Chemo Zombie

There is no sugar coating chemotherapy treatment. It is bloody horrendous. It's the worst kind of hangover x100. I always walk into the first day of treatment fresh faced and then leave 5 hrs later a horribly sickly grey colour. I don't feel myself, I don't feel human. My brain is mush, my muscles ache, the fatigue is incredibly frustrating, my mouth is coated with a gag inducing metallic taste, I don't want to eat, I have no concentration or want to do anything, i'm easily frustrated and confused, sleep is impossible. I am a chemo zombie.

I've just finished my 4^th cycle, I thought the more treatment I have, the easier it'll be and the better i'll cope. Unfortunately, this is not the case. I'm now fully aware of what awaits me come chemo day and the anxiety and nerves kick in once i'm in the car on route to the hospital. You shouldn't wish your life away, and I certainly shouldn't be doing that, but, I want these next two cycles, these next two months to be over with. Life can then return to normal and I can continue being a crazy 20 something year old, that doesn't have to miss her best friends birthday because of chemo sickness!!!

The first week after chemo is the yuckiest and it's a constant battle to stay sane. So to try and avoid turning into that chemo zombie these are my do's and don'ts for this week.

Do sleep - sleep when you can, have a quiet space that you can take yourself away to. Rest is a big must.

Don't push yourself – I'm not a very good 'sick' person. I treat my cancer as though its the common cold and don't see it as this scary illness. So I think I can do more than I actually can. Resting frustrates me and I feel guilty for doing so, but in order to get better it is a necessity.

Do eat. Eat little amounts and eat whatever you fancy. I put pressure on myself to stick to a healthy diet and its pretty impossible. Taste buds are gone and the thought of food is gross. So grab anything that takes your fancy.

Do drink water. Drink tons of the stuff, the only way to get those toxins and dead cancer cells out of your body is to guzzle that H20.

Do get outside. I've found staying indoors only makes me feel worse. The fresh air and change of scenery does wonders.

Don't stress. Don't put any add stresses or pressures onto yourself. And if you do feel overwhelmed and stressed then listen to music, meditate, read, walk and laugh! Laugh about your unfortunate shitty situation :)

Do know that this is only temporary, know that you'll come out of this stronger, fitter and tougher. Know that this is the hardest thing you'll ever face, and face and beat it you will.

Ta-ra hair

One thing that I hate most about all of this is how the bastard is trying to take control of my life. Trying being the operative word here! From being hospitalised from the pain of it fighting back against treatment, to isolating myself from everyone because of my low immune system. I felt it was digging in its long, unfiled, dirty, nails into me and exerting its control. So I decided to take some control back, starting with a hair cut! Obviously the big thing with chemotherapy and the stand out feature of cancer is the hair loss, in the grand scheme of things not a big deal right? But the thought of my hair coming out – as dry and frizztastic as it is, would be soul destroying. And although my consultant said he doesn't think it will all fall out, I didn't want to take that chance, I didn't want to have to unclog it from the shower plug or see it on my pillow when I wake up in the morning so I went and booked myself in for an 'intensive trim'. I thought this would be tough, i'm not saying it was easy, but watching my hair fall to the floor I felt triumph, I was sticking two fingers up to the cancer and it felt great. 

The tantrum

I'd been home one night before I was rushed back into hospital. Ok, so I was expecting sickness, tiredness, you know, the standard well known chemo side effects but this horrendous pain in my abdomen was not expected. My stomach was a swollen mess, I looked heavily pregnant – but pregnant with an evil alien cancer bastard!! The next 12 hours were spent in A&E on morphine. The morphine was only able to slightly take the edge off, whatever was going on inside my tummy was not letting up. I figured the alien bastard was enraged about the chemo I attacked it with the day before and was throwing one almighty strop. The scans and blood tests (it only took two nurses this time to find a vein) proved inconclusive so it was back for a stay at my cancer ward – which is fastly becoming my second home. My consultant said he believed the pain and swelling was caused from the chemotherapy attacking and breaking down the tumour/alien bastard, and because the alien was so big it was causing all sorts of problems for my organs – so I was right, it was having a tantrum.

Luckily this time around I snagged my own room for my stay and I spent the next two days attached to a drip, feeling incredibly rough and sorry for myself. Occasionally i'd wonder down to the main ward to see a friend that I'd made when I was having the chemotherapy. She was having treatment for lung cancer and had already undergone lots of chemotherapy, I found her incredibly brave and she made me feel positive and safe. Although, these visits were short lived because my drip machine would have a panic attack about being unplugged and would beep constantly at me until I plugged it back in. Me and that thing had a love, hate relationship. But the visits to her were well worth the drip aggro and it was reassuring to know she was there once my friends and family had left for the day. So when she knocked on my door a couple of days later dressed in her clothes i.e. no hospital gown and needles out, I knew she was leaving, she was going home. And I was so happy for her, long hospital stays mixed with cancer treatment can become soul destroying, and we all focus on getting better and back home. But I couldn't help but feel sad and choked up when we were saying goodbye, I guess the only people that truly understand what you're going through are the people that are also going through it. Once she left my room, I cried, I really cried, I felt horribly alone and scared. Everything hit me that day, I sat alone in that room, well I guess technically not alone, the alien bastard was keeping me company wasn't it. This was one of my hardest days.

