Grim news

The news at the hospital yesterday was grim.

 

The Oncologist agrees with me. It looks as though the tumours ae growing, the cancer is spreading. He’s arranging another CT scan soon to check.

 

I’m starting a weaker dose of the chemo I had a month ago. Hopefully I’m not going to react as badly as did to the previous dose. However, both he & I suspect the chemo is not working, that my body is just rejecting this form of chemo. He feels, though, I should try another dose before dismissing it.

 

He also admits he’s already tried me on the most likely to be effective forms of chemo, between what I had last year & this lot. There are other forms of chemo to try but he’s not very optimistic of their success against the very virulent form of cancer I’ve got. The only good sign is that, as far as we know, the cancer hasn’t spread into any vital organs yet.

 

Basically I’ve been told any chemo I have, if this one doesn’t work, is likely to prolong my life by a month or so at most. The cancer is killing me. It’s only a question of time before it succeeds.

 

My conclusion is as long as I’m feeling as well as I am, I might as well keep trying the various forms. I’m just not doing so with great anticipation of success. You never know, something might just work. And it’s not as though I can fulfil any bucket list with the coronavirus around. I see no attraction of being stuck in a hotel room for the duration, all attractions closed, not allowed out half the time, certainly not without a face mask.

 

I was also offered stronger painkillers, far stronger than the likes of tramadol, which are only prescribed for people on palliative care for problems such as cancer. I concluded I didn’t need them at the moment. I’m used to living with severe chronic pain. I’ve done so now for well over 30 years. However, it is nice to know who to contact when things get worse as they almost inevitably will.

 

I was also offered a palliative nurse to visit to discuss my problems with me. However, as far as I’m concerned, as I’m already disabled, I’ve already sorted out practical issues such as benefits & aids. As for my mental health, I’ve not been told anything I wasn’t expecting. I’m reasonably calm & accepting of that fact. I’m not particularly afraid of death. It comes to us all some time. It just sounds as though it’s coming sooner than I’d hoped & with warning.

 

The person I’m far more worried about is the Fox. He drove back from the hospital wiping the tears from his eyes as he did. He’s itching more than ever as the eczema gets worse with stress.  His left leg, which has tended to go dead at times of stress – a legacy of his stroke several years ago – seems to becoming almost permanently dead, making standing & walking difficult. His hands are shaking badly, another remnant of the stroke.He’s lost his appetite. All he had for lunch yesterday was maybe a dozen fried scampi, half a dozen chips & a similar amount of peas. Later on he had maybe a quarter of a tin of baked beans on half a slice of toast. That’s not enough to keep a grown man healthy. 

 

I’m not sure what to do to help. I’ve suggested counselling with CancerCare or talking to the GP, but he’s not happy about either idea. Maybe he, too, just needs time to come to terms with increasing probability of my perhaps more imminent death. (Personally I don’t think it’s going to be that imminent yet. I feel too alive at the moment to cave in that quickly to the cancer. I intend to enjoy many more evenings with the Fox, chuntering, playing some jazz or French chansons, enjoying a nice drink, together. I also hope to see a lot more of friends & family before I call it a day.)