning instead.

Shitheads

Since June last year I've been taking part in a drug trial for a chemo/targeted therapy called TDM1 (trade name Kadcyla).  This time last year I couldn't walk up a flight of stairs without panting for breath due to the spread of breast cancer into my lungs.  I knew it was getting worse.  I was unwell and frightened, especially as I had previously been treated with two other types of chemo without a great deal of success.  I know this disease is going to kill me but it seemed the end was hurtling towards me at speed. 

However, since starting TDM1 last year, I have had three CT scans.  These scans have shown either shrinkage of the lung mets or stability.  My breathing has improved significantly and I'm able to get out and about, enjoy life and not quake in fear at the sight of a staircase.  

In the United States TDM1 is approved by the Food and Drug Administration and has been available to people there since February 2013.  While TDM1 doesn't work for everyone, I've read, on US online forums, of numbers of people who have had several months of improved health due to TDM1.

Here in the UK TDM1 has been undergoing consideration by the National Institute for Health Care and Excellence (NICE).  NICE  determines which treatments will be provided and funded by the National Health Service.

Today NICE have announced their decision NOT to approve TDM1.  It's not cost effective you see.  I have to say this isn't a massive surprise.  NICE have a bit of a track record for this sort of thing, click here for how they turned down another treatment for secondary breast cancer, Perjeta. 

Am I angry?  You betcha.  I don't think I can express how angry I am.  Certainly not without swearing.

The 'problem' with any treatment for secondary breast cancer is that, at best, it's going to extend life NOT be a cure.  I sometimes think it would be easier for NICE to just issue a blanket statement to people like me with incurable cancer along the lines of 'you're screwed so why should we pay for a few months of extra life'.  How dare these callous fuckers sit in judgement on the value of a chance at an improved and longer life for those of us already facing a massively reduced life expectancy.

Even if, God forbid, TDM1 stops working for me tomorrow, I am immensely grateful for the last ten months of relatively good health and the chance I've had to enjoy being with family and friends,  living a 'normal' life and making memories.  Yet NICE seem to be able not only to put a price on all this put to determine it's not worth the financial cost.  What a bunch of bastards.

TDM1 is expensive at 90,000 pounds per person per year.  Knowing nothing about the drug company's research and development costs etc I've no idea if this is exorbitant, but I do acknowledge the drug companies are not generally known for their altruism.

However, the bottom line is that a drug that enables some patients more time with their friends and families is being denied to people.  In my book that's immoral.

This decision isn't going to change my treatment as I'm lucky enough to be on a drug company funded trial but is very bad news for anyone in the UK who thinks TDM1 might help them.  If you are in this position I would urge you to ask your oncologist if places are still available on the trial or to access funding, if you are based in England, through the Cancer Drugs Fund (this fund is due to cease in 2016).

Is it really that time already?

picture from here

The chemo trial I’m on calls for CT scans every twelve weeks to check how/if the swamp juice (TDM1 in my case) is working.  That’s fine by me.  I’d much rather run the risks inherent in regular bursts of radiation from the CT scanner than not know what is going on with my insides.  But it seems only five minutes ago that I was last scanned and bleating away about scanixety (the horrible waiting to hear what the scan has found).  But here I am again in scary land.  I celebrated my two year cancerversary last week (two years since diagnosis) with a CT scan.  Some time ago I was told that the average life expectancy for someone diagnosed with spread to another organ (lungs in my case) was two to three years.  So you can see why I am chewing my finger nails waiting to see the oncologist in two days time to find out the latest.

While I try to remain optimistic the fact is that at some point the chemo will stop working.  That’s the deal for those of us with secondary (aka metastatic) breast cancer.  If we’re lucky there’ll be another chemo or hormonal treatment that will hold things at bay for a bit but eventually we run out of options and the cancer comes out on top.  So, for now, I’m hoping and praying that my current chemo is continuing to give the cancer a bloody good slapping, and meanwhile the boffins in research labs develop more treatments or, dare I say it, even a cure.

While the above paragraphs sound pretty miserable (cancer is sodding miserable) I’ve actually been too busy of late to dwell on things too much.  I’ve been gadding here and there, resisting temptation and being insulted.

Gadding

I spent a couple of days in beautiful Oxford.  I love old stuff so it was just my cup of tea.  Look away now if you prefer modern architecture:

There were stacks of gargoyley things but these were favourites:

The donkey from Shrek?

The stuff of nightmares

Is it my lurid imagination or is this one poohing down a drainpipe? 

Also I spent time admiring the thoroughness of the road markings

Definitely no parking then

Resisting temptation

Sis no 1 dragged me back to Shropshire Cat Rescue but I managed not to bring any cats back home with me

even though there were cute shy ones

 

and Cyril look-a-likes

relaxed ginger poster boys

and, oh my goodness,

a sad three legged kitten in a jacket

Being insulted

I have been insulted by a complete stranger.  While I was out shopping a woman came up to me and said "ooh I do like your boots".  I smirked, lapping up the praise, only to be brought back down to earth with a bump when she added "I'd really like to know where you got them from, I've got wide feet and chunky calves too".

