Ah, now I see why the Prof has kept asking me if I feel depressed over the past couple of visits – I guess it must be one of those things that happens to people a certain way into treatment and he was on the lookout for it. Well yes – I think it's hit!<\/p>\n
Has been quite a hard last couple of weeks – my back pain was diagnosed as actual fractures in my sacrum (bottom bit of back, to you and me) – still apparently nothing to do with the Myeloma, but still remarkably one of the key symptoms of the disease so its still very hard to swallow that there is no link between the two things. And it came with one of those great choices of treatment attached – either wait two weeks in pain and see if it just gets better (upside – no operation, downside bloody painful still) or have an op (upside: pain removed, downside - description was 'it involves nails and cement'). Hmm – so had to choose the waiting option, which has meant I now move at the pace of a Giant Tortoise and have the agility and sex appeal to match. 10 days in and its probably only 10% better so not quite sure how it will pan out.<\/p>\n
On top of that, I think the 2 months of zero sleep have caught up with me, so now feel absolutely knackered all the time and am sleeping round the clock! So – at least that means no more (hopefully!) nights of roaming round the house, washing up at 3am, emailing at 4am, ordering Christmas baubles online at 5am and collapsing in front of ancient episodes of Law & Order SVU at 6am.. Even watching Quins vs Bath Rugby on Sunday in the freezing cold didn't keep me awake – well,the first half was a bit slow, so I dozed quite happily in my 18 layers of clothing among 20,000 shouting supporters….<\/p>\n
And am feeling generally pissed off about the lack of certainty of anything – will there be another course of treatment after the one that ends on 24th Dec? If there is, does this mean we'll have to cancel our 2 night trip to Bruges in between Xmas and New Year? (Talk about scaling back the travel plans – a week in Mauritius post 40th became a week much nearer home in the cleaner option of Dubai, then 3-4 days in Northern France and is now a risible 2 bloody nights in Belgium – and now we might not even be able to do that! Grrrr…. you can only imagine how frustrating it all is)<\/p>\n
Add to that the questions over when will the stem cell transplant happen? This was always pitched to us as being mid\/late Jan – until last week's session with the Prof when he suddenly said that if the chemo tretament continued to work well and bring the protein score down, then I would need to do another 1-3 cycles of it until the score hit a plateau or went up a bit. So this could mean the transplant being in Jan still, or Feb or March. Which makes me feel like my life is on hold until that has happened and we know the outcome. And I can try and then get back to normal. So, another crock of bollocks to add to the ever growing pile.<\/p>\n
And then throw in the weight issue. Yes, I know cancer people have to take steroids, and yes – steroids give you water retention and also a raging appetite, so you carry both water and extra blubber around – but yesterday I discovered that not only am I stuck in the two pairs of trousers that still fit me, but that my winter coat is also too tight. Yes – that'll be the roomy coat I bought only last year, which now I can barely get on. It just doesn't help you feel good about yourself in any way shape or form. And for all the people who kindly say 'you haven't changed a bit' – I know I have, either that or the scales and practically my entire wardrobe have been switched into Petite sizes by evil goblins!!!!! I feel like a bloody elephant – and even my new jewellery for my birthday is now unwearable – the necklaces are tight around my fat neck and until I come off steroids I am limited to the few on longer chains. FatFighters eat your heart out.<\/p>\n
And beyond that there's a mountain of cancer-related dull stuff to be sorted – from endless calls to the health insurers (who keep rejecting invoices and then very happily paying them once I've been forced to call and sort it out), to the salary insurance company, to the travel insurers to see if anyone will cover me now I am a liability, to the hospitals to sort appointments, to choosing a wig (yes, really cheery as you can imagine) to trying to read up on myeloma (ditto, with knobs on), to keeping up with work, to researching alternative therapies (not my bag, but am trying to be open minded), to trying to find formats of these products that I can actually swallow (first alternative treatment – Bio Curcumin – comes in monster capsules which I, even with all the practice I have been getting of late, cannot swallow), to rewriting the 21 day pills charts that the Oncology Pharmacy issues into something that a human can actually understand, and take, 4 times a day.<\/p>\n
Oh yes, and also trying to live a normal life too, like having a relationship, looking after a house etc, as well as trying to sort out that Christmas thing too, that seems to be coming up. Arse bollocks. I already had a busy life and trying to squeeze something that I didn't choose and hate and begrudge every minute of, and that takes up an extra 70% of time into it is proving a challenge even for my organisational skills… I would do anything for it to go away, but it's just not possible.<\/p>\n
So – sorry for the not terribly cheery diatribe but – honestly – this is what this is really like on a day to day basis right now. There are some more upbeat moments when – sometimes for as long as 15 minutes – I actually forget about bloody Myeloma and Cancer and Oncology and any of the other words I never thought I would use to describe myself – but generally it's always there, not even at the back of your head but right at the front of it. Something you wake up every day with, cry about as you drive along in the car and go to sleep thinking about. A bit like a steaming pile of newly laid poo – even with your eyes shut you can tell its still there and that it's never going to go away.<\/p>\n
Am seeing Prof again this Thurs for Day 1 of the next cycle of chemo et all. Here's hoping he has some good news or at least some dates and timings that we can start to plan around. Now go off and have a large drink of something alcoholic – if you actually read all the way through to this point you probably need it. And if you're thinking about ringing me, maybe just drop me a text instead – I wouldn't really want to talk to me right now, and am feeling a bit reclusive – but a text is always good to know you're out there. Ta S x<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Ah, now I see why the Prof has kept asking me if I feel depressed over the past couple of visits – I guess it must be one of those things that happens to people a certain way into treatment and he was on the lookout for it. Well yes – I think it's hit! […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1477","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n