No go

I have recently had a birthday.  Here are a couple of (poor quality) photos of presents from sis no 2 and my mate T.  Both were gift wrapped.

I bet you envy me having such caring friends and relations don't you?  

Yep it's fair to say I've been a bit bunged up of late.  Probably due to the liquid morphine I take to help suppress my cough.  In a vague and unsuccessful nod at being modern I bought some looser jeans a few months ago, a sort of cowardly 'boyfriend' fit.  I believe this was in vogue about five years ago, so pretty hip and happening by my standards.  Anyway these looser fit jeans have now become my constipation trousers.  I recommend them.  No fashionista would be without a pair.  Nice and roomy if you catch my drift.

So I don't bother blogging for ages and then I give you an opening paragraph on constipation.  Have you missed me?

I had results from a CT scan a few weeks ago.  I was very surprised and very pleased to learn that there was no change in the disease.  I really was staggered as the breathlessness on any form of exertion (eg brushing my teeth) had me convinced that the cancer in my lungs had been growing apace.  The medical bods then tried me on antibiotics as some inflammation in my lungs was evident but they don't appear to have done anything.  I'm now on a trial week of steroids to see if they help.  They don't seem to have done anything for my breathlessness but I do have a bit more energy thank goodness.  The fatigue has been pretty crushing at times.  To be honest the fatigue has been one of the main reasons I haven't blogged recently.  That and spending all my time in the loo (with scant reward for my efforts).

Oh I lie.  I did get a reward for all my lavatorial efforts.  A fractured rib.  I have pathetic bone density and the strain proved too much.  It's on the mend now but for a couple of days it was ouchy to say the least.

So there you have it, my past few weeks.  Very little gadding about to tell you about.  Although I did go to a vintage wedding.  Look we got dressed up

Somehow the other-half managed to get his (rented) hat coated in horse radish sauce.  There really is no end to his talents.  The hire company haven't said anything ... yet.

I have a whole blissful week ahead of me with no medical appointments.  Hallelujah.  But next week sees another CT scan and I'm afraid I'm not optimistic about the results I'll be getting the week after that.  But whatever I'll keep you informed, whether you like it or not. 

Oh and while I'm being a misog, I'm pretty sure I'm losing my hair again (for the third time) even though it isn't a listed side effect of my current trial chemo.  Arse biscuits!

Ta-ra for now.


 

Waiting game

Picture from here

It's anxious waiting time at Discombobulated Towers.  I've had some of the tests at The Christie to see if I'll be able to get on to a clinical trial and so far, so good. However, I will be going back twice next week for three more tests, so it's not over yet by a long chalk.  

In the event of all being well, my first dose of the trial chemo is scheduled for 29th June, and frankly it can't come a moment too soon.  I've not had any treatment at all for about three weeks now (this is a requirement for getting on the trial) and the deterioration in my health has been pretty marked.  Added to the worsening coughing and breathlessness are pains in my back and the type of fatigue that has me wondering, in my darker moments, how I'm going to cope with the trips to Manchester or even if I'm going to be well enough to start chemo.  There is a temptation to go back to my local hospital and say give me some chemo NOW!  However, this isn't a wise option.  The local oncologist has told me that neither of my two remaining chemo options are likely to be of much benefit to me (in fact the last option has only an 8-10% chance of working).  So I'm hanging on, waiting and hoping for the clinical trial at The Christie.

I do have lighter moments though.  These include:

• Seeing the Eddie Redmayne lookalike onc once more at the Christie and being reassured by how positive he is about the trial
• Spending time with sisters 1, 2 and 3.  *Highlights include; discovering sis no 1 patrolling the garden at dusk, killing slugs while chanting 'double, double, toil and trouble'; sis no 2 and I buying identical handbags and walking around the local open gardens event like two Fashion Girls; introducing sis no 3 to The Sewing Bee and hearing her talk enthusiastically about pvc.
• Watching fluffy TV, like Love, Nina
• Watching bonkers TV, like Versailles 
• Getting Germany in the other-half's family Euro 2016 sweep stake.  Rest assured, I will not let any winnings change me.

*  I have absolutely no confidence in my ability to use semi-colons correctly.  I usually avoid them but today decided to throw caution to the wind (that's the kind of wild devil-may-care person I am).  Feel free to take me to task if I have played fast and loose with this punctuation mine-field.

Hot cockles!

Well my cockles have been well and truly warmed.  The fund raising barn dance (raising money for Breast Cancer Now and Compton Hospice) took place last night, and what a successful evening it was on all fronts!

