Today was the hectic first day of what will probably turn out to be a busy week. Two appointments at the specialist chemo unit, one was for a kidney function test, which I need to pass if I am to go onto the cisplatin part of ECF. The second appointment was a pre-chemo meeting to go over the drug regimen, let me know what the effects and side-effects were likely to be, and to advise me on what to look out for. For example, I’ll be particularly susceptible to infection at some points in the cycle, and any coughs, colds, sore throats, etc., or a temperature more than 38C are reasons to call the specialist team urgently. Worrying! There’s a lot to take in, but Gillian was with me taking notes, and we were given a huge pile of pamphlets too.
It was a huge help having Gillian there, as I seemed to have fallen through the cracks. After waiting an hour beyond the appointment time, Gillian went in search of someone who would help. Andrea was that soeone, and as she swung into action things started to happen. It turned out that my appointment had been made with someone who was on leave all that week. Never mind, there are procedures, and the first alternative ought to have picked it up, but she was sick. The second alternative was busy, so Andrea, with some robust backing from the oncologist, found a fourth person, Ian, who did a sterling job at the last minute. Nevertheless, it was a long and tiring day, and I needed a longer than normal nap this afternoon.
Tomorrow I have an early morning appointment to have an endoscopy which I hope will cure the obstructive jaundice, which I believe has been responsible for me feeling tired and nauseous, so I will be very glad to see the back of it, no matter how much I dislike endoscopies. (He opines from the great height of his vast experience of … one endoscopy!)
On Wednesday I meet the oncologist again. I’m not yet sure what this will be for. I’m hoping that we’re getting close to the insertion of the PICC line, but I don’t think that will take place then, so a fifth appointment this week looks likely.
I think we’re still hoping to start the chemotherapy proper on Friday, which will involve an overnight stay at the specialist centre.
Things seem to be moving. I get the strong impression that Christmas and New Year is just about the worst time to try to get a complicated new treatment started. There are wheels within wheels to get moving, and even in these days of electronic communications, information doesn’t move quite as freely and easily as you might imagine. But there is a huge amount of goodwill and effort by people working extremely hard under difficult circumstances, and for that I am more grateful than I can possibly say.
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Hello, my name is Laura. I found you on Twitter, doing a search for #cancer. Today I discovered my grandfather has cancer in his stomach, esophagus, lungs and liver. He will be doing chemotherapy once a week for the next six months. He is expected to live 12-36 months at best.
I suppose I’m just reaching out to others affected by cancer. I will be following your blog and I sincerely hope for you.
Laura, how awful for you and your family! I hope the chemotherapy does everything possible for your Grandfather, and that his remaining time with you is as happy, comfortable, and long as possible. You and your Grandfather will be in my thoughts.
I get the strong impression that Christmas and New Year is just about the worst time to try to get a complicated new treatment started.
Oh yup. Trying to get anything useful to happen in a hospital over a weekend, let alone a holiday, is just about useless.
Good luck! We’re all cheering for you. 🙂
-ceastman at librivox
Thank you for the cheers. They do help. And LV is such a great bunch of people, that I value your cheers very highly indeed.
Chris, Mike sent me the link to your blog. So sorry to hear the news 🙁 but thank you for sharing all the info. Thinking of you and lots of love to both you and Gillian.
Thank you, Bryony. Glad you found the information interesting.
Hi Chris
I’ve just heard – my thoughts and prayers are with you.
My Mum got diagnosed with Aesophagal cancer around October last year, and has been undergoing radiotherapy, so I fully understand the benefit of anti-emetics and so on. On the upside, she’s responding to the treatment, and I hope and pray you’ll also surprise yourself with your own progress.
All the best mate – I just wish there was more I could do.
Al
How unlucky for you and your mother! I hope the treatment continues to do well for her. It sounds as though she was diagnosed at a slightly earlier stage than I was, so she has a better expectation from the treatment. I’ll be thinking of both of you, and shall hope that my case goes as well as hers.