Fizzlesticks Part 12

This chapter was going to be called 'Rude Awakenings' all about how I had become very positive and virtually spiritual about what was happening to me, I was tired of feeling sick and weak and I was ready to tackle each treatment head on and not allow it to bring me down, or beat me or even stop me from living as normal a life as possible. Not only was I going to beat this I was going to do it singing dancing and laughing.

Then I had treatment number four and any notion of a new life affirming attitude was kicked into touch.

Back in December when I was last in the school where I teach the children had been told in assembly that I would not be taking their classes for a while and why. Later that day one of the children from my class who is 13 going on 28 came up to me to tell me that if I ever needed someone to talk to she would be there for me. It turns out that Little Miss Wisebeyondheryears had herself gone through cancer at an appallingly young age, as a result she was blind in one eye and knew all about hair loss, sickness and indeed chemotherapy. She was a treasure, a straight talking empathetic treasure. This conversation was the week before my first chemo and I remember asking her if she thought I would be able to make it into the school fair the Saturday after. She shook her head emphatically 'No way!' she said, 'not a chance'.

Feeling that here was someone who would tell it like it is I asked if I really was going to feel that bad. She looked at me quizzically (probably weighing up whether or not I was strong enough to hear the truth) and said unequivocally:

"Yeah, it's pretty bad, but nowhere near as bad as how you are going to feel at the last one" and she smiled her beautiful smile and went on her way. Out of the mouths of babes...

In a world of highbrow medical professionals who seemingly prefer their neutral non-committal vantage point from the proverbial fence, this child's blunt opinionated words were like a breath of fresh air. I quickly became used to the fact that it was rare for anyone to say for definite what the effects would be, or even how long they would last but to hear someone answer a question clearly and be straight down the line about it, well it didn't just make a refreshing change to hear, it also helped me to prepare for what was coming. I shall tell her as much when I next see her in the classroom.

She was right too, absolutely spot on, it does become progressively worse, the symptoms, the physical effects, the psychological impact, everything. What doesn't break you makes you stronger right? Wrong...it actually makes you very upset and angry. Anger isn't good for my condition...apparently I should be calm and zen like, well in that case they need to pass that message on to the oncologists. I have oncologist envy, anyone who says they travel miles to see their specialist because they have so much trust and respect for them is met with a speechless stare from me. I have seen three so far, three very different ones, all very lovely in their own ways I'm sure...maybe... but all of them managing to deplete me of any sort of faith in a system which should know who I am pretty much inside out from my medical history and what I have already been through. Or am I asking too much?

Two days before each chemotherapy I have an appointment to see the oncologist, I also have my blood tests and my picc line flushed and changed. Honestly, never a dull moment. After the fourth one The Boyfriend and I were more concerned than usual because I hadn't had a good week, in fact I had barely had any good days. Normally the week before chemo I feel stronger, not quite normal as I can't remember that feeling but near enough. The symptoms this time had been abysmal, so together we made a list, I figured the more details the oncologist had about what I was going through the better he / she would be equipped to help.

I should have added seriously delusional...

The general consensus is that chemo leaves you feeling sick and tired, it does indeed, but as your body slowly breaks down (at least that is what it feels like) it offers up a whole host of other side effects, that in itself is a misnomer, side effects, they aren't on the side at all, they are served up as all encompassing main dishes. You have the ones you expect, or the ones you are told about such as the sickness, sheer exhaustion, your skin drying out, actually everything starts to dry out but you might be eating your tea so we won't go there. They also warn you that you may experience mouth ulcers, or as I know them tiny blisters on the roof of my mouth which grow overnight. However, some of the effects came as completely horrible surprises, and it was these I had on the list in my dry little hands as I waited to see the oncologist.

Enter centre stage Pretty Boy. Yes that is what I shall call him, early thirties, tall, mixed race, good looking, same hair as me, or lack of it, eyelashes I would kill for, a high bum, floral fitted shirt and bad slip on shoes. Well, something had to give. He thought he was something else, charm personified, he greeted me with a smooth 'Hello Martina, we have met before please sit down, how are you?'.

