Keep breathing slowly


Tomorrow I’m back in chemo camp. Not, I hasten to add, for more chemo ( I’ve done that and won’t be doing it again).  Tomorrow I’m back to attempt more herceptin following a break of almost 5 weeks because my body retained so much fluid, especially in my joints, that I couldn’t use my hands or walk for more than a few yards.  Dr C has already told me there are no guarantees, pushing ahead with the herceptin could make the joints much worse and he doesn’t know if or when it will resolve. Decisions, decisions. If I’m going to die before for my three score years and ten, and the possibility is real, then I may as well get my money’s worth and have the experience of rheumatism even though rheumatic colicky joint pain is not the problem.

Today has been stressful which goes some way towards my ‘you know what, I’m not bothered any more’ attitude. Totally unnecessary issues came up but they were stressful all the same so much so that I’ve  barely had time to think about tomorrow.  It’s a story for another post or maybe a whole series of books if I get the time.

By now I should be getting slightly twitchy about tomorrow. Instead I’m feeling like the photo of Kingswear in this post – lots going on but the water looks pretty still. The vein issue will no doubt rear its ugly head and three of the four nurses avoid the job of sticking a cannula into me because its so difficult for them (and me.)  The herceptin holiday means we also have to go back through the loading dose procedure because herceptin looks more meek and mild than chemo but in reality it’s quite a tough little cocktail and is known to cause severe allergic reactions. The range of allergic reactions includes death.

Maybe when you’ve been through this stuff for months on end your attitude changes. A year ago I definitely wouldn’t have been blase about any drug that came with hazard warnings, the need for an oncologist to be present in the department and an all day stay in hospital. Now I don’t see the point in worrying about it. Some day the reaper will come for me and that’s that. It would be better if it wasn’t tomorrow because I haven’t got all my affairs in order and chemobrain means that will take some effort; there are also a lot of folks I’d like the chance to say goodbye to. However this whole thing has shown me that although death is final,  it is not the worst thing I’ve had to face in my life.