18 radiotherapy treatments gone, and another 12 to go; one group of 5 with three days off, then a group of 4 with 2 days off, and then a final group of 3. I have a Tupperware box of medications to help me through because apart from other side-effects the nausea has been unremitting. However, today I’ve had a bit of a reprieve and managed to eat a roast lamb dinner and three crumpets with low fat cheese. Result! I feel like doing a little dance, and I still have 2 sick pills in hand. How cool is that? Whether the dancing about will make me feel sick again I don’t know, so I’d better stay sitting down.
One thing this treatment has taught me is that if you do not have good health then everything else pales into insignificance. I sit waiting for my treatment every evening with a roomful of people battling all types of cancer. Some are having the double whammy of chemotherapy at the same time. I am the only one there who has any hair, and I’m grateful for having lost only the hair right at the back of my neck. When the wind blows I get a cold draught at the back of my head, but at least I’m not bald and so I have to be thankful for small mercies.
Another thing I’ve come to realise is the abject terror has disappeared that I felt at the start of the treatment at the thought of having to lie immobilised in the CT scanner tube underneath a mask which stops even my lips from moving. If you do something often enough, even something that you’re terrified of, then you will get used to it in the end. I lie there supine and calm and listen to one of my favourite CD’s for the 15 minutes of treatment, and I’m sure my blood pressure has improved since the start of treatment a month ago!
It all points to that little sign above the reception desk by Addenbrooke’s main door – ‘It will pass, whatever it is’. It’s my thyroid cancer that needs to pass, and this treatment had better pass as well, otherwise none of my clothes will fit. But it was a lovely roast lamb dinner today, and I managed to stay awake to cook the whole thing myself. I’ve written a blog and there’s still 2 sick pills in the Tupperware box. It’s been a good day.
See you soon, love Stevie. x
jenanita01 said:
Your strength and courage shine like a beacon, Stevie. I know how difficult a time this is, for all kinds of reasons… and you are managing it better than I did!
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Stevie Turner said:
Strangely enough I have less pain in my throat 5 weeks into treatment than at the beginning. I’m on no painkillers, but the nausea can be bad sometimes. Thank goodness I’m over half way through now.
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jenanita01 said:
On the home straight and less pain, I have the feeling this time will work the oracle!
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Stevie Turner said:
Let’s hope!
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jenanita01 said:
from my mouth to God’s ears, as they say!
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dgkaye said:
You’re such a trooper Stevie. I’m happy you’re soldiering on and cooking lamb! It will soon be over and you’ll kick that beast to the can. 🙂
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Stevie Turner said:
Another 10 to go after today’s one.
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dgkaye said:
It’s almost over Stevie! 🙂
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Darlene said:
Attitude is everything, Stevie, and yours is amamzing. My dad always said no matter what happens, it could be worse! So pleased you had a good day.
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Stevie Turner said:
There’s many worse off than me. I’ve only got to sit in the radiotherapy waiting room for a while to realise I’ve not got it as bad as some.
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Tigerman said:
My thoughts are with you, with my wishing you success with your treatment. Although I know this treatment can be tough, by being positive it will help you get through this difficult time.
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Stevie Turner said:
Yes it’s tough. You learn to endure and be thankful for the good days when you can actually eat something!
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