Steve's 3rd chemotherapy session was nearly 3 weeks ago which means his next one is this Saturday.
After the last one, to say we're not looking forward to it is an understatement. Within seconds of the cannula being removed, Steve had to rush to the toilet to be sick, was sick on the way home from the hospital, and was sick every 15 minutes for the next 6 hours.
After about an hour of this, I called for a district nurse to administer an anti-sickness injection - we waited 4 hours for her to arrive, all the time Steve still being uncontrollably sick, and when she did arrive she discovered we hadn't been given the correct paperwork signed by a doctor to authorise her giving the injection. So she went away, and returned another 2 hours later having gone to the hospital herself to have something signed.
It was heartbreaking to see him so poorly - those few days following on from Chemo #3 were definitely some of the most emotional days we've had since the diagnosis.
Steve started to lose confidence in chemotherapy after being reassured so many times beforehand that any side effects would be treated immediately and this clearly not being the case this time. We've spoken to the doctors and nurses who have promised us this will not happen again, and have some different anti-sickness drugs on standby for Saturday and every treatment thereafter. I have also received some advice from friends regarding alternatives, e.g. to provide him with 24 hour anti-sickness among other things. (While I'm on that topic, thank you so much to everyone who has given me advice and recommended different things, I really do take it on board and discuss it with the doctors and nurses!)
After this Saturday, Steve will be half way through his intravenous sessions of chemo, so we are looking forward to reaching that milestone and being able to count down the remainder! Definitely going to plan an "end-of-chemo" party when it's all over!
Saying goodbye to 2012 and welcoming 2013 last night was strangely emotional. I'm struggling to put into words how I feel about the past year because it's been so full of love and happiness yet fear and heartbreak all at the same time.
I feel so lucky to have met my amazing husband-to-be and have had the time of my life with him, and I've also been heartbroken and scared more than I ever thought it possible to be. I've pictured spending my life with this person I love so much, and then I've had to picture it maybe not working out that way. I've learnt things about myself that I never would've known had this not happened to us, and I've been inspired by the selflessness of our amazing friends and family during the most difficult time of our lives. I've been disappointed in friends who I haven't heard a single word from since Steve's diagnosis in July, and massively appreciative of those who have been by our sides throughout. There are aspects of the past year that will still break my heart in 50 years time, but others that I will look back on for the rest of my life with the most love and happiness a person can possibly feel.
2013 is the year we are cancer-free, happily married, and ready to start our lives together properly. Here's to the next big adventure.
Xx
Showing posts with label diagnosis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label diagnosis. Show all posts
Tuesday, 1 January 2013
Wednesday, 19 September 2012
Second Biggest Cancer Killer... Really?!
I'd hardly ever even heard of bowel cancer until Steve's diagnosis. I knew it existed but that was about the extent of my knowledge of the disease. But now everywhere I look I'm seeing that it's the second biggest cancer killer. How is it possible that I knew so little about the symptoms?
It angers me that we know so little about this sort of cancer - I'm sure hundreds, if not thousands of lives would be saved each year if there was a bit more awareness of the many symptoms that can occur.
Maybe it's because there is still a stigma attached when it comes to talking about bottoms and poo. It's heartbreaking to think people die of this disease because they don't want to face 10 minutes of embarrassment at the doctors.
So, for anyone who just happens to have come across my blog and isn't aware of the symptoms, here are some of the most common ones:
It angers me that we know so little about this sort of cancer - I'm sure hundreds, if not thousands of lives would be saved each year if there was a bit more awareness of the many symptoms that can occur.
Maybe it's because there is still a stigma attached when it comes to talking about bottoms and poo. It's heartbreaking to think people die of this disease because they don't want to face 10 minutes of embarrassment at the doctors.
So, for anyone who just happens to have come across my blog and isn't aware of the symptoms, here are some of the most common ones:
- Rectal bleeding (bleeding from your bottom) if it persists for more than 3 weeks.
- Abdominal pain, especially if severe but also if it is constant, or comes and goes.
- A change in bowel habit - going more often, less often, looser stools or passing a clear mucus.
- A lump in your tummy.
- Unexplained tiredness, dizziness and breathlessness.
- Unexplained weight loss.
It is unlikely that most of these symptoms will mean bowel cancer, but any change is worth investigating, even just for peace of mind. Speak to your GP and make sure they take you seriously. Too many people are sent away without a second thought because they are "too young." There is no such thing as too young, so please take notice of what your body is telling you. It really is worth it.
P.S. I have to give credit to Bowel Cancer UK and Beating Bowel Cancer - both have been fantastic in raising awareness as well as providing help, information and support for myself and Steve, along with many others I know who are facing this battle.
Friday, 14 September 2012
How it all began...
Firstly, I want to talk about Steve's diagnosis and the time leading up to it.
We'd been at the Isle Of Wight Festival in June this year - my first festival and one of the muddiest there has ever been. It was supposed to be a Thursday-Monday trip, but Steve took a slightly drunken fall on the Friday and sprained his ankle. He didn't have the strength in his ankle to walk through thick, knee-deep mud so by Sunday morning we'd decided to come home.
My instincts were telling me we needed to get home ASAP. I've never really paid attention to instincts before, but there was something about this one that made me feel very uneasy.
Sunday was fine - we got home, had nice hot showers and a hot dinner, watched a film and had a good night's sleep - until about 6.45am, when Steve got up the go to the toilet. I was half asleep when he came back into our room and told me that he'd just lost about a pint of blood on the toilet.