But soon my sadness turned to frustration and anger and determination. There was a battle going on inside my body. The alien bastard wants to consume everything, it wants to make me sad, and ill and scared but hell if i'm going to let that happen. I don't think it realises how competitive I am, well it's about to find out.

Two days later, the swelling and pain was gone and my consultant sent me home. Ha, up yours cancer. 1-0 to me. *smug face*

“Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness” - Desmond Tutu

Yup, Yup, Yup

Drugs for breakfast, lunch and dinner 

Cancer juice

Rituximab and Bendamustine will be my cancer fighting juices for the next 6 months. Such serious names right?! They should definitely be renamed something much cooler. So Rituximab is a monoclonal antibody, or immunotherapy treatment. It works by teaching my body's immune system to recognise those sly cancer cells to then attack and destroy!! Cool huh. Then Bendamustine is your regular chemotherapy drug and comes in to do the clean up work, literally destroying everything in its path, including my lovely healthy cells. But I guess as long as its destroying the cancer i'll let that part slide.

Something i've discovered throughout the multitude of tests i've had to go through was that my veins can be incredibly wimpy. As soon as they become aware of a needle coming for them they shy away and today was no exception. No matter what I do my veins just won't co-operate, they don't want to play this cancer game and quite frankly I don't blame them. But i'm now on my third nurse in an attempt to get a needle in to start the treatment and i'm starting to become a tad squeamish and embarrassed at the fuss this is causing. But hallelujah, third time lucky, I'm going to call her the vein whisperer.

To ensure i'm sufficiently distracted for the day my friends skived off work to keep me entertained. My friends provide me with that sense of normality in my very confusing new world. And even though i'm sat in a hospital ward, attached to an IV with poison pouring through my body, the cancer is temporarily forgotten and the fear is gone. Instead the room is filled with hysterical laughter, its talk of what takeaway they can sneak in and how we can replace the fluid in the IV bag with wine. Sure, chemo day is bloody scary but having your best friends there making you laugh until you wee, makes it a damn lot easier!

Pumping the drugs in!!

My new friend for the next 6months

Chemo newbie

I got the call. Everything was ready for my chemotherapy to start and I needed to get into hospital that day and being a chemo newbie I had to stay in for a few days to be monitored. I'd been building up for this, I knew this was going to happen, but now it was actually happening oh boy was I scared. This whole thing is becoming increasingly real and as much as I try and ignore it my life has changed, it's terrifying how quickly that has happened. 

So I rock up to the ward and massively felt like the new recruit, with a full face of make up on, a cheery smile and far too overdressed for a hospital stay. I was in for a shock. I was put on a cancer ward and I was the youngest in there by 50 years. I've never seen the nurses so excited about having to dust off a playstation 4.

I've never been around cancer patients, obviously I've know cancer patients and have listened to their experiences but it's not until you walk into the hospital ward, the battleground, that you see the severity of cancer. I walked into that ward and I was scared, I didn't think that this would affect me – untouchable remember. Well the ward was full of patients with no hair, attached to drips and oxygen masks. Fuck, was this my life now? Am I to become one of these patients? But what I found out over the course of my stay was that these weren't just patients, these were incredibly powerful women, amongst the drips and masks were amazing women with incredible lives and who are now inspiring friends. There are so many people out there battling and living through it, cancer has grown such a scary death connotation but it needn't be, with awareness and action it can be diagnosed early and cured, I wasn't afforded that luck, but others still can be. 

Child measured dosages

So, the egg 'fishing'' procedure was, well let’s say, eventful. Not only did I have my legs in stirrups, but a room full of people, camera and spotlight all focused on you know what! I think it’s safe to say that I lost my dignity a while back. The entire procedure was made even more enjoyable by having very little pain relief. Whilst I have no experience of childbirth, this certainly provided me with an insight. Shudder.

I sat waiting miserable as sin, to be called in for my surgery. The two weeks of hormone injections had taken its toll, I was not finding the sexy backless gown as funny as usual, even the addition of a bright blue paper hat that gave me the 'smurfette' look was not able to amuse me. My sister on the other hand was overly excited as they gowned her up ready to watch the procedure. This decision was soon regretted as once it was all underway she became squeezy and made a mad dash for the door. This unlike the smurf hat had managed to put a smile back on my face and I laughed much to the confusion of the doctors.

