Tuesday, 11 March 2008

emerging

Firstly, thank you for your emails and comments through what has been the most horrendous time so far. Somewhere between the constant pain, nausea, and lack of sleep, I really did begin to wonder what the hell was going to happen to me. Blogging that last entry took every last bit of strength, and afterwards I collapsed again, unable to move the laptop away. At one point I had visions of having to dictate to someone, to post for me… Lisa is unable to blog today… Like Julie Darling who died of cancer in the end. Thoughts too horrid to contemplate.

But things pass. And thankfully that awful despair, and feelings of loss of control, have passed.

Julie came over yesterday morning and quite literally dragged me back from the brink. She rang the hospital and arranged a meeting with the cancer nurse, and then took me up there for some answers. Basically the tumour hasn't shrunk, but then it hasn't grown either. Or spread. So while half of me feels that all this horrid chemo has been a waste of time, the other half says, well, we're no worse off than we were before.

A new plan of action is needed.

We got the pain relief sorted out, so that is one thing. I knew the tumour hadn't shrunk because I'm still in so much pain. Now I have morphine so I can get through the night, and that has made a huge difference. I haven't even taken it yet, but just having it there seemed to do the trick!

I have an awful feeling that I need to make some huge decisions about my life before I'm going to get better. I've been having some pretty weird dreams in which I’m trying to climb up vertical roads, hills, and in one, a lecture theatre?! I’m pleased to say that I have, in every instance so far, made it over whatever obstacles have been in the way, but it’s taken the entire night usually.

So. What next. The oncologist tomorrow and a new plan of action. Try to keep going. A swim perhaps before Friday, and maybe even a riding lesson (okay, so might need a bit of a miracle there but who knows…).

P.S.

I am hoping that in all of this I will become a better person, and find something useful to do with the rest of my life, but I don’t mind telling you, my sense of humour is being severely tested here, and if any of those gods I don’t believe in are reading this, I could really use a bit of help right now! Half an hour without retching would be a good place to start.

8 comments:

NoviceNovelist said...

Really glad to read that you have the pain control sorted out - that is a really positive step for you. Best wishes for the oncology meeting and maybe once you have a new plan of action you will access some untapped strength to top you up on this journey.

Zinnia Cyclamen said...

Morphine is great! I've only had it once, in hospital, but I remember how wonderful it was! If you can get some relief from that awful pain, and some proper rest in the process, I'm sure that will help. It is good news that the tumour hasn't grown or spread. You've probably already thought of this, but I'd recommend writing a list of questions you want answers to for the meeting with the oncologist, and taking someone with you if you can, partly for moral support and partly to help you remember the answers. Very best of luck.

JJ said...

My Dad (a retired doctor) always said that 'if a patient doesn't ask, they don't want to know.' Now that might be way out of date, but I do think that persevering with the questions is the only way forward. A few docs don't like a patient to be too assertive, but most of them are intelligent human beings who understand that some people need to be informed. You just have to let them know you're one of them.

All the best of luck for tomorrow.

JJx

Lane said...

Your dreams are telling you something - that you're prepared to fight this the whole way.

It's great news that the bastard hasn't grown and I'm glad you've got such good support around you.

Thinking of you tomorrow and sending positive thoughts as always.xx

Pacha said...

I think the disappointment of all that positive thinking (repeating: the tumour will miracle shrink and disappear during my first cycle of chemo and I can get on with living my life without being in pain) possibly means that when we are then told otherwise we will get depressed (although it hasn't grown and spread which is wonderuful news really). That and pain. Pain and being ill is depressing. Because your mind has to give up and over to your body. But see, you refuse to give up and battle on so bravely.

In Argentina if you are sick they believe that if you chew coca leaves then spit them out and bury them in your back garden this will act as pain relief and remove the demons and badness that is lurking within.

Personally I think Morphine sounds more effective (or cannabis/marijiana - aren't those legal for cancer patients? Find out! You've got to get some kicks out of all this, surely? ;))

L-Plate Author said...

Lisa, reading about what you are going though has made me feel so humble. I've had a face on me all night because I'm pretty pissed about being skint all the time.

Time to go and sit with the Bloke from Stoke and apologise I think. Good luck tomorrow xx

Annieye said...

I hope you got some answers yesterday. I'm writing this at 3.15 am. I can't sleep because I woke up with a headache. Goodness knows how you must feel not being able to sleep for a week. Take all the medication you can get and if the morphine helps then just take it.

maresy said...

Hope all is well, thinking of you lots, don't worry if you don't feel like blogging, it will wait, although i always look forward to it! Don't forget, the tumour may not have shrank, but it did not spread, that is exceptional news!! Whatever the doc says, I(we) are all here for you, and will be your strength, love you
Marion