Getting to know the new me.
As part of my new drug regime, I was to inject myself daily with an immune boosting serum, G-CSF. This would increase certain types of blood cells produced in my bone marrow to help fight any infections I come into contact with during chemo. I remember after I had Jessica, I had to have a daily injection to prevent blood clotting. I was too squeamish to do this myself so enlisted the help of Bev, my brave friend, (or maybe she was just a woman with a grudge?) Anyway she would turn up, demand tea and then gleefully stab me. When I was informed I was going to have to self inject, I thought of calling Blood-Thirsty-Bev, but stoopid COVID put pay to that. So I had to woman up. I am supposed to do this at the same time each day for 5 days after chemo. I set my phone alarm to go off at 6pm. My first attempt was a painful & bloody experience. I dreaded 6pm every day. But I taught myself a little trick. If I held an ice cube against my skin for a few seconds the skin would be numbed enough that I would not feel the needle go in. No pain and no blood either! The only other alarming thing about this exercise was my 6yo daughters fascination. She loved to watch! I hated seeing needles go in. Her, well I had to ask her to back up so I could see what I was doing. Freak.
Finally 5 days were up and on the 6th I settled onto the sofa to watch TV. As the evening wore on so pain in my backside and spine began to increase. Initially I thought it was my existing back injury metaphorically sticking its hand in the air ‘Please Miss! Don’t forget me!’ But the pain continued to build to a crescendo. By the time I crawled to bed and lay on the mattress, it was like I was laying on a concrete slab. Steve was reading as I tried to get comfy. Finally I said in a pitiful voice, ‘Steve, do you remember the oncologist saying anything about bone pain?’ The amount of stuff thrown at you from the moment you are diagnosed , means that most of it is just white noise. Steve said ‘I think it’s the injection stuff Gill. Let me get you some heat pads’. Steve keeps a stock of these strange stick on heat pads that you stick to an injured area and they generate their own deep tissue heat. I had so many areas of pain that by the time he’d fixed them to me I looked like a bloody armadillo. I downed 4 paracetamol and thankfully passed out. The next day I contacted the hospital to ask them about the pain. The pain I am feeling is my bone marrow making the excess blood cells to fight infections. 🤢 Really looking forward to this for the next 6 months 🤥
Being told you are on chemo, induces a certain amount of expectation. I expected to feel unwell, look crap and things to drop off. Sure shit dropped off 🙄 but I kind of felt alright? When people asked ‘how are you?’ I almost felt like I should lie! But other than a slight nauseous feeling, I was back on form. Walking the dog, shopping, chasing the kids and cleaning the house. I am a driving instructor in my ‘real life’ but this has obviously been on hold for some time. So I had to make a decision as to whether I would return to work after lock down lifts or not. The thought of cancer being my only ‘thing’ was so claustrophobic that there really wasn’t a choice. But I knew I would not be able to cope with the amount of customers I had on my books pre lock down. I decided to release the customers that were on a longer journey and whose test I might jeopardise with surgery dates etc. Then I called my customers I wanted to keep to inform them of my diagnosis and give them the opportunity of looking for another instructor if they so wished. Of course, all of them being bloody marvellous humans, said they wanted to stay with me. So to ease the tension, I said that we had to avoid emergency stops as this could dislodge the wig and in a worst case scenario may cause other road users to think we had hit a cat. I think it’s safe to say they won’t be starting training with any apprehensions!
The hospital rung to tell me the results for the 19 biopsies were not back yet. Probably caused a backlog in the bloody lab! I’m now waiting for those next week. You have gotta love the cancer waiting room. Grab a magazine and seat, you’ll be here a while.
Soon the second round of chemo loomed. This fell on Easter Monday. Fucking Yay! Under threat of violence I took an Uber to the hospital this time. My appt was 9:30am and when I arrived the ward was empty. I was told to pick my chair. I chose the window seat. The view over London’s St. Barts was distorted by flurries of springtime snow. This brought much excitement to the ward with the nurses (mainly from the Philippines) all rushing to the windows cooing loudly. Then the flurries were gone and so were the nurses, melted back into the monotony of beeping machines and cannulas. 2.5hours later and I was freed into the wild. I raced out of the hospital calling the Uber before I left the lift and stepping into the back of the sleek Mercedes van before the revolving door had slowed! When I got home it was a bright sun shining day. The fug of chocolate eggs hung heavy over the kids and the dog! I suggested a walk to MacDonalds for lunch and was nearly stampeded. The walk there was full of chatter and games of ‘I Spy’ then as the return walk began I noticed my legs grow heavy, my mind sluggish and my eyelids drooping. I needed to lie down pronto. As soon as we got in I fell on the sofa and drifted off into an exhausted sleep. When I woke up I was confused to see my dog lying there in pink ankle socks, multi-coloured knickers and a green sequinned skirt. Was this yet another side effect, hallucinations? No it was a bored 6yo at work. God bless that dog, as he sat there looking rather comfortable in his Easter get up!
The week rolled on, I knew the side effects were gonna get me, like the scary movies I love. I could hear the dark music intensifying as the week wore on and eventually on Thursday I felt it’s cold breath on the back of my neck. I went from being fine, to being sick in a flick of a switch. A strange misty headache descended lowering my eyelids over what was 1 second before alert eyes. I became instantly exhausted, every muscle screaming for my bed. Heat surged through my body as my immune system went into overdrive. I was aware of my family around me but I can’t remember anything of what was happening. Then on Saturday morning I woke up, Gill again. The ironing awaited, the house waited patiently for me to get over myself and then said ‘clean me!’ Cancer doesn’t stop shit happening. Shit happens with or without cancer!