To say they didn’t give me any pain relief would be unfair, as I did thoroughly enjoy the side effects of one particular drug, floating on cloud 9, they should sell that shit over the counter! The problem was that it didn’t seem to be enough, it never seems to be enough, it's because I'm small, they hold back due to my teeny tiny body mass. Listen Doc, I might be skimming just over 5ft but there is no need to give me child measured dosages.

The same thing happened during the biopsy of the alien bastard. Since the bastard had wormed itself right up against my kidney, spine and aorta, it was crucial to lie completely still, really fucking crucial, but being a known fidget, I was feeling the pressure. So I lie there on my tummy with a big ass needle lodged into my back, waiting for that cloud 9 feeling to kick in, but it never came. I didn’t want to make a fuss, so by the time the pain got really unbearable we were too far into the surgery to not complete the biopsy. We needed to know what was growing inside of me, and asap, so that big ass needle carried on going further and further into my back. It was like they were digging for gold, it took everything I had to not shout every obscenity under the sun, which I often do in this blog. The pain reached a point where I was either going to throw up or pass out, thankfully for those around me, I went with the latter. I was grateful for this, as puke in my hair was something that’s only mildly acceptable the morning after, the night before. Classy. The surgery was a success and they managed to cut away a sample of the bastard. I like to think that they carved out its eye, so now we’ll call it the one eyed bastard. I, however, was awarded the gold star for the bravest patient. Cue smug face.

Anyway, where were we?! Ah yes, egg fishing! After relentless 'poking' they removed 10 mature (something I’ve never been) eggs. The surgeon attempted to stop half way through, as it reached a point whereby we passed uncomfortable and landed at really fucking painful. I had other ideas, I wasn't prepared to leave an egg behind, I’d gone this far, so I digged deep and we finished up with 10 frozen eggs. Just think 10 crazy Charlotte minions. I intend to use every one of them for world domination.

Pre-pain selfie. Rocking the backless gown!

The baby bait

I've never actually sat down and thought about having children, maybe because i'm not in a long term relationship, maybe because i'm enjoying dating, maybe because I spend my weekends sitting in pub gardens drinking pints with friends, maybe because I love travelling, maybe because I'm putting all of my focus into starting up a business. I'm just 27, I like those maybes. I have plenty of time before I tackle nappies and midnight feeds, right? Well wrong, i'm in cancer world now remember, chemotherapy significantly reduces or may even take away my chance of having a baby. So now this wasn't a maybe moment, do I delay treatment and get my eggs frozen, or do a steam ahead with treatment? My consultant, who by the way is amazing, is concerned with my long term plan and wants me to have the choice of having children. After two years of misdiagnosis, what's an extra two weeks of fertility treatment going to do. Even though children wasn't in my immediate plans, having that choice cruelly taken away from me isn't fair. Its my choice, not cancers, the interfering bastard.

So off to Kings College London I go for two weeks of treatment. The basic idea is to cram my ovaries with hormones and stimulate the growth of the follicles and once I have enough, the surgeons will go in, or up, with a fishing rod and see how many of the blighters they can catch. I joke, it involves a very long needle and piercing of some very sensitive skin, but that doesn't sound very friendly and makes me feel queasy so lets just pretend I'll have a surgeon sitting there with a bright yellow fisherman's hat on, a fishing rod and baby bait.

The two week treatment involves injecting myself (yes myself, ahhh!) two times a night, one needle to spur on those hormones and the other to stop me ovulating before my follicles were ready – i'd have regular scans to monitor the growth. The first night of injections was chaos, firstly because I have a bad habit of getting distracted and not paying attention to serious conversations, like conversations where nurses show you how to mix the medications and inject correctly, you know the kind of conversations you HAVE to pay attention to, and could not remember what I was told to do. And secondly because I couldn't stop freaking out about this massive needle I'm having to put into my body! But finally, after watching a youtube video explaining the procedure I have the needle prepped and ready in one hand, glass of red in the other, some woman's monotone voice on the youtube clip in the background. God knows what my housemates would have thought if they'd walked in on this sight!

Sometime later...

Right so trying to inject with one hand is near on impossible so I had to shot that glass of wine, pour another, shot that, and with not so steady hands and having repeatedly shouted at myself to 'just fucking do it already' – again my poor housemates, I did it, hip bloody hooray, and ahhh relief, and you know it wasn't as bad as I thought, all that fart arsing around was ridiculous. But I am now aware that after two weeks of injections, I will look like a pin cushion and with the amount of needles I have stashed in my room I will look like an addict with a serious drug problem but sod it, it's giving me that chance to have children. And having spoken to or read about other peoples cancer experiences it is clear that many of them couldn't have the option of fertility treatment because of their type or stage of cancer and I keep thinking how heartbreaking that must be for them, so right now I count myself very lucky. Very lucky indeed.