To start off here's a couple of photos of the two of the cuter attendees who (like many others) had come dressed up to the nines.  Howdy pardners.

So many people made so much effort to ensure the evening was a success that it's hard to know where to start but, at the risk of this turning into a blub-fest worthy of an Oscar winner, here goes:

First and foremost huge thanks to Ian and Amy (the other-half's nephew and his lovely wife) who came up with the idea of the event in the first place and then worked tirelessly to make it a success.  The mere thought of the amount of hard graft they took on makes me want to have a lie down in darkened room.  And they did all this in the same year that they organised their house move from one area of the country to another, their overseas wedding and also their UK wedding celebrations.  Some people are just gluttons for punishment!

Also, thanks to more relations, namely Lee, Lydia, Sam and Gail who helped organise, obtained fantastic raffle prizes and sold heaps of tickets.

Lip-smacking thanks to all the cake makers (cakes were also sold on the night to raise dosh).  There were some fantastic and tasty creations, including industrial quantities of secret-recipe muffins from sis no 1 and cakes bearing the logos of the charities made by the lovely Carmel.  Even the other-half put his chef's hat on:

Big cheers too for the raffle prizes, either supplied by friends and family or obtained by them by going to their employers and local businesses.  Big thanks in particular go to the kind generosity of Virgin Trains.

Thanks to all those who helped set up on the evening, organising things like a well-oiled machine in a very limited time, while I faffed around like a particulary ineffective fart in a thunderstorm.

Thanks too to those who couldn't make it but still gave donations, which were very much appreciated.

And of course the evening would have been nothing without the support of all those who came along.  We had a really good crowd who completely entered into the spirit of things, the dance floor was full all evening from start to finish.

One of the main reasons the dance floor was so busy was the all round excellence of the band, the Slippery Hill Boys and their caller.  I really can't praise them highly enough.  Quite simply they were bloody brilliant and I wouldn't hesitate to recommend them to anyone wanting a hoe-down to remember!  Here they are setting up

And here's the crowd thanking them at the end of the night

So the nitty-gritty.  As the result of everyone's generosity £1400  was raised for the two charities.  I am totally chuffed.  So before I start blubbing and hugging everyone in sight I'll sign off for now with more photos from the night.  Yee-haw! 

Dangerous Del

Today I have been wildly reckless.  I have changed the quilt on my bed from winter to summer mode.  So now I'll be snoozing under 9 togs instead of the usual 15.  I know, CRAZY (given the erratic summer we're having here in England), but that's the way I roll.

I've been doing quite a lot of snoozing lately, either in bed or on the sofa.  I think it's due to the current chemo but as side effects go it could be so much worse, so I will cease my whinging here.

Before I move on from the subject of cancer I just thought I'd mention that Breakthrough Breast Cancer (one of the charities we will be raising funds for at the forthcoming barn dance) has merged with Breast Cancer Campaign to form Breast Cancer Now, the largest breast cancer charity in the UK.  The new website is still nauseatingly pink (don't start me on the whole pink thing) but other than that I'm impressed.  They seem to be taking metastatic breast cancer seriously and their new TV advert is, I think, spot on.  You can view it here.

I'm still obsessed by my tiny but, I think, lovely garden.  Here's the latest - front and back

This is what happens if you scatter poppy seeds with wild abandon (I will be starting an opium farm shortly)

Not content with sitting in my own garden I recently went on a tour of neighbourhood plots as part of the open gardens scheme.  It was a lovely sunny afternoon and at one point we were sat in someone's garden listening to a string quartet while drinking tea and scoffing cake.  It doesn't get much better than that.

Here are some edited highlights (and yes, I was very, very, jealous)

Herbaceous borders to kill for

Someone else with a poppy fetish

Swoon fest

 

shed envy

and scarecrows with attitude

And lest you think I have gone completely peculiar over plants, don't worry my number one concern remains mog-based.  I leave you with pictures of the cats I came across during my garden tour (all in all a blissful afternoon).

A Cyril look-a-like (apart from the full set of back legs)

Hello handsome

This one, Celeste, was in disgrace for bird murder (in full view of guests)

 

 

 

Oh yes, he knew he was beautiful

Yee-haw

Anyone want to help raise money for Breakthrough Breast Cancer and Compton Hospice?  Anyone want to have a good laugh?  Anyone at a loose end on the evening of Saturday 27^th June 2015? 

Then mosey on down to Codsall Village Hall (Staffordshire) for a hoe-down (that’s a barn dance, not an evening of weeding you knuckle heads).  

