In case you were worried when reading my previous blog entry which must have seemed like it was written by the mad woman of the west, I haven't actually bled to death yet, even though I was sure I would have done by now. Slowly but surely, I'm getting my head around the whole Portacath issue, and I'm in a much better place than I was.
I'm exhausted after an extremely busy day, but very good day - I've hardly had time to draw breath since I got up. Some very encouraging developments concerning Toby have brightened my mood considerably today, as did a long, interesting and very informative consultation with my Medical Oncologist Consultant, the first time we met.
I really don't know how the hospital manage it - they find these really clever people, absolute leaders in their fields, and you would imagine that they would be so up themselves and arrogantly distant, and yet they are so not. This chap was Mr Calmly Reassuring, but he combined these skills with such warmth, empathy and compassion, as well as a generous dose of humour, that I came out feeling so positive all over again.
He listened, he explained in language that I can understand, he printed off reams of documents for me to read, and he gave me 2 whole hours of his time. I now know that I'm going to have 6 batches of chemotherapy, starting probably on the 4th of September, each given 3 weeks apart. The cocktail of chemo I'm getting is called FEC-T. the FEC part is given during the first 3 sessions, and the T part is given for the last 3. I need a heart scan before it can start, I will also need anti-sickness drugs and steroids too, so I will blow up like a balloon, but, hey, so what if it blasts the cancer cells to smitereens.
I will also have a drug called Herceptin, again dripping slowing into my bloodstream through the Portacath, and I was somewhat shocked to take on board that I'll need to have this done every three weeks for a whole year. I'm also taking part in a clinical trial, so there may be an extra pharmaceutical weapon given at the same time, or a placebo instead - only half the people accepted onto the trial get to have the good stuff too.
Then, once the chemo has finished, I'll have radiotherapy but don't know the details of that just yet. Then it will be 5 years of taking a drug similar to Tamoxifen but apparently better, which blocks Oestrogen production, which is one of the 3 factors that my particular cancer feeds on.
Mr Calmly Reassuring also, after a lot of me reassuring him that yes, I really did want to know, put my details into a software programme that calculates my true survival rate. If I just opted for the surgery I have already had coupled with Radiotherapy, I would only have a 40% chance of being alive in 10 years time. If I also have Chemo and the Oestrogen blocking drug, this increases to a very encouraging 70%. There are no figures yet for factoring in Herceptin because it hasn't been used for long enough to have 10 year survival rates, but it is likely to up the odds a bit too.
This evening, we celebrated my Aunt's 85 birthday (the amazing cancer survivor who was told she had at best 6 months to live in 1983), with her two daughters, my dad, my daughter, WM, Toby and my friend, Anita. My Aunt bought over a lovely letter from one of the nuns in the Abbey near where she lives, who assured her they are all praying for me. It was very moving, and also deeply reassuring. What with Mr Lovely's surgery and Portacath, Mr Calmly Reassuring's intravenous cocktails, and a whole Abbeyful of nuns praying for my speedy recovery, I think my own particular survival statistics must be pretty damn close to the best you can get.
Tomorrow WM and I are heading off towards the West Country for a two day mini-break at a centre specialising in complementary therapies for cancer patients, where I will be learning all about all sorts of things I can do to further boost my survival chances. It's probably far more up WM's street than mine, but I am so looking forward to just getting away and maybe having a day or two to get some head space to thy and make sense of the last few weeks.
I'll definitely volunteer for some fun and laughter! What a rollercoaster ride!!! At least there are some good days along with the bad ones, and I'm so happy that you have such lovely doctors - it's so important! Lots and lots of love to you xx
ReplyDeleteThis is a great blog title and post! I utilized it as part of my Pink Vehicle campaign for October and Breast Cancer Awareness. There are many places that I am posting; the main being http://bowermedia.com/2012/10/a-month-of-pink/
ReplyDeleteThere are many facebook pages that I am posting to including www.facebook.com/imnotjustagirl1
I wish you the best of luck, and thank you for sharing your story!
Charlene Bower
Hi Charlene, Thank you so much for your very kind words and for increasing the readership of this blog - today, 4 times the number of people read it than average, mostly Stateside, and that's all down to you. But mostly, thank you for all you are doing to support and encourage those of us dealing with this wretched disease. I have PM'd you on the above FB page too. Take care, Yvonne x
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