Saturday, November 5, 2022

Recovery – end of week 4

It is amazing to think that almost 4 weeks have passed since treatment finished. It is also amazing how quickly that time can pass doing absolutely nothing! Weekends are starting to bring the same feeling that I had during treatment, when the lack of structure made me feel restless, but with the festive season fast approaching, I have decided to embrace the inertia for the next few weeks and enjoy my daily quality time with the sofa, as I am acutely aware this inactivity won’t last long.

I managed to leave the house for something other than a dog walk this week, which was another first as I am mostly existing as a hermit these days (see above)! I arranged to meet a friend for breakfast. For most people, this sounds easy, but the prospect of attempting something like a bacon sandwich on chewy sourdough in a public place was somewhat overwhelming, especially as I haven’t ventured out recently. I am very conscious that it sounds bizarre, as I have always been a confident person, but having been out of action for the best part of 18 months through illnesses, which started right after 2 years of Covid lockdowns, I now feel strangely apprehensive about going out, in part I suspect because I have absolutely nothing to say to someone I haven't seen for a while! Well, nothing positive anyway, which I hope will start to change over the coming months/years.

We opted for Côte, as I had spotted French Toast on the menu and thought this should be relatively easy to consume. I can confirm it was and, due to it being sweet, I could also taste some of it. The crème fraiche was coffee flavoured which is another taste I can detect, and combined with maple syrup it was a delicious breakfast. I even managed the bacon - not the nicest due to the texture/lack of flavour, but I'm told I have to keep pushing myself to eat different flavours to encourage my taste buds to make a reappearance.


I had a call with my oncologist yesterday morning. We didn’t meet in person as it would have meant the 2.5 hour round trip in the car, just for a chat, so a phone call made more sense. She was very pleased with my progress; she feels that everything I am experiencing at the moment it’s perfectly normal, and that it is now just a matter of time and patience to heal fully. She is now referring my care back to my original consultant but, of course, if I have any issues I can still get back in touch with her at any time. This whole experience has demonstrated to me the boundaries within which doctors operate. My surgeon’s job was to cut out the cancer. My oncologist’s job was to radiate the surrounding cells. Their aim is to get rid of the cancer, help you manage the pain and ensure you are physically well. No one asks how you are emotionally. Picking up the emotional pieces after cancer is very much left to the patient, and although there is a significant amount of support available from charities such as Macmillan, Maggie’s and Penny Brohn, unless you live near to these centres it means more lengthy commuting which I am not keen on at this point. My oncologist is also arranging for me to have an MRI scan in January – oh joy! Back to the Tunnel of Doom! - and they will check the palpable neck node at that time too. I have decided to hold off having any spa treatments (massages or facials) until after that scan until I know for certain, so sadly my spa time is on hold a little longer.

The fatigue is still very strong, although I think starting to ease very gradually. I am struggling to get to sleep at night though, so it is hard to tell what is radiation fatigue and what is just plain tiredness from lack of sleep (I'm not daytime napping any longer either). I looked up why radiation makes you feel so exhausted. It is apparently to do with the fact that it destroys so many healthy cells in the process of killing the cancer that your body then has to work overtime to repair and renew all of those cells. For example, my taste buds have been destroyed, so every day my body is trying very hard to repair those cells so I will be able to taste again. Yet another example of how utterly amazing the human body is.

For the first time since treatment, I listened to music on my dog walk yesterday. As you know, I listened to music every day during treatment. It was my saviour during the long car journeys; it helped me to focus on positive thoughts while wearing the mask; it soothed me when I felt at my lowest point. During the last few weeks of treatment, I used to play classical music in the car on the way home and it always sent me to sleep, but what stands out in my memory from that time is the darker part of the classical music, when the music feels heavy and threatening. So since treatment finished, I have been too afraid to listen to any music. None at all. I have done every dog walk in silence because I have not wanted to remind myself of those darker times. It felt too suffocating. Yesterday, however, the sun was shining, the cloudless sky was a glorious shade of blue and for the first time I felt some classical music would enhance my walk, so I decided to try it. I’m pleased to say it buoyed me up further and put me in a positive frame of mind for the rest of the day. I am pleased I tried it, as I had been worried that I may never enjoy music again!

My taste is now at around 30%, perhaps slightly more for sweet things (see previous post re cake!). Food is purely functional and I know I need to continue to eat in order to recover but there is very little enjoyment. I am hungry, but since nothing tastes as it should, my appetite seems to evaporate when I am faced with eating. Ready meals are still my go-to for dinner, because the thought of actually cooking something fills me with horror. If I am able to eat the family meal then I will try that, but if it is meat then I just pop my (veggie) ready meal in the microwave instead. The burning throat seems to be much better now and I can eat with just ibuprofen and paracetamol, rather than needing opiates, which is great progress. The blister is still very much present, but it no longer has the agonising sting that it did have, so I am hoping it will take a leaf out of the burning throat's book and vacate the premises.

The mucus appears to have taken on a life of its own over the past few days, however, and rather than starting to reduce, which is what I would expect at this stage, instead it seems to congregate in my throat at inopportune moments. This means I now need to carry tissues and apologise if I am mid-conversation with someone! It was custard week on Bake Off last week, and I think I would have blended in quite nicely with my inadvertent productions! Sorry, probably too much information! But important to note it in case anyone reading this is currently going through treatment too. Despite being unpleasant, it is infinitely preferable to pain so I can't complain too much. All in all, as I move into week 5 next week (week 11 since treatment started), I am happy to report that I things are definitely moving in the right direction. 

No comments:

Post a Comment

One Year NED

Who is NED I hear you ask? When you’ve had cancer, NED is very much your friend. Or least, everyone wants to be NED. No, NED isn’t the popul...