The event starts at 8pm and tickets are £10 each (under 14s free).  All profits will go to the charities mentioned above.  You’ll need to bring your own drink and nibbles but there will be cake (food of the gods) and music by the amazing Slippery Hill Boys.  

We’ve also got some rattling good raffle prizes including

• 2 adult first class day train tickets
• A photo shoot with CD of 40 pictures
• M & S vouchers (two lots worth fifty quid each)
• A family swim session
• Bottles of bubbly

If you’re interested contact me or Nev for tickets.  If you don’t have my contact details just leave a comment and I’ll get back to you.

I’d also like to say a big thank you to a couple of the other-half’s nephews who have been working their socks off to make this event a success.  On the evening I’ll try to lay off the booze otherwise I’ll be telling them that I love them all night, which would be icky for everyone.

Anyway come on, don’t miss out on all the hot hillbilly action (or something like that) and come to Codsall on Saturday 27^th June 2015 (don’t forget to contact me for tickets first), oh and feel free to spread the word.

Be there or be square.

Cold turkey for New Year

Picture from here

I can’t be trusted to get anything right.  Remember the cock-up I made ages ago with steroids?  Well I’ve messed up with two other prescription drugs since I last posted.  I feel I should get some sort of medicine mishap medal.

Firstly, way back when I was first diagnosed with secondary breast cancer I was prescribed citalopram, an anti-anxiety/anti-depressant drug.  Finding out, very unexpectedly, that I had terminal cancer was, to use a medical term, a complete bugger of a bloody, buggering bastard.  My anxiety levels went through the roof.  I couldn’t even stroke Cyril (the three-legged monster cat) because my palms were permanently sweaty with fear.  My feet were permanently sweaty too and more than one pair of slippers ended up sealed in a hazardous waste bag in the bin.

Anyway, citalopram, time and a treatment plan helped me return to something of an even keel (as much as my keel has ever been even) and, over the last few months, I’ve been feeling pretty chirpy and have managed to cut down on the amount of citalopram I take.  (If anyone reading this is in the unfortunate position of just having been diagnosed with secondary breast cancer I would say, take heart, there’s a very good chance that you will feel intermittently less devastated given time and, if need be, prescription drugs.) 

Now, cutting down on the citalopram with advice from my GP is one thing.  Having such a high time over Christmas that I forgot to take it at all for several days is another kettle of bananas altogether.  It wasn’t until shortly before New Year, when I was sat in a puddle of misery (that’s a metaphorical puddle in case you’re worried about my new-ish sofa), that I remembered the untaken tablets.  I’m back popping the pills now and feeling a lot better for it. 

Medication mistake number two.  I’ve been taking slow release morphine since last summer when I experienced horrible pain.  The horrible pain, I am very glad to report, has since been under control but I have continued with the morphine mainly because I’m a sacredly cat and didn’t want to run the risk of experiencing such pain ever again if I could possibly avoid it.  However, one of the side effects of morphine is that it, erm, gums you up somewhat.  Oh for goodness sake stop looking so puzzled, I’m talking constipation here, it’s no good trying to be delicate with you lot is it?  Over Christmas, probably due to over-indulgence in all things yummy, I was well and truly gummed up to the gills.  I decided, in my dimwitted way, to stop taking the morphine in the hope it would ease things.  Sure enough my insides became un-gummed and thankfully the horrible pain did not return.  So far so good.  But then I began to feel well and truly grotty.  The grottiness continued so I belatedly read the leaflet that came with the morphine.  It advised patients not to stop taking the drug without the advice of a doctor because of the risk of suffering withdrawal symptoms.  Oops.  So I went back on the morphine pronto and am now feeling much better for it.  I’ve seen my GP and have a plan for weaning myself off over the next few weeks, so stand by for future moaning.  I assume that the grottiness I experienced was about a million-trilloneth-zilloneth of what somebody going through real cold turkey feels like.  All I can say is hats off to anyone who undergoes the real McCoy.

So there you have it.  I’m only on two prescription drugs at the moment and I managed to mess up on both.  Thank goodness the swamp juice (chemo) is administered by nurses.  I dread to think what I’d do left to my own devices.

Despite the whingy tone of this post I had a good Christmas and New Year, although there was one very traumatic moment when the other-half unwrapped the CD shown below

Oh the horror

If any non-UK readers think that this is a CD of howls from the wild, then you are pretty much right.  Except this is songs sung at Wolverhamptom Wanderers Football Club rather than the cries of noble beasts.  Maybe I should double up on those anti-depressants after all.