Short and Sour

I decided not to write a deal about July because nothing much happened other than I was quite ill for most of it. Sometimes recording  the every day events prove useful to others, but months like July are just depressing. However something happened at the end of July that will change my life forever.

The 27th started out fine. As \I went in for my appointment I had the opportunity to be photographed with a genuine Olympic torch, That, however was where the fun stopped. Within half-an-hour I was being  told that no further treatment was possible, and I was going onto palliative care.

Don't know what else to say.

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One Day . . . . .

One day, something in this whole mess I'm going through will go according to plan. Today I went the hospital for my check up prior to starting the new treatment next week. I was looking forward to getting back on track and trying to do something to stem the progress of this terrible disease. What happened? Another delay, of course.

For the past couple of weeks I've had a humdinger of a cold, hot flushes, the works. My voice almost disappeared, and it set my eating and fluid intake progress back a while. The oncologist was quite concerned about all this so gave me a good check up and decided I wasn't quite strong enough to start. It seems I have thrush in my mouth/throat, and swabs were taken to see if in fact there was some sort of infection hanging around.

So, yet another promising day ruined. I ought to be getting used to these setbacks by now because I've had enough during the last six months, but each time it seems to knock just a little more out of me. Sometimes being positive is positively hard work, but what else is there to do? No giving in, but hanging in can be just as hard as putting up with everything else.

There's always next week!

Another Chance.

Readers may recall that chemotherapy has failed to halt the tumours in my liver, and I've been waiting for results of tests to see if another drug could possibly work. It's been a long three weeks and for a change I've got some good news to report.

The drug in question is called Celuximab (Erbitux), and is classed as a monoclonal antibody. It recognises and locks onto specific proteins (receptors) on the surface of cancer cells. This enables the body's immune system to recognise the cancer cells and destroy them. The problem is that is only acts on cells with certain properties, but fortunately the ones affecting me are likely to respond, and so treatment starts with the next 2-3 weeks.

The drug is not on the NHS list, but Weston Park Hospital in Sheffield have secured funding for me for up to twelve months. Treatment will involve a weekly visit to the day case unit for about an hour on the drip. After twelve weeks they'll do a scan to see how things are going, and then decide whether to continue further.

Like any other treatment there can be some side effects, but as long as I don't prove to be allergic to it (plenty of Piriton is given before the treatment) I can cope with that. It's got to be worth a shot, hasn't it?

Update 20June - first appoitment 3rd July.

Funny things us humans!

For two or three months I have been having problems eating. The side effects of the chemotherapy I was on sent my taste buds into another world, and started changing the taste of food until it got to a point where just about everything tasted like a piece of hardboard between two Ryvitas. Not conducive to good eating, and not very helpful to my wife who was beginning to wonder what on earth she could give me to eat.

I was losing weight rapidly, though to be fair there was plenty to go at, and then my troubles were added to by allowing myself to become sever;y dehydrated. I started getting out of breath to the point where I'd have to sit down after walking into the kitchen and back. Going upstairs started to cause dizzy spell, and a couple of times I momentarily blacked out. Time to call the ambulance, methinks.

After a couple to short spells in hospital to get some fluids back into me, I was given a strict fluid intake plan, and some steroids (Dexamethasone) to try to stimulate my system into taking in more food. Things progressed very slowly, but I was still struggling. Even my favourite foods and treats such as chocolate were still off limits.  Something I enjoyed one day could make my heave the following day, but I was finding a few more things to eat and starting to gain a little more confidence. This continued until last weekend when Saturday and Sunday saw a slightly larger step forward, and confidence was improving. Then on Monday of this week something strange happened that I find a little difficult to explain.

Instead of laying in bed until whenever I fancied and then wandering downstairs to try to force some breakfast down, I got up and cooked myself a breakfast! Bacon, egg, mushrooms, and a fried slice. When it was on the plate I looked at it and thought "what the hell have you done here?" old lad! Then I ate it. Every last little morsel. Not the healthiest of food, buy hey who cares. To say I was gobsmacked was an understatement. Anyway, that will last me the day - or so I thought.

Later that morning we set off for a few days break at Pontins near Lowestoft. As it neared lunchtime we looked en-route for somewhere to grab a comfort break, and came across a McDonald's. Oh dear! Guess who had a cheeseburger, fries and coke, followed by a hot apple pie. Yes, oh yes, it was me. Again, not exactly recommended as the best menu around, but again my pleasure at being able to get down a second meal in a day was almost tear jerkingly good.

The early evening came, and it was time to sample what was on offer for evening meal. I chose a slice of roast gammon and veg. Couldn't cope with the spuds as they were a bit dry but everything else went down, topped up by a slice of chocolate fudge cake. Next morning, full English. I could go on, but won't!

So, what brought about this sudden overnight change? Damned if I know. It was as if while I was asleep on Sunday night someone threw the "start eating again" switch. I can't think of any other explanation. I'm not grumbling, by the way. I am so relieved at the change to a point that you wouldn't believe. It's boosted my confidence, and will have made Marie's life much easier now that her picky husband is now almost back to a normal diet.

So, I'm not going to look for the answer to why. All we're bothered about is that it's a big boost to help cope with whatever the future brings while we live with my health issues. Having done very little for several weeks my mobility has been affected by all this, but that's also improving slightly now.

Who threw the switch? Haven't a clue - but thank you!

Oh Dear!

Today was the appointment to check on my recovery from the specific problems of the last three weeks, and to hear the results of the scans I had when I was hauled into dock last Friday. The recovery from severe dehydration continues and I feel tons better than a week ago. My brain scan shows that I've got one and it's fine and the cardiologist said my ECG was the best she'd seen all week, but that's where the good news stops.

My chest/abdo/pelvis CT scan indicates that the small lump in my lung has about halted, but the visitors affecting my liver are not giving up without a bloody good fight - and they're winning. My last two chemo regimes have done no good whatsoever and the little blighters are still growing - slowly but surely. Not at all what we wanted to hear, but having been told over a year ago that my cancer was very aggressive I wasn't too surprised. So, where do we go from here.

There is no point in continuing the current chemo as it's doing no good. In fact under the circumstances I'm better off without it because of side effect problems. However I'm told there's one more trick they can try. It seems there is a particular drug that attacks certain cancers that affect the liver. Damned if I can remember its name. The problem is that it's only effective on certain types of cell so that aspect now has to be checked out. Further tests are to be carried out on tissue removed when I had my liver resection in February last year to see if my bad cells could be expected to respond to this treatment. These tests will take around three weeks.

I've had my PICC line, which was borderline for having to be replaced anyway, taken out as if this hopefully wonder drug is used it can be done in one hour sessions by cannula, though they will replace it if I prefer. Having been freed of this particular bit of plumbing after all this time is lovely, though I'd rather it have been for a different reason.

Nobody's talking imminent doom and gloom, and now I've got over the "I've just been hit on the back of the head with a brick" feeling I'm at ease with all this, though I'm sure over the next few days I'll have my moments. Telling the kids was the only thing that got me a bit emotional today. Marie is still a bit numb from it all but, mainly for her benefit, we are now talking with Macmillan.

So, three weeks to wait to see if there's a next step or not. It won't be easy, but hey the sun's out and I've got three weeks away from doctors and hospitals. I see a holiday somewhere on the cards.

I'll blog you a postcard if we go away!!!

Just had a quick thought. What with the failing kidney a couple of weeks ago and now a diseased liver, I've had an "offal" few weeks.  OK - I'll get my coat!