Indeed we had, the last time I was here, surprised I was meeting yet another oncologist I had found his 'charm' slightly nauseating  (and let's face it I am a bit of an expert on nausea at the moment) but I gave him the benefit of the doubt and he gave me sick pills with a sedative which helped me sleep. I thought he'd be impressed with my list, I felt like I had done my homework.

I started to read through the list, explain about the breathlessness:

"I have to literally stop for about 10 seconds mid conversation before I can speak, it's quite scary" I told him.

Not a word, he just looked at me.

"You know" I continued "Not able to talk, a bit like Gareth Gates syndrome" I said, trying to make a feeble joke.

Nb, do not joke with the medical profession, and certainly not about a former Pop Idol with a stammer, he probably wasn't even born then. No response, cue tumbleweed. He just kept looking at me, as if I had the answer, or I needed to say more.

"You do want to know about these don't you?" I asked, feeling slightly stupid with my postcard of maladies "I thought it would help if I made a list."

He smiled at me and nodded, and wrote something down but I wasn't convinced. He then suggested we listen to my chest, which we did. He checked my blood test results on his computer and it transpired I was anaemic, dangerously so. Right, that would explain the shortness of breath, chemo taking out all of my red blood cells like an almighty kung fu kick and the oxygen then struggling to move around my body, no wonder I couldn't breathe, oxygen being relatively vital to do that. I love a scientific explanation. No problem...

"I'll grab a fillet steak on the way" I said. Somewhat naively.
"No, that won't make any difference, you need a blood transfusion" He said making more notes.
"I can't, I have chemotherapy the day after tomorrow, fifth round, I am not delaying that"
"Oh" He said, raising his eyebrows (lucky bastard) "You still want to go ahead"

What???

With that simple little question he sowed seeds of doubt in my head which were to rear up again and again.

"Why would I not go ahead?" I asked, utterly gobsmacked.
"Due to the severity of the symptoms you are experiencing I thought you may have second thoughts" he said, "In light of the fact that you would like to continue I will see about a blood transfusion"

It's hard to explain this, I have managed to do four lots of chemo, my brain and willpower have been entirely focused on getting through all six, it is getting worse, without a doubt, but it's something I have to do, at least I thought I did. I'm going to park that for now, let's go back to the list.

Fizzing...I hate this one.You know that sensation when you were younger and dive bombed into the pool and the water shot up your nasal passage and gave you bad sinus pains? Imagine that but with chemicals instead of water. That's fizzing, I explained all this to Pretty Boy who managed to say this:

"That's funny, I have never heard of that one"

Funny? Funny? What part of that is ..... funny?? Insert your own swear words, I can't because my Dad reads this.

He then looked at the MacMillan cancer website to see if he could find any notes on fizzing there, it beggared belief, I pressed on, I couldn't bear much more of this but I had a list dammit.

"I've been feeling very down, teary, almost depressed" I said, "I'm not really like that and it's worrying just how low I've been feeling" I carried on through the pause before the tumbleweed hit me

"I'm guessing that's another side effect though".

Brace yourselves....

"Are you self harming?" he asked.

Really? Seriously? Self Harming? I wish I had the presence of mind to have given him a smart answer back, such as 'I think the NHS has that covered' which a lovely friend said to me later that day adding a few choice words of her own, but then it would have gone over his tick boxing head anyway. The only other thing I could tell him about were the spikes in temperature I had been experiencing, suddenly becoming very hot indeed. He leaned back in his chair and had a brief look at my notes on screen.

"That'll be the onset of the menopause" he said, "Chemo does that, brings it on, and you're the right age".

Never mind self harming, if I hadn't been so breathless I would have taken him by the scruff of his floral shirt and lifted him right out of his bad shoes.