Relief and shame

I got my latest scan results yesterday and, considering what I was half-expecting, they were a mighty relief.  

The scan of my head revealed nothing.  Oh shut up.  I do have a brain in there but, hurrah, there was no sign of cancer.  My bones although showing a couple of iffy bits on my ribs (which have been there for at least two years) are OK, in fact the iffy bits have improved so the oncologist still doesn't reckon it's cancer.  My liver (cancer detected there last year) has improved and my lungs (which have had cancer ever since I was first diagnosed just over three years ago) are stable.  The onc reckons my dizziness is due to low blood pressure and my back ache to old age.  Never have I been so happy to have someone tell me I'm an old crock.

This means I carry on with my current chemo, which although causing me fatigue and sometimes an exciting dash in the direction of the bathroom, hasn't caused hair loss or major sickness.

As I was very concerned about the outcome of the latest scans I haven't been planning ahead massively, but that's now changed and already today I've been out and bought some summer clothes and, now I know I'm not going to lose my hair in the near future, have booked a haircut.  My thoughts are now turning towards summer holidays.  Watch out world, I'm on the rampage.

In order to distract me from chewing my non-existent finger nails, the other-half, sis no 3 and I headed out to Cheshire on the day before I got my results to visit Bluebell Cottage Gardens and Nursery.   It was glorious, look

However it's not all joy and bluebells at Discombobulated Towers I'm afraid.  On Wednesday evening Cyril (the three-legged monster cat) caught his first bird.  Thankfully I don't have any pictures as Cyril took his prey next door to give it a good munch there.  He made a quick exit from our garden due to the other-half yelling 'drop it' at him as if he was some kind of obedient dog.  So, I have raised a bully and a murderer.  Where did I go wrong?

Plodding on

I started a new (to me) treatment last month (after the cancer in my lungs had started growing again and also spread into my liver).  As with any medicine this chemo, capecitabine, and biological therapy, lapatinib, come with a huge list of possible side-effects.  And it seems that I am working my sorry way through the whole sodding list.  So far some of the highlights have been itchiness, acne, heartburn, queasiness, diarrhoea and fatigue.  

Thankfully, for the most part, the side-effects have cropped up one or two at a time rather than all at once.  For the past couple of weeks it's been the fatigue that's been the real downer.  I've spent a lot of time lossicking about in bed or on the sofa and have missed out on some planned outings or had to come home early.  So I'm feeling a bit hard done by and sulky.  Fortunately I have a book backlog to get through so being (sort of) housebound has had some compensations.  I have a scan next month so then I'll find out if the treatment is working or not.  If it isn't working and I've been feeling grotty for nothing I will be unbearable, be warned!

Anyway all this sitting about at home being grumpy isn't interesting for anyone. Fortunately Cyril, the three-legged monster cat, is keeping me entertained.  His recent exploits include spending hours who-knows-where and coming home covered in mud,

and when the weather prevents even this intrepid explorer from going outside finding puddles, he polishes his hunting skills.  Here is he chasing elk.

He also fell asleep on a hapless and rather large spider.  When he woke up he was walking around with the horrible (and very dead) eight-legged monstrosity squished on his face.  Fatigue or no I found I was able to run away from him in quite a sprightly fashion.  No pictures, I was too busy standing on a chair screaming, the most exercise I'd had in ages.

Bad ideas

If anyone is looking for some bad ideas I have a few you could use:

1.  Lose the ability to tell the time

I woke up this morning, got out of bed, turned the heating on, made my morning cuppa and fed the cat.  Then I double-checked the time.  It was 3.30am.  

2.  Try to compete with the cat for warmth

Strangely enough, this afternoon I felt rather tired (I wonder why).  I decided to have a snooze in front of the electric fire.  Stupidly I failed to take into account what Cyril (three-legged monster cat) would make of the situation.

Della 0 - Cyril 1

3.  Give poorly liver a good bashing

So, what do you think would be a good thing to do on finding out that not only has the cancer in my lungs grown but has now also made an appearance in my liver?  Maybe double check my will, meditate like mad or increase my vile green juice intake?  Nah.  Instead I gave my liver a (very enjoyable) evening out and a thorough hammering with an exciting lager/wine combo.

4.  Behave like a 17 year old (with apologies to all sensible 17 year olds out there)

So what next after mixing several gallons of the grape and the grain?  Some damage limitation maybe, like straight to bed with a pint of water?  Nah.  Let's live dangerously, get the felt pens out, and draw on the face of my hapless friend who'd fallen asleep on the sofa.  Thankfully, the following morning, the pen washed off.  Otherwise I would not be around to type this today.

5.  Indulge in public nudity

As you can imagine I attend a lot of medical appointments.  Dignity is a thing of the past and I now peel off my clothes at the drop of a hat.  However, it really wasn't a very good idea to walk into a reflexology appointment on automatic pilot.  I was half-way through taking my top off when I caught sight of the poor reflexology lady's face and remembered that this was most definitely not a stripping off sort of appointment.

6.  Expect any form of co-operation from our feline overlords

This weekend I accompanied friends to the heaven-on-earth that is Shropshire Cat Rescue, where they were choosing which cat to adopt.  All of this is of course, a very good idea.  However I, rather optimistically, decided to take a photo of Pickle the soon-to-be-adopted cat.  My photographic endeavours were scuppered by Pickle's ginger and white cage-mate, Ed. 

I believe the young people call this photo bombing

7.  Experiment in interior design

I've included this one to make myself feel better, as this isn't my bad idea.

A loo roll cover seen in a cafe toilet in Alnwick.  The owner assured me that she'd won it in a darts competition and had not made it herself.


So, there you have it, a selection of bad ideas you might want to try yourself.  No need to thank me.  

I start my new chemo, capecitabine and lapatinib, next week.  Here's hoping that my cancer thinks this is a very bad idea and receives a good kicking from the combo.  Fingers crossed.

And finally, it's December now, which means I am officially allowed to mention Christmas.  So here, have a courgette penguin, as seen at the flower show in the summer. (Oh, OK a zucchini penguin then, if you don't speak English proper like what I do.)

Don't scoff, it's heaps better than the mawkish nonsense produced by John Lewis.  And if you don't agree with me see Charlie Brooker's view on Christmas adverts, a man after my own heart.  Happy Christmas!