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The Diary of a Chemotherapy Mum
I can tell you might wonder, I know I did. I had watched the Hollywood version but this couldn’t be true, could it?
Decisions Decisions..
If I am going to be honest, I am not sure that I would have gone down this route at all – had it not been for one very important fact.
I am a mother, first and foremost, and before anything else.
After some serious deliberating and some serious discussions I have made a very important decision. I have decided that I will accept the
The thing is, that something just doesn’t sit well with me about chemotherapy itself. It feels like the only option, but at the same time somewhere in the back of my mind there is an unsettling gut feeling that I will be poisoning all the perfectly good cells too. The chances of
‘At what point would the chances be slim enough for me to convince myself that I do not need it?’
In my heart of hearts I know the answer, that, and the added element of fear has helped make my mind up.
It turns out that it’s difficult to explain what chemo feels like. Everyone’s experience is different (it’s true) and the cocktail of drugs that you can be given varies – everyone reacts differently. But that is not really what you want to hear when you are trying to
In fairness my nurse has offered to put me in touch with others of my own age, those who had been though the experience (those who had both good and bad experiences) but in all honesty, I am quite a private person. I am not ready to talk to others at this point. Personally I find reading rather than talking is easier, so this is my feeble attempt at actually saying it out loud –
Chemo Session #1
After the initial diagnosis, the facts, the figures and all the jargon, the treatment begins. Time to rid the body of all of the rogue cells that could be floating about. Before going for my first session I did the one thing that you are told not to do. I research on the Internet, desperately trying to find something that will tell me what it will actually feel like. I have probably over–researched but I like to know everything, I did the same when I was pregnant too.
Lisa Lynch from the C-
I have done all the things that I am supposed to do – drank tonnes of water, visited the dentist, drank yet more water and eaten good food beforehand. As it turns out the first dose is not as bad as I
The ward is surprisingly cheery, as are the nurses. I sit in a nice purple chair and am administered EC (Epirubicin and Chlorophosphomide) manually. As soon as it is all over you are then sent home to deal with the aftermath of how chemotherapy drugs truly affect your body.
The best I can describe it as is the flu or perhaps a VERY bad hangover. My head feels like it might explode from the pressure,
[At this point I have to say that I feel quite bad in saying it how it really is, mainly because it seems like an ‘unspoken rule’ that no- one should talk about. It’s a bit like not telling other expecting mums what it really feels like to go through labour. It is quite an inbuilt British way I find, that we are brought up to feel as if we shouldn’t talk about illness or pain, and just shoulder it and soldier on.]
But then if no one ever
Chemo Session #2
The following doses do tend to get gradually harder – all the same experience but your body starts to question what the hell you are doing to it. This time I was more prepared, leggings on with a nice top accompanied with a fleecy blanket and several other helpful items in my ‘chemo bag’ that I think might be helpful. All things I forgot last time (nice smelling conditioner, a book, hair things and snacks for the ever – patient husband keeping me company).
It is probably a good time to explain the Cold Cap at this
The second dose is also in the afternoon (the first was a morning session) so the anti-sickness drugs I take when I get home proceeds in keeping me up all night, through the nausea (it is fair to say that I do not look good the following day).
Sleep is key.
Chemo Session #3
Try as I might, (and I am trying to portray the positives in all of this) I have to honestly say that I have worked myself up before my third round. It is my own fault, we all have ‘off days’ and this day all the little
Now dressed in leggings, a non-matching jumper, hair thrown up into a bobble and not looking particularly good I have forgotten my hair things, my nice smelling conditioner and other bits and pieces need. I have remembered my essential fleece (bought by a kind friend) to keep me warm and obviously my now long suffering husband! The dread of the nausea and the cold cap means that I am snappy and irritable, and generally probably not nice to be around.
The hospital have mislabelled my bloods that are required for
Today I really want to draw the curtains around my bay (the wards are generally open) because I just want some level of privacy. In the end
In telling me her story she has made me realise that I need to ’snap out’
Just Keep Going
My husband thinks that I am the worst patient ever. I think this somewhat annoying trait (for those trying to care for you) and I may have inherited it from my mother. You see, my sisters and I seem to have this inbuilt determination to just keep going (probably the best thing my
Having said that, you have to know when you have met your match and I can honestly say that I have met my match with this one, well and truly. I considered not writing anymore because I am now struggling, and that is putting it mildly. BUT I did say that I would write a true and honest account so here it is – warts and all.
Chemo session # 4
This morning my little boy announced that he did not want me to go. This unexpectedly jolted
Today is the M.O.T
Chemo session # 5
My children’s behaviour is starting to go down the pan. They are being kindly looked after by my mum and sister, and treated and placated – and they are doing so well, but deep down I know that they need more time with their mummy. You see, I say no (a lot less frequently nowadays) however I do say no, and mean it when I do.
My daughter made a bold statement that she wanted not just one, but three ’sleep overs’ at grandma’s house this morning (the morning of my fifth session). I am glad and relieved that she
Chemo session # 6
I am unsure of what to say about this one, other than it hurts.
Not physically but emotionally. Ridiculously I seem to have forgotten a little bit about how it really feels during and
Again I somehow manage not to actually throw up and I reluctantly agree with my chemo nurse in my pre- assessment that I have had it fairly easy with the side effects of the treatment overall (although it doesn’t feel like it). All I will say is this – I miss my babies. I miss them so much it hurts my heart, and I have only just seen them this morning when I managed the school/ nursery drop off. They are only away for a day or two each time so I have no idea where all the emotion has come
It is a very strong feeling that only another mum would understand.
The only thing that has helped me through this one, have been the very kind words of a friend just telling me about something normal this afternoon (something other than cancer) as it feels as if the ’C word’ has been all-consuming today.
So there you have it. The unspoken rule. Not always pretty, not always positive, but very real and very true, and now you know.
It is what it is.