It’s been just over 18 months now since 1 discovered that my endometrial cancer (stage 1b initially) had metastasised in the sigmoid colon.
Certainly has been a roller coaster of a ride, but I’m feeling blessed that I’m still here to tell the tale! And what’s more, I’m actually feeling really well. A few aches and pains have been noticed - and I do find myself huffing and puffing a bit (and making a discernible ‘ooft’ sound) when I get up from a chair, or from the floor (not often all the way down there to be honest, just every now and then),,,,,,, and I’m probably not quite as quick climbing the stairs, and I rarely RUN down said stairs these days..... but hey ho...... going to be 66 in three weeks time.
SiXTY SIX! How can this be??? I used to think that SIXTY was so very old! And now I’m approaching State Pension Age - and might I add? GETTING VERY EXCITED ‘BOUT IT! I’ve been unsuccessfully practising living on less income, but the state pension will certainly help.
I suppose that, like all of us, the last two years have sort of vanished in a puff of lockdown smoke. Whereas most of the world was cursing the virus, as you know (if you’ve read my infrequent blogs) I am eternally grateful, because it caused the cancer care guidelines to be rewritten which meant that I could be treated with immunotherapy drugs instead of the toxic and scary routine treatment of kill it with poison and then blast it with radio waves.........
Enforced lockdown and shielding also caused me to retire a year before I had planned - and I’m still getting used to the fact that “it doesn’t have to be done today” and “tomorrow is another day”. Manana manana in other words.
My little puppy keeps me super busy, and has also provided the excuse for putting things off. I should have called her The Procrastinator rather than Minstrel. She’s my little shadow and comes everywhere with me (well, the Marsden won’t let her in, (she wont wear a mask 😋) so she stays home on those days!)
Last week I had another PET scan. We’re monitoring that stubborn little area on the peritoneum that is refusing to become cancer free, At the last scan in December it showed ‘slight progression’ so if last week’s scan also shows a cancer advancement, I believe my team might add radiotherapy to the mix. I’ve been assured that my consultant is an expert in “targeted radiotherapy” which rather puts me in mind, (appropriately, considering the conflict in Eastern Europe) of nuclear missile attacks. I’m seeing the team for a face to face appointment tomorrow, so I will find out then. My immunotherapy buddies on my social media group all use the term “SCANXIETY” when discussing the wait for results. I used to use this term for actually HAVING the scan. But in the grand scheme of things, having the scan is now the proverbial pice of p**s........ the machinery is so advanced now that the process only takes fifteen minutes. They let me listen to a podcast, or music, on my phone - (or The Archers on catch up , my guilty pleasure) and I quite enjoy watching the lights spin around on the scanner, and the gentle movement back and forth! How times change! I don’t mind the cannula or the injection of artificial glucose either...although I do usually query the reassuring administrator of the “sharp scratch”! Having a needle put into a vein is in no way a SHARP SCRATCH! Whoever thought that was a good idea to teach phlebotomists to say that was a liar and a cheat! It does hurt, but it’s only for a few seconds. And in the grand scheme of things, a sharp pain for a few seconds is completely tolerable. I even quite enjoy the enforced lie down for an hour before going in the scanner. If I get the room I like, the sun (if it’s my side of the clouds) beats down on me and I have a great view of the back of the hospital and the spire of ST Luke’s and Christ Church on Sydney Street (where apparently Charles Dickens was married). You have to lie still while the sugary stuff is doing its job, so knitting is out of the question. There’s a TV too, so it’s not boring.
I was always one of those people who rushed around all day. One thing that having cancer has taught me is to try not to do that! Stuff can wait for me now. I’ll take my time. I’ll take in the views. I’ll read the fact sheets. I’ll enjoy the views. I needed to remind myself of this a couple of months ago when I ran for the bus, and then ran for a tram...... there was no hurry.... and the public tumble in the street was humiliating and painful! It was one of those occasions when I found myself trying to decide if “I had a fall” or if “I fell over”........ Believe me, there’s a marked difference! And as my SPA approaches - I might just start using Old People’s terminology!
What are my plans for the future? I plan to hang in there as long as possible. Spring is just around the corner (included the picture of my magnolia in the front garden for proof), and I’m hoping that I will have the energy and oomph to tackle my garden and do some decorating. I have two bedrooms and a living room that are badly in need of a freshen up - and I’ve been putting it off because..... well.... because I could! I’m going to start looking after my grand daughter Stella one afternoon a week soon, when her mum adds more hours to her working week, so that will involve a train ride to the Surrey/Hampshire borders with Minstrel. And we’ll continue much in the same vein as we’re doing now. Walking, walking and more walking......
I always intended to do some private midwifery after retiring from the NHS, but lockdown put paid to that...... although this last couple of weeks, I have been employed in messaging two friends who were imminently expecting their respective new babes. So, I’ll finish off this wee ramble with congratulating both Faye and Hannah on the safe arrival of 2 baby boys - Alvie and Matthew (in two very different births.....)
Signing out now,
M x
(Always available at odd hours for midwifery advice)
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