Look
Good Feel Better
Last week I had the chance to go to this
great workshop at the Royal Adelaide Hospital. It’s a chance to meet fellow
cancer patients and be taken through a make–up makeover by volunteers with
years of cosmetic industry experience. The products were donated from every
cosmetic house imaginable (from Dior to Maybelline) and we got to keep
everything selected for us. A wig expert came in and we got to try on some
different styles.
It was a giggle and I even exchanged a
number of another lady who was really scared about starting AC chemo. If you
know anyone with any type of cancer, try to encourage them to attend one of
these days. Great fun.
Oncologist,
Chemo No. 4 and antibiotics
My oncologist told me again that my next
chemotherapy depends on the results of my liver scan on Feb 19. If nothing has
changed in my liver, the ‘spots’ aren’t cancer and we proceed with weekly chemo
(paclitaxel) as planned. If the spots have shrunk, they were metastasized breast
cancer and we will need a different tack. This could be chemo in tablet form or
two more AC chemos (urgh!).
She changed my antibiotics as they were
causing me terrible heartburn and I went on to my chemo infusion.
This ol’ No. 4 hasn’t been my friend. Quite like No. 1, I
have felt really unwell, shaky, nauseous, dizzy and wobbly on my feet. As I
write, it is the end of day 6 and I thankfully feel a little better. I
looked up the side-effects of the antibiotics I have been put onto and there
they were; nausea, dizziness etc. I can’t win.
Petrol
Station
I live in a relatively small community and
it is rare to be at the local shops and not come across someone I know. I had
to go to the city on Saturday morning. I felt so unwell but I’m more stubborn
than sensible and went anyway. I was on my way home and needed to stop for
petrol at the local. An ex-student from many years ago saw me staggering along
to pay and wound down her window. It was all I could do not to cry as she asked
how I was. I just smiled a weak smile and said, ‘It’s not a great day today’.
She spoke lovely, kind words but I was so out of it, I barely responded. I
smiled, paid and got home to bed as quickly and safely as I could.
Later that afternoon, she phoned to check
on me. Then I really did cry. Her kindness was so beautiful.
There is a quandary with this disease. The
treatment is horrible and there really are days when I wonder if there’s going
to be an end to the ‘unwellness’. It’s debilitating and really sad. In the long
hours in the middle of the night, I even think about what people will remember
me for. There are many other days, closer
to the next dose, when I feel quite fine. The other thing is that one dose can
feel okay, the next hits me for six. There is no way to predict how well or
unwell I may feel.
I am learning to be real and accept help
but it doesn’t come easily to me.
I must be patient, stay in the moment,
enjoy the space and take one step at a time.
Much Love
Kristina
