After two weeks of Bears Bile and Milk Thistle, my liver has regenerated itself enough to be allowed to go back to the full dose of chemo drugs this week, hurrah! I love that word "regenerated" - it makes me imagine a little mini Dr Who inside me doing his thing (the David Tennant version, obviously, I wouldn't be allowed any other type...oh come on, he does look like him a bit.....). Dr Who does need to pull his finger out a little, as there is still some work for him to be getting on with, but he has made excellent progress.
And I did check, the Bears Bile is thankfully synthetic, so we don't need to worry about the dear little bears in China, or wherever, with taps in them. Phew.
I was ruminating the other day - one of the really shitty things about The Thing is that it turns you (well, it has turned me) into a complete hypochondriac. You have these meetings each week with Doctors, who tell you to report any new symptoms (and often they helpfully tell you what to look out for). After a few weeks of having nothing much to report, you start to feel like someone who's not really playing the game - and start thinking about trying to do your homework. This is disastrous.
This week, I managed to convince myself that I am starting to have Congestive Heart Failure - a one in a zillion side effect of the previous lot of drugs. My reasoning - I felt a bit breathless after 20 mins on the treadmill, and after walking up a steep hill while chatting at the same time. So I dutifully report this to Papa Smurf who (kindly) tells me not to be a prat. 1 in 100 people on chemo would even THINK about going on a treadmill and fewer than that can actually manage to do it. I am just less fit than I used to be - get over it! But being Singapore, she does offer me repeat echo tests etc, which I decline. I am just being a prat.
But it's not just that though - you start to question and analyse every bruise, spot, ache and pain; Is this something I am expecting, Should I be taking any of my meds for this? Does it mean anything? I absolutely hate this - gone are the happy days of UDIs - it's SO BORING both for me and for poor J who has to listen. Perhaps I should just disable Google on my laptop.
I suspect it may all just be a side effect of not being able to drink a drop - I now know that I am a very very very bad teetotaller. I guess that comes as no surprise to anyone! I now dream about that lovely first gulp of a cold beer on a hot evening (ooh with the condensation on the outside) - surely one of the most blissful things in the world, along with kicking off your shoes in the taxi and taking off your Bridget Jones pants (not in the taxi, obviously). Diet Coke or Ginger Ale does NOT cut the mustard.
Still - only 7 more weeks to go and it will all be over. And that IS something to be excited about.
As zen-like and serene as ever, J xx
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