Another (long) update!

Hi all,

I am such a rubbish blogger... I always forget to blog!

Loads has been going on since my last posts so I'll try to remember as much as I can.

In July we hosted a cheese and wine night on a Saturday evening for some friends. We'd been wanting to do it for a while but with chemo and other things going on we hadn't got round to it. It was a really lovely night and most people (not including me!) had quite a bit to drink.

The next day, Steve was feeling really sorry for himself - obviously we put it down to having had a few drinks after a good couple of months of not drinking. He spent most of Sunday asleep, which was unlike him but I wasn't worried because again, it seemed obvious that it was due to a night involving lots of alcohol after being sober for a while. He still felt awful in the evening so we had an early night and I told him to try and sleep it off some more.

In the middle of the night, I woke up to our whole bed shaking. I sat up and realised it was Steve... He was shivering like nothing I've ever seen before but still seemed very sleepy. I was extremely worried and woke him up to check he was okay. He told me he felt freezing cold but when I turned on the light to find him an extra blanket, I saw that he was dripping with sweat. I put the extra blanket over him anyway because he said he felt so cold, but I stayed awake whilst he went back to sleep because I was too concerned to get anymore sleep myself.

On Monday morning he felt the same - still shivering and complaining that he was freezing cold, but still sweating profusely.

We called the chemotherapy ward at our local hospital where Steve had undergone all of his treatment, and asked their advice. They told us he would need to go immediately to the Cancer Centre at another local hospital; one we'd never been seen at or treated at before. They asked if we'd like an ambulance sent to get us there right away but he seemed okay at this point, so we said no and made our own way there.

On the way to the hospital, Steve deteriorated massively. I had to keep shaking his shoulder and shouting at him to try and keep him awake - he was slipping in and out of consciousness and was completely delirious and hallucinating.

I had to run and get a wheelchair when we arrived at the hospital because there's no way Steve could stand, let alone walk to the department we needed to be in.

He was hooked up to some general intravenous antibiotics and fluids to hydrate him whilst I answered lots of questions. I kept reiterating that he'd been drinking over the weekend and was desperately hoping that this was the cause of his condition, and nothing more sinister.

The doctor kept talking to Steve to see if she could ascertain what sort of state he was in, and it was apparent within a few seconds that something was seriously wrong.

They took lots of blood cultures and sent them off for testing. He was sent for an x-ray, which showed nothing we weren't already aware of.

He seemed to perk up a bit and feel slightly better throughout the day, and he was sent down to a private room on a different ward in the Cancer Centre where he would have to stay. As I was getting ready to leave, he seemed to get worse again - severe shivering/rigor and complaining he was freezing cold despite feeling extremely hot to the touch and sweating.

I called for help and within a few seconds the room filled with nurses who were pulling off his bed covers, putting pillow cases full of ice all over his body and on his head, and shouting that his temperature was at 41 degrees. Two nurses leant over me to throw open the windows. One of them hurled a fan to me and told me to plug it in and hold it on his face. I cried that I didn't want to - he was almost in tears himself at how freezing cold he felt and was begging them all to leave him alone and give his blankets back. They even took his socks off. I felt totally heartbroken that he was suffering so much and they seemed to be making it worse. Very reluctantly I sat by his side with one hand stroking his face talking gently to him, and the other hand holding the fan. I was holding back tears. By this point, he was throwing up and his face and body were bright red.

After about an hour, his temperature had dropped slightly, although it was still around 40 degrees C, and visiting hours were over. As I left to go home (still in tears and petrified), one of the nurses stopped me - seeing I was pregnant, she gave me a really sad, sympathetic look before giving me a huge hug and writing down all the different phone numbers I could call to find out his condition at any time.

I called the second I got home - he'd been sick again since I left but was improving slowly.

I cried myself to sleep, eventually drifting off through sheer exhaustion at around 1am, and I called them again when I woke at about 4am. They told me nothing much had changed overnight - they were still monitoring his temperature and still had IV fluids going. They didn't have results for the blood cultures yet so the antibiotics were still generic ones.

Tuesday wasn't quite as bad, although still very worrying and it didn't look like Steve was any closer to coming home.

They got the blood results back and told us Steve had a Staphylococcal infection in his blood. It had entered through the site where the tunnel line was positioned for chemotherapy - the line leading directly into his heart. This sort of infection can shut down the vital organs, and very quickly. I was petrified that his heart could shut down at any moment. Luckily, Steve was unaware of this so was able to stay calm and focus on resting.

The antibiotics were changed to much stronger and more targeted ones for this particular infection.

After a few more days, Steve was eventually feeling much better.

They decided not to give him his last chemotherapy session and to remove the tunnel line on Thursday, before letting him come home. This would prevent any further infection. They felt the small chance of benefit from the final chemotherapy session (it becomes less effective towards the end) was outweighed by the risk of further infection if they were to keep the tunnel line in for the remaining two weeks.

Two doctors performed a quick procedure to remove the line and we were very happy to see the back of it!

He was discharged from hospital later that day with lots of oral antibiotics to continue with to ensure the infection was completely gone.

On our way out, that same nurse who had given me a sad look and a cuddle said something neither of us will ever forget - "you had us all scared for a while there, we had crash teams at the ready outside the door of your room - it really was touch and go for you these last few days" - it sent shivers down our spines and I still feel sick thinking about it. I hadn't realised how close I'd come to losing the love of my life and I never want to feel that feeling again. We don't speak about it because it upsets us both, but this blog was always intended to be an honest account of what we're going through and the feelings we've felt, and I want it to stay that way.

I was told to continue monitoring Steve's temperature every few hours for about another week. Any sign of it heading above 37 degrees C and we were to go straight back in.

We were both really grateful to have some time off from treatment and we had a lovely rest of the summer.

We now have a 5 and a half week old beautiful little girl called Esmée! She is absolutely our world and we're besotted. She is definitely a Daddy's girl. He adores her and she looks so much like him! She's brought such an amazing joy into our lives and nothing makes me happier than seeing my husband cuddling our little girl and staring into her eyes. It melts my heart (and I have to keep deleting things from my phone to make room for photos - I already have about 600 pictures of her, mostly with her dad!).

Steve will soon be starting on a trial drug, the main aim of which is to eradicate the symptoms of cancer (pain, fatigue, nausea etc) and to build muscle mass, enabling him to better fight the disease. It also aims to prevent the cancer from spreading anywhere else in the body, keeping it contained to his lungs. Following this, it's likely he will continue with more chemotherapy and possibly other treatments.

His oncologist is really excited about this new drug so we have high hopes.

Apologies for the 5 months of quiet since my last posts, I'll try not to leave it so long next time!

Lots of love as always

Xx