I wasn’t sure whether to call this week 7, as the radiation keeps cooking me so technically I am still in treatment, or week 1 post-treatment, because most doctors seem to refer to it this way. So I called it both.
After feeling quite flat yesterday, I had half expected to wake up this morning and feel a belated sense of joy; possibly even a little bit back to ‘old me’ (not in the age sense, although this whole thing is certainly making me feel very old!). Sadly, that wasn’t the case. I felt exactly the same, but more tired. How is that even possible?!
Yesterday, I was overwhelmed with messages of support. It was so lovely to have so many people wish me well now the treatment is finished. It is hard to explain that the journey is far from over. I don’t want to sound negative, and of course I am SO happy to be this far through treatment, but many people think that the end of treatment means time to start getting back to normal (this is also what I thought at the start of all of this – let’s get it over with so I can get back to my life). I am quickly realising that none of this is as simple as it sounds. My hospital team shared a paper with me today - ‘After the Treatment Finishes - Then What?’ by Dr Peter Harvey, Consultant Clinical Psychologist at Leeds Teaching Hospitals Trust. Dr Harvey examines why most people don't feel the expected elation at the end of their treatment - "You will have been looking forward to the absence of something unpleasant rather than the eager anticipation of the arrival of something pleasant." So true.
Dr Harvey believes the recovery process from cancer can be divided into three distinct phases – recuperation, convalescence (love this one, I might need to go to Brighton for a few months, sit on a deckchair wearing a headscarf and enjoying the seaside air!) and rehabilitation. He argues that each of these needs to be done properly in order to truly recover, and that trying to get back to ‘normal’ can be more of a hindrance, because “once heard, the diagnosis of cancer can never be forgotten. Whatever your prognosis, whatever your hopes, whatever your personality, the second that you know that you have cancer your life changes irrevocably.”
These words really resonated with me. He also gives the rather amusing example of a lady who, “once she had completed her treatment for her breast cancer asked for help to '.. sort out her job, her marriage and her cancer - and in that order.' After eight sessions, she had decided to change both job and husband.” I am not sure I’m looking for quite such a drastic change in my life, but the whole diagnosis really does make you want to review your life and what you want from it. Perhaps because your mortality is called into question, it makes you realise how short life really is. Sounds so cliched I know, and I probably thought the same before this happened, but this is all food for thought for me at this stage.
Here is the link to the paper in case you are interested:
I am conscious I’m sounding very melancholy today! It’s probably not helped by the fact that I recently noticed an enlarged lymph node at the base of my neck, near my collarbone. It has been there for about two weeks. When I first noticed it, I assumed it was just reacting to the radiotherapy and would go down soon (although remember I thought that about my tonsil tumour). I asked the doctor at the hospital about it last Friday. He took a look and said it was probably nothing to worry about, but suggested that I speak to my oncologist, so I have an appointment for next Friday. Back to Oxford – hoorah! I had been hoping to at least have two weeks away from that place! I am sure it’s nothing to worry about, but having been through five months of hell, complex surgery and a gruelling radiation schedule, of course I can’t help but worry.
On the plus side, the mask, the car journeys and the whole radiation process is already starting to feel like a distant memory. The sun was shining for me on my walk this morning and I’m still very grateful that I have been able to get through without a feeding tube. Morphine is now my best friend, although I’m told we will go our separate ways in two weeks or so as I wean myself off the opiates. I actually ate some vegetables today – a root vegetable gratin followed by tinned peaches and extra-creamy custard. It felt so good to be putting something good into my body rather than another shake or crème caramel! I still can’t taste anything though so it’s still not an enjoyable experience.
My nose seems to be bleeding more frequently. I forgot to take a tissue on my dog walk this morning and my nose was running the entire time, so with blood dripping down my face I must have looked quite a sight. Maybe I’ll try that again on Halloween.
The mucus also seems to be getting worse. It feels a bit like having a bad cold, except what comes out of my throat is a weird combination of phlegm, blood and very limited saliva, so that when I try to spit, the offending material just hangs from my mouth and refuses to leave without some physical help. Maybe this could be a new superpower - a bit like Spiderman, but with mucus instead of webbing? I wonder if it is strong enough to allow me to swing between buildings…
I’ll finish with a photo of all the beautiful flowers I have received - my kitchen looks amazing, full of gorgeous vibrant colour!
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