No chemo today

I arrived to have my chemo today, but it turns out that the Doxorubicin has been doing it's job a little too well. When my blood was put under the microscope, it was revealed that my white cells were too low to allow me to take my second dose of chemo. So, I've been sent home with three injections that encourage my white cells to grow in my bone marrow, and a week's worth of antibiotics. Strangely, it isn't everyone else's germs that I need to be worried about, it's my own bacteria that could create an infection. On a biological basis, I have become my own worst enemy. How incredibly annoying is that?

Once I had received the call to return to the medical day unit because the Doctor Wanted To See Me - a call that caused my barely digested croissant to form a solid lump in my belly and my whole body to pulsate in time with my heart beat - we rushed back. We were both panicking. Realistically it could only have been to discuss the chemotherapy, but it was difficult not to spin a voice mail message into 'something' out of control.

The rescheduling of my chemo meant that all of my upcoming scans were out of whack, so I spent ages running up and down to different departments sorting them out.

My new schedule also meant saying goodbye to my cancer chums who I had met on my three weekly visits. I said goodbye and good luck to Jackie, who continues to send forth her armies in her veins. She's also found some incredibly expensive honey that she swears by. I left her waiting to find out if she could have her chemo. Having confessed to her doctor that she could no longer feel her toes - nerve damage from her chemo - she was keeping her lifeless toes crossed that she had convinced him to let her have another dose. I waved goodbye to the Asian woman whose English is minimal and who is shadowed everywhere by her protective husband and son. It didn't look as if she was being treated today either, so I might see her again. I also met my French friend Celeste on the way out. She's thinking about whether to take the treatment that has been offered. After this there is no more chemo for Celeste. Both she and Jackie have secondaries in their livers - wish them well.


I realised the truth about chemo today. Much as I whinge about being on it and really don't look forward to my day in the chair, I'd rather be doing chemo than not. It's a believable treatment. When I was told that I would have to go away and come back next week, I really felt quite bereft. At the support group, two of the women spoke briefly about how difficult it is, psychologically, being discharged from hospital. I can see their point now. Treatment makes me feel that I am doing something proactive about my cancer. When I go into remission, hopefully soon, I'm going to have to take some steps to enable myself to continue this feeling, to claw back some control. I can see why people police their diet, or run around the world. It's time to make some plans.