Perseverance

It came as a complete shock to me when I was diagnosed with incurable metastatic cancer and low grade blood cancer. I thought surgery had cured the former 31 years ago.  My only obvious symptom had been a frustrating lack of stamina, though looking back I realise I had significantly lost my appetite as well.  A few false diagnoses were trialled before blood tests and scans proved the cause.

Then I was hospitalised with flu and grew very weak: it was as much as I could do to swallow soups and yoghurts.  When I began attending monthly Outpatient Cancer Clinics I was using a wheelchair for long hospital corridors.  I agreed to start on a medication, Ibrance, classified as chemo, that had  been recently licenced and is prescribed only by hospitals, not GPs.

A couple of months later word had got round in our suburban Close of 9 houses. A neighbour at the far end (not very far at all) invited me round for coffee. I realised with some horror that I couldn’t walk that far.  I felt nauseous, was losing weight from an even worsened lack of appetite, and was spending almost all day in bed.  I had a reputation for being stoic to a fault and it had come to this.

And not only was I ill but my husband was looking worn out. He was doing all my domestic chores, the cooking, ironing, his own gardening tasks and admin chores and trudging up and down stairs several times a day looking after me.  I imagined the situation getting even worse and resolved to stop chemo. Mine and his interests, I thought, would be better served if I went downhill quickly. There was not much quality of life to look forward to. And that was without knowing Covid 19 was on the near horizon!

Of course, writing this is a bit of a spoiler! I attended my next hospital clinic and told the consultant oncologist that I wanted to stop the chemo treatment. I was given a long hard look. She explained that there would be no going back from that decision. Treatment had to be continuous. She would not be allowed to start it again if I changed my mind. She very strongly recommended me to continue with chemo as my body might adjust well to it.  I totally understand why doctors are reluctant to make predictions but nevertheless I asked her how long I’d got.  She, of course, said she didn’t know. I said I realised that, but she had a better idea than I had.  That evinced that It depended how well my body adjusted to the chemo. It might turn toxic in 5 months.  Maybe a year or even more.

I was persuaded. That was 3 years ago and I am on my 41^st record-breaking cycle now. I am so grateful the doctor encouraged me to persevere.  Even with months of Lockdown life is good.