The Lurgy

I’m starting the New Year in the traditional way, by feeling like a bag of bollocks.  I’ve been fighting off the lurgy for a few days but overnight my immune system waved the white flag and I’ve woken up with a streaming nose, hacking cough and total and utter grumpiness.  

To make matters worse I think they’ve changed the recipe for Lemsip.  I used to love Lemsip.  It almost made having a cold worthwhile but now, due to an ingredient change, or the state of my chemo-altered taste buds, it tastes like a menthol/antiseptic cocktail that’s been mixed in a disintegrating hot water bottle, only worse.

The lurgy does have some consolations though.  I’ve got up early (to spare the other-half having to listen to me cough) and draped myself on the sofa while watching the 1953 version of The War of the Worlds on the telly and, best of all, am snuggled up under a really wonderful present.  This picture doesn’t do it justice, but look what a friend made me, a completely gorgeous quilt.  

 

It’s in exactly the right colours for my sitting room, so even though I’m poorly, I'm colour co-ordinated.  I'm afraid I disgraced myself a little bit and came over all emotional when I was given the quilt but, honestly, what a beautiful gift.  

Talking of wonderful things.  Christmas.  We had a real slap-up, no holds barred, rip-roaring Christmas.  I stayed in a very swanky house with lots of family and friends, including all three of my sisters.  It was a bit of a Downtown Abbey experience (only we were all very good and no-one behaved like arch-bitch Lady Mary).  Just look at where we had our Christmas dinner. 

Yes, it's a wonky picture, but alcohol had been taken

At the risk of sounding as my dad used to say, as soppy as a sack load of bottoms, it was a truly lovely Christmas.  Also, I've now got ideas above my station and won't step outside the front door unless I'm wearing a tiara. 

We took the Christmas-cake-that-nearly-caused-a-divorce-in-the-making with us.  Amazingly most of it was eaten, probably due to the industrial quantities of sherry and brandy it contained.  When it came to cake decoration we decided to go with the true meaning of Christmas and had an Ice Road Truckers theme.  And here it is (another poor photo but you get the gist)

We are now taking orders for next Christmas.  Don't all rush at once.

Since Christmas, normality has returned.  I've come back to a dose of chemo with the usual temperature spike and trip to hospital the following day (New Years Eve).  All was OK and I was released after a thorough checking over, although I could've done without the four attempts to get a cannula in to administer IV antibiotics. 

I've also had a CT scan and am waiting three weeks for the results, which is as usual, scary, scary, scary.  

But for now I'm concentrating on lying on the sofa sniffling.  If anyone wants to buy shares in a tissue factory now's the time.

(Apologies if this blog post is displaying a variety of font sizes, I think my computer has the lurgy too).

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.


 

Head in hands

Bugger, bugger, bugger.  My latest CT scan has revealed that the cancer in my lungs is growing.  This means I stop the current chemo and move on to a new (to me) swamp juice, Eribulin, next week.  Hey ho.  To console myself, since returning home from the hospital, I've had a glass of sherry, a custard tart and a snickers bar.  Now to add insult to injury I'm feeling a bit sick.  I wonder why.

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.

Help ...

Picture from here

Lor love a duck I’m sweating cobs.  Or, to put it another way, it’s a little bit on the warm side. 

With my special powers (courtesy of Blogger) I’m able to see how many people look at this blog and whereabouts in the world they are.  Don’t worry, I don’t get any further details than that, so sadly I am unable to stalk anyone on an individual basis and turn up on doorsteps demanding sherry and pickled onions.  However it’s very interesting, and also quite thrilling (hello people in Russia), to see where in the world this blog is being read.  I’m sure a few readers (hello Aussies) would scoff at my describing 28^oC (or 82^oF, hello Americans) as unbearably hot, but for we delicate English people it’s sweltering.  It’s particularly hot, so I’m told, for anyone taking any form of exercise.  So hats off to Julie and Frances who both took part in the Race for Life at the weekend raising money for Cancer Research UK.  I was honoured that both Julie and Frances chose to put my name on their competitors' bibs.  I’m a soft old thing these days so I was really touched by their thoughtfulness.  Here’s a picture of Julie’s back (warning – she’s almost a potty-mouthed as me):

I say a lot of other things to cancer too, but let's not lower the tone

I’m glad to say that not only did they both survive taking part in the event in temperatures pushing 30^oC but also managed to complete the course. What a pair of tough cookies!  Thanks also to those who sponsored Julie.  What a bunch of good eggs you are.

Seeing as it’s blazing hot I have taken up the knitting needles once more.  Yes, woolly items are obviously the number one priority in summer.  Anyway I’ve decided that patterns are for wimps and so I am inventing my own thingummy.  I’m choosing to be a bit mysterious about it for now, but if the thingummy turns out to be even vaguely OK I will tell you about it another time.  If not, I may discreetly let the matter slide.

I’m bouncing back nicely after my stay in hospital a couple of weeks ago.  The pain seems to be well under control now (fingers crossed) so I was able to meet up with my sisters (yes they were all in the UK again, couldn’t you hear the shouting?) and some of my cousins too.  It was great to see everyone.

I saw Mr Oily (the oncologist) today and, although there won’t be much to report until I have scans sometime next month, he seemed fairly happy with the way things are going.  He also pointed out that one of the ‘swellings’ I’d been worrying about was, in fact, muscle.  This not only put my mind at rest but also made feel all svelte and athletic, which isn’t bad in anybody’s book.

Did you think I was going to get through a whole post without mentioning Cyril (three-legged monster cat)?  More fool you if you did.  Here’s another picture of him in action, using his carpeted cat tunnel.

See you around

Until next time, stay cool daddios.

The delights of middle-age

One of the nurses I've been speaking to recently as part of the whole cancer blah blah blah said that I was considered quite young to have contracted this shitty disease. She didn't say shitty. I invented that bit, but the bit about me being 'young' was true, honest.

I didn't like to puncture her balloon by telling her that never has middle-age suited someone as much as it does me. In fact I've made three exciting discoveries lately which I was too narrow-minded (ie young and foolish) to try before. I'll share them here in case someone hasn't yet tried them. Go on, have a go, you know you want to.

Cocoa - Proper cocoa mind. None of this sweet drinking chocolate nonsense. It's a bit like milky mud. I'm hardcore me - I don't add sugar at all but you can if you're a bit of a wuss.

Sherry - This stuff hits the spot. So far I've been having dinky glasses of it. But I'm tempted to say sod it and just stick a straw in the bottle and get on with it. It's like cough mixture with a kick. I recommend it.

And finally, and most shamefully:

Jigsaws - They're brilliant. What's not to like? Sorting
the straight edges from the completely wiggly bits (you have to do the outline first or the four horsemen of the apocalypse will be released, everyone knows that), fending off the cat when he wants to sit on the puzzle (or worse still use the box with the as yet unsorted bits as a litter tray) or just snapping at your jigsaw companions (you know who you are) when they hoard the good bits and leave you to do the sky. And just in case you don't think I mean it, look - evidence of a work in progress. It's tricky, I mean it's got a reflection in a lake and everything. I thoroughly recommend hot jigsaw action.

There. Three things to change your lives. No need to thank me.