About this Blog

This blog started as an online diary and place for me to rant about annoyances in my family.

However since July it has become a place for me to catalogue and express my views and opinions on the treatment I have recieved following the diagnosis of a potentially cancerous tumor in my bowel.

On 3rd August 2011 I was told that it was cancerous. In April 2012 I was given the all clear.

October 15th 2013 I was diagnosed with peritoneal disease and liver metastases. The cancer was back and this time it is inoperable.

It is a little bit out of date as the NHS doesn't tend to have a WiFi connection in hospital and I can only post when I get home and posts take a while to write.

It is NOT about individuals or the nursing profession. It is about some of the inadequacies in the system and the way the NHS is failing some people.

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Thursday, 21 November 2013

Not coping with chemotherapy

Today I have definitely not been coping with chemotherapy.

The day got off to a bad start when a teething, screaming Hope woke just before 3am, had a bottle, some calpol, a clean nappy and then about 15 minutes later vomited the bottle back over me. Luckily it didn't hit out of bedding, only my t shirt and her gro bag. 

Prior to that and following it I still had several bathroom visits to make. Luckily my bathroom is so small, I can fall asleep on the loo lean forward and rest my head on the door. So I did get some sleep, albeit uncomfortable.

Some things just test you, like your husband having to go to Coventry for a meeting. The alarm went off at 5am, he left at 5.33. I was awake with baited breath hoping he had been sufficiently stealthy so as not to wake Imogen who appears to sleep like a gnat and wake at the littlest noise. 

She kept sleeping and did not wake until 6.45. I dozed for that time in between bathroom visits naturally.

I was surprised this morning to be visited by a side effect I didn't really experience during my first chemo experience of so far during this one. Nausea. 

Morning sickness during pregnancy I can deal with. I eat, I vomit, I feel better. This was not like that. I ate, to a background of Imogen coughing,  crying, whinging about not wanting to go to preschool and generally pushing every button I had. But no vomit was forthcoming and if has remained like that all day.

Eventually, Isaac and Hope were fed, Imogen refused her toast. Everyone was dressed, and we left for school. 

Imogen was still whining about not wanting to go to preschool. I ignored it. 

Somehow my children are terrible hypochondriacs. Imogen had a cough. But it is a cough, it is not life threatening. Isaac is the same. 

We made it to school, we reported the missing book bag to Mrs Sharp, who must have located it, as it came home this evening, and headed home with the tantrum escalating to full blown screaming, and hitting. Yes, my beautiful confident daughter was walking along hitting and punching me because she didn't want to go to preschool. All this time my stomach is churning, my nausea is escalating and I want to curl up into a ball and sob. But I can't I have to remain strong for my children.

We got home, we cuddled, we watched alphablocks & ra ra. Then went through the whole screaming and hitting on the walk to preschool. 

At pre school Vida took charge, Imogen, she said, why don't you help me count the children in. And she did. She stayed on the door with Vida, I dropped off her bags and fruit and water and that was that.

I felt like I had done 10 rounds with Mike Tyson, & I hate boxing, I actually complained to the BBC about its coverage in prime time during the Olympics as I had to explain to Isaac that although hitting people is wrong it's ok to do it for sport. Yeah, he didn't get it either!!

I thought things might get easier from there, Hope might fall asleep so I could at least rest if not sleep, no such luck. She finished her bottle, but wouldn't nap, she had a little play on the floor, but got bored, she had a cuddle, but wanted down on the floor. She was clearly fighting sleep.

I resorted to leaving for preschool 10minutes earlier with her screaming in the pushchair just to walk her to sleep. Which worked, but it wanted her to sleep earlier so I could rest.

Imogen had had a lovely time at preschool. She came and gave me a cuddle and said sorry for being so horrible. My pride in her returned, my faith restored. 

She had lunch, she played on my iPad, then she crashed out. I'd explored this option earlier and contacted my school pick up angel. Thank you Karen, I don't know what I would have done without you today. I called the school and explained the situation. 

I managed about 20 minutes sleep before Hope some up for feeding. One downed 7oz bottle later and my smiley baby was back, rolling, rocking all over the floor.

Isaac was returned to me with book bag. I gave the gorgeous Sadie a happy birthday hug. She is growing into a beautiful young woman and Karen and Simon should be very proud. And tall girls have all the fun!!

Too much cbeebies, a lovely Dunn Spag Bol, a worrying pain in my side (resolved with heat), 4 recorded episodes of Ben and Holly, and it was 6:45pm and Daddy was home. I got my 10 minutes of peace before having to help a constipated Imogen open her bowels (see I really am obsessed with poo).

Both children were asleep by 7:30, Hope has had calpol (50% of which I am confident went in) and teething gel, and is now asleep on her tummy in the Moses basket