Straight away I sat up and told him we needed to go to hospital right away. I didn't know the symptoms of bowel cancer, and at this point hadn't considered that cancer could be the reason for this "episode", but I knew that something like this is your body's way of telling you something isn't right.
There was no way Steve was going into hospital without putting up a fight - "Forget I said anything", "I'll call the doctor if it happens again", "I'm not having anyone examining me". Within half an hour, we were at Bournemouth Hospital A&E being seen by a doctor.
Steve was examined by a few different people and had bloods and blood pressure checked. Everything looked fine, so we were both anxious when we were told he'd be staying in hospital overnight.
On Tuesday 26th July, following a flexi-sigmoidoscopy (long flexible tube with a camera on the end to look inside the bowel), Steve was allowed home. We were told "a number of polyps" had been found and would be sent off for biopsy and that we'd have the results in about 2 weeks. A week later, Steve got a call to say his results were in and he had an appointment on Friday 6th July to discuss them.
This is when he was diagnosed.
Steve had never even considered that he could have cancer - he said that not ONCE did the possibility cross his mind. He thought his diagnosis was "a number of polyps" and that this was the reason for his bleed.
Having dealt with my mother's cancer for 8 years and therefore recognising a lot of the medical terms used by doctors when they were referring to Steve, I had suspected from quite an early stage that this bleed was a sign of something a lot more sinister than we'd previously thought.
I hadn't been allowed the time off work to go with Steve for his results, so his parents went with him. Steve's dad had suffered from pancreatic cancer a few years previously and both parents also had their doubts about the diagnosis, although they never told him that.
Steve and I work for the same company, and he was due to come back into work around 4pm, after collecting his results. 4pm came and went... I was clock-watching and looking at the door, waiting for him to walk through it and tell me everything was fine, although deep down I knew that this was not going to happen. After what seemed like hours, I saw the Mike, the company director (and a very good friend of ours) come into the office and have a hushed conversation with one of the managers - I remember clearly thinking "They're going to tell me that I need to go home now, because Steve has cancer." I went light-headed and woozy, I saw my manager's face appear in front of me and I heard "Gina, Steve is at home, you need to go. Mike is going to take you."
I was silent for the 5 minute car journey home because I was trying to prepare myself for what I knew I was about to hear. I walked into the lounge and my heart broke. My 6ft 2 boyfriend looked at me with terrified Bambi eyes and said "I've got bowel cancer." He fell into my arms and all I could manage was "I know, but it's going to be okay."
We'd been at the Isle Of Wight Festival in June this year - my first festival and one of the muddiest there has ever been. It was supposed to be a Thursday-Monday trip, but Steve took a slightly drunken fall on the Friday and sprained his ankle. He didn't have the strength in his ankle to walk through thick, knee-deep mud so by Sunday morning we'd decided to come home.
My instincts were telling me we needed to get home ASAP. I've never really paid attention to instincts before, but there was something about this one that made me feel very uneasy.
Sunday was fine - we got home, had nice hot showers and a hot dinner, watched a film and had a good night's sleep - until about 6.45am, when Steve got up the go to the toilet. I was half asleep when he came back into our room and told me that he'd just lost about a pint of blood on the toilet.
Straight away I sat up and told him we needed to go to hospital right away. I didn't know the symptoms of bowel cancer, and at this point hadn't considered that cancer could be the reason for this "episode", but I knew that something like this is your body's way of telling you something isn't right.
There was no way Steve was going into hospital without putting up a fight - "Forget I said anything", "I'll call the doctor if it happens again", "I'm not having anyone examining me". Within half an hour, we were at Bournemouth Hospital A&E being seen by a doctor.
Steve was examined by a few different people and had bloods and blood pressure checked. Everything looked fine, so we were both anxious when we were told he'd be staying in hospital overnight.
On Tuesday 26th July, following a flexi-sigmoidoscopy (long flexible tube with a camera on the end to look inside the bowel), Steve was allowed home. We were told "a number of polyps" had been found and would be sent off for biopsy and that we'd have the results in about 2 weeks. A week later, Steve got a call to say his results were in and he had an appointment on Friday 6th July to discuss them.
This is when he was diagnosed.
Steve had never even considered that he could have cancer - he said that not ONCE did the possibility cross his mind. He thought his diagnosis was "a number of polyps" and that this was the reason for his bleed.
Having dealt with my mother's cancer for 8 years and therefore recognising a lot of the medical terms used by doctors when they were referring to Steve, I had suspected from quite an early stage that this bleed was a sign of something a lot more sinister than we'd previously thought.
I hadn't been allowed the time off work to go with Steve for his results, so his parents went with him. Steve's dad had suffered from pancreatic cancer a few years previously and both parents also had their doubts about the diagnosis, although they never told him that.
Steve and I work for the same company, and he was due to come back into work around 4pm, after collecting his results. 4pm came and went... I was clock-watching and looking at the door, waiting for him to walk through it and tell me everything was fine, although deep down I knew that this was not going to happen. After what seemed like hours, I saw the Mike, the company director (and a very good friend of ours) come into the office and have a hushed conversation with one of the managers - I remember clearly thinking "They're going to tell me that I need to go home now, because Steve has cancer." I went light-headed and woozy, I saw my manager's face appear in front of me and I heard "Gina, Steve is at home, you need to go. Mike is going to take you."
I was silent for the 5 minute car journey home because I was trying to prepare myself for what I knew I was about to hear. I walked into the lounge and my heart broke. My 6ft 2 boyfriend looked at me with terrified Bambi eyes and said "I've got bowel cancer." He fell into my arms and all I could manage was "I know, but it's going to be okay."
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