So that's my life at the moment, on the one hand anxiety and chunky calves but on the other poohing gargoyles and three-legged cats.  So, it's not all bad.

Delighted Del

I had good news today.  I went to the oncologist for my latest CT scan results.  The chemo is still doing it's stuff, there are no new metastases anywhere and the lung crap is continuing to shrink.  So I can carry on with the trial chemo for now with another review in March.  I am a very lucky, very happy bunny and am ready to get all Christmassy.  I've even done the annual Christmas twig decorating (being too mean to buy a tree)

 

However, while it seems my insides have been behaving themselves, Cyril (the three-legged monster cat) most certainly hasn't.  He's been in yet another fight resulting in a torn ear and a visit to the vets.  He's well on the mend now but not before he managed to splatter the spare room with blood, it looked like a scene out of CSI.  Here he is looking innocent but the tatty ear tells another story.

Now I'm off to make a start on the Christmas cards.  I may be some time.

Yay!

I saw the oncologist this morning and in his words 'the chemo is working'.  In my words 'yippee, open the champers and hang out the bunting'.

The crap in my lungs has shrunk.  I don't think it's shrunk much but this is the first time any treatment has seen a reduction in the cancer (previous CT scans have shown either stability or progression - progression being a Bad Thing when it comes to cancer). 

Just a note of caution here - I know I've probably gone on and on and on about this, but there is no cure for secondary breast cancer.  I will never be cured.  The best I can hope for is to hold things at bay.  But, hey, holding things at bay sounds pretty good to me!

The plan is to continue with three weekly doses of chemo and then scan again in three months.  I am a very happy bunny.  Many thanks to all those who've been in touch recently with best wishes and fluffy thoughts, very much appreciated. 

And just to show how jolly I feel, here's a previously unseen picture from the Shrewsbury Flower Show.  I spoil you, I really do.

Hot stuff

Picture from here

I started on the drug trial, TDM1, last week.  As it's a trial I had special treatment in the chemo unit.  There was a lot of attention, questioning and watchfulness from an assortment of nurses at regular intervals during the infusion.  Of course this is a Good Thing but, being an unreasonable git, I still found it annoying as it interrupted the intensive research I like to carry out while I'm on the unit.  That 'research' being the cover-to-cover reading of the type of celebrity gossip magazine I'm too snooty to buy but will happily consume in private if given the opportunity.  It also meant I had to be crafty about discarding the boiled sweet wrappers from the communal sweetie jar.  I think patients are meant to have one or two sweets not, like me, chomp their way through a hundred weight of the things and then come out with a sandpaper tongue, a major sugar rush and wonder why the NHS is short of money. 

Anyway, part of the irritating  info from the nurses involved possible side effects.  I did pay attention but have to admit I was thinking 'yeah, yeah, whatevs' as warnings were given, after all this chemo is known to have less side-effects than many others. 

It wasn't until a couple of days later when I stood simultaneously sweating and shaking in the supermarket that I wondered if the ice-cold/clammy combo was entirely normal.  There followed two days of grotty bed-bound  flu-like symptoms including an iffy temperature, a pounding head and everything aching.  

Fingers crossed that the cancer cells are feeling even worse than I did.

Kitchen capers

        Picture from here.  Artistic embellishment by moi

The building, re-wiring, decorating etc at Discombobulated Towers is finally finished.  Sis no 1 and her cat, Tuppence (the ginger ninja) can breathe a sigh of relief as I, the other-half and the three-legged monster cat have returned home after a prolonged (and much appreciated) stay at her house.

Stupidly we didn’t take any pictures of the old kitchen before work started but take it from me it was a dark, dank dungeon of a place.  But now?  Ta dah!

Cooker is cream, washer machine is white - Argh!

Flowers from the builder (probably included in his bill)

And, just for my mate M, look our co-produced artwork once again has pride of place (don’t worry I won’t tell anyone about how you bullied me into creating this masterpiece).

Please don't go thinking this refurb was a painless experience.  It took twice as long (or more) than we expected, went over budget and involved a dust up with a 'kitchen fitter' who could no more fit a kitchen than I could crochet a teapot. 

I always used to sneer, as I watched Grand Designs, at people who almost always spent loads more than they intended on their dream homes, took months and months longer than expected to complete building and ended up close to a nervous breakdown.  Now bitter experience has taught me better and I will watch the programme wearing my humble trousers in future.

However, all the trauma is behind us now and I can bask in the fantastic-ness of the new kitchen - it's not for cooking in you understand, just for looking at.  

Our small garden has taken a pounding.  It was used by the builders for storage space.  So while it used to look like this:

It now looks like this:

Which means that when Cyril went out for the first time since our return he couldn't resist rolling around in the sandy red grot and ended up looking like this:

I should at this point mention that I've also got new sofas.  One is cream coloured.  I sense a difficult evening ahead.

Normal non-refurb whinging will be resumed tomorrow when I start on chemo again - the drug trial TDM1.  Please keep everything crossed that this is the chemo that zaps the buggers!