Why us? Round 2...

June 19th 2017

Round two of chemo was on 19th June. I remember taking the above photo in the car as Fergus drove us in. We sat in traffic and neither of us felt very much like smiling, but we did, even if it was just for the photo!

As we slowly inched along with the rest of the cars, I remember thinking about the countless mornings before when I had sat in this very same traffic, rushing in for work. My mind would have been preoccupied with things I needed to do, results to be followed up on, bad news to be broken, reports to be written etc. I would have been marching along to the same beat as the people in the cars in front, beside and behind, all anticipating the long busy day ahead... especially on Mondays such as this morning was. I'm sure there were a lot of people around us sitting in their cars feeling like that this morning. But this time, I wanted to open the car window and scream at everyone that I wasn't going to work... I was going for chemo. I had cancer. I felt cheated. I felt upset that my mind didn't need to worry about other people's problems today. I felt angry that I wasn't actually angry with the slow moving traffic this very morning!

I remember someone on a motorbike zooming up the bus lane passing us out. That could have been me on my morning commute.... that should have been me!

I turned to Fergus, and, in an infrequent moment of self pity, I asked him, "Why us?"
There were tears in both our eyes as he reached out for my hand and replied gently, "why not us?"

I wish I could say that this was the last time I asked that question, but it's not. I believe the majority of us are subconsciously of the attitude, "sur it'll never happen to me". I know I was. But the truth is, none of us are invincible. Life is extremely fragile and precious. Be gentle and kind with each person you meet as you never know what pain someone may be carrying. A smile can hide a thousand tears.

Thankfully, once we checked into the oncology day ward this morning, we didn't have the delay of waiting for my bloods. This is because of some truly amazing friends - fellow GP Marie-Therese Glynn, her phlebotomist mum Mary-Rose and the top man in the lab in UHG Tommie Mellet! Tommie gave us the "all clear" for them to take my bloods from the comfort of my own home on the Sunday night. One of them would then drop them into the lab, and my results would be there on file for first thing the next morning. It really was a blessing and shortened our hospital stay by up to 2 hours each day.

Another thing that struck me today was that I was no longer the "newbie". In fact, I was able to pick out the new patients today! Many of the faces I saw this morning were the same ones from three weeks ago and I was now greeted by smiles and easy small talk. Someone once gently advised me to be cautious about making friends in the oncology unit. I know they meant well, obviously being concerned about how I would cope if/when somebody that I had befriended became unwell or died. But this seemed ridiculous to me today. It makes for a much easier journey for all of us when we can open up a little to each other and even become friends. Yes, it hurt seeing the suffering and as the weeks went on, it also hurt losing these people I had come to see as friends. But I can honestly say that knowing them, and having them as friends, enriched my life and eased my journey a lot. I hope I helped to ease theirs.

A kiss from my rock as the infusion got started. 

Once I got settled into my comfortable chair and they had set up an i.v. line, I explained to Chrissie, my oncology nurse, how nauseated I had been feeling since the first chemo session. The nausea came on around two days after the infusions and lasted for about a week or so. They had given me anti-sickness tablets but they didn't work particularly well for me. Like I said earlier in the blog, everyone responds differently to chemo and it can take a couple of sessions before they find the right balance of meds for each individual.

I also found the steroids caused a lot of difficulty in sleeping and I seemed to suffer a lot of anxiety as a result. It is difficult to openly admit this as I prefer to be seen as the "strong one" and to be positive and optimistic in life - and this is still valid 3 years on! I don't want to drag people down with me when I get upset and worried about the cancer and all that goes with it. But, between a combination of sleeplessness and nausea, I knew I was struggling. Thankfully, as I opened up to the nurse, she smiled gently and reassured me that I wasn't "mad" and that everything I described was very common in oncology patients - both during and after treatment.

I think it's important to mention here, as I type this blog up 3 years on from my diagnosis, that the fear and frequent sleepless nights do continue. Cancer is not like a physical wound that can be cleaned, stitched, dressed and watched heal over! It is not like a chest infection that can be treated with a course of antibiotics and hey presto - the patient is cured! On the contrary, it is like a persistent dark cloud that hangs directly overhead. Even on the sunniest of days, I know it is always there. But its shadow is only visible to those I chose to show it to.