Visited the Breast Unit on Monday. They were trying to give me a date for the op, but didn’t know when which plastic people were going on holiday. They think sometime during the first two weeks of August. They assured me that they only have experienced doctors in their department, even in August. Mr Farouhi, the surgeon, is very softly spoken. He was glad that chemo was going well. When I mentioned my Healer he didn’t say anything, just shook my hand and left.
Saw Ferdinandos on Thursday. He asked how the chemo was going. ‘Well, I had no symptoms at all with the last lot, but then I had been to a Spiritual Healer,’ I said. I do like to tease them.
He did not answer. He let it go. Obviously they both think it’s best not to encourage one.
Had my last chemo yesterday. My sister came with me. The woman next to me, Linda, had a great head scarf. It had words in varying sizes all over it: Bravery, Courage, Strength. I told her it was a great scarf. She said ‘Well, it’s good that it says what I’ve got.’ She was having Docetaxyl and Herceptin. She has to phone the pharmacy when she is on her way, as the Herceptin is so expensive (like £700 a pop) that they don’t want to be making it up if it’s to be wasted due to people not turning up. I told her about the Cancer Centre.
We had to wait for an hour and a half for the drugs to arrive from the pharmacy. The nurses were really on the ball this time. They slowed down the drip several times as my wrist and arm got painfully cold. They always say ‘It’s a darn shame we don’t have heat pads for your wrist but the microwave doesn’t work.’
I have been six times at three weekly intervals. You would think that somebody would have gone and bought a new microwave by now. Maybe it is not detailed in anybody’s job description. I should have twigged earlier and taken those heat pads that you crack to get heat.
By the time four hours were up I had had enough. Cried with relief on my way out. Had to hold my sister’s hand. She drove me home and made soup. We went to gin. Will never never miss gin, and last chemo is worth celebrating. (Only had one little gin promise.)
Threw up in the night. Had to get up and let Huggi out three times as Fred refused. (Huggi gets a dodgy tummy if he manages to steal any food that is not his special dog food.)
Husband’s level of cancer patient support has dwindled massively. It’s not like he has to get up for work in the morning. He did agree surprisingly willingly to go down to the cashpoint to put twenty quid on Chloe’s phone as she is in Greece and we want to be able to phone her. My sister said ‘Aah, you see, he does help out sometimes.’
I said, ‘Yes, it’s probably because on the way up the hill he will go into the pub to play Space Invaders for a couple of hours.’
She was saddened by my cynicism, but it turned out that I was right. It’s just as well Fred is going off to Greece again with Tabby, Alfie and Bashi. Maybe he will feel refreshed after that and won’t need the escapism of video games.
On my third midnight trip to the garden with the Dog and Vom Bucket (sounds like a dodgy fenland pub I once knew) I blew out the candles that Fred and Alfie had left flickering outside in the loggia. Honestly, they will burn the house down, the fools.
I washed off all the vom and cleaned my teeth. I got back into bed muttering darkly ‘I will put you in the blog. I will tell it as it is.’
I need to see Dennis. I only have to think of Dennis and I feel better. I only have to picture the Cancer Centre and I feel calmed. I have an appointment on Tuesday. Thank God and thank the angels.
Something else really really fabbily good: I have hair growing in! (on my head!) I have got FUZZ. Hot fuzz. Even Fred thinks this is Dennis’ doing. I showed everyone at gin. They exclaimed in delight. Also, it’s not even that grey. It’s pretty dark. Claire’s is really getting long now. She has even had it cut.
News Flash: We have our gin club outing today: junk shops and charity shops in Saffron Walden. He he, maybe I can aim to replace all the stuff my friends made me throw away. Life with only one whisk has been depressingly minimalist.