9. Getting Ready for Chemo
Everything moved so fast in the week before chemo starting. I continued in my quest for suitable products, deodrants, foundation, soap, moisturiser, eyebrow pencils. All the things I thought would be important for me to have when I lost my hair, and possibly my eyebrows. I wanted items that were as natural as possible. I didn’t want to put any more chemicals into my body than it had to already go through. I began to think ahead and what I would do when I lost my hair. I had my plans set out and I talked to people about my decision not to wear a wig. For the most, people were supportive, a few suggested I might wear a wig should I be going somewhere. I was planning not to wear head scarves, I was going fully bald. There are so many reasons for this decision:
· With or without hair I was still the same person, I was not better or worse because I had hair.
· If it gave someone else the confidence to not feel pressured into wearing a wig, then that was worthwhile.
· I wanted to remain genuine to myself, I was a person with cancer and no hair, so why hide it, for who?
I continued to go for walks with Bella, she kept me occupied and distracted. She was still only settling in. Her wee face looking at me, wanting to play all the time. I tried to give her as much time as I could, as everything was going to change for her. We did a forest walk most days in Lough Navar, this is another of my favourite places, the views, the headspace to think, you just can’t get better. It also provided a lot of stimulation for Bella with the smells from wild deer, hare and whatever other natural wildlife was around.
The day arrived for my education session. Another drive to Derry. There were so many appointments! Given my work background this was fine, still overwhelming, but fine. I drove to Derry on my own. I’m self-reliant, always was. I remember my first week at Uni in Manchester, someone who I’d only known a couple of days described me as being self-sufficient. I’d never really thought of describing myself before, I wouldn’t have known how, I never thought of myself as someone who was seen, or who could be described. I thought about this and as time went on I understood it more. I’ve also been described as an introvert. I’d never have thought of myself as that, but as I’ve got older I would agree, I'm good at spending time on my own. Aswell, I realise more and more that I can find social situations difficult, especially when overthinking and anxiety creep in! I don't like being the centre of attention, I’m much happier to leave celebrations to other people. Also, I don’t always rely on others, because then there are no expectations. If I can do it myself, I will!
So, on the day for my education session I wasn’t just ready to give up my independence and, as I said, I drove there on my own. My father offered to take me, but I didn’t want to put him in the situation of coming to the Cancer Centre. It was bad enough having to go there because I had to. I like a good drive in the car anyway, music playing loudly, and singing the wrong lyrics, very badly, out of tune.
I arrived at the centre and in I went, big, brave girl on my own! I wasn’t really absorbing what was happening, it was all just happening to me and I was trying to maintain an air of grace and gratitude to everyone, all the while I was paddling like hell underneath! I met the person who was going to talk through chemotherapy with me, the side effects (again), what to expect, foods to avoid (although I was previously told I didn’t need to adjust my diet, certain foods needed to be avoided), the importance of hygiene, I didn’t want to get any infections as my immune system was going to be low and it would be difficult to fight them. I was told water bottles had to be washed regularly. The nurse emphasised the need for me to contact the helpline if there was anything of concern, any time - day or night. She said if I woke in the middle of the night, sick or with diarrhoea (a known side effect), to phone the helpline immediately, do not to wait until the morning, a quick response lessened the chances of dehydration and infection. What’s that now, I thought? That’s the bit that got me, sick in the middle of the night, possibly with diarrhoea, oh the thought?! Protective sheets were therefore to be added to the shopping list. All of a sudden my priorities were changing.
As I hadn’t seen the treatment room the nurse brought me to it. It was only going to be a couple of days until my first treatment. As we walked in I saw machines. It seemed to be a lot of machines! It smelled of a hospital ward, it reminded me of soup for some reason. I saw a nurse who was tending to a patient, she looked at me and smiled. It was in that moment and for the first time I thought, how am I here? As quick as that thought entered my head, it also left and I thought, why not me as otherwise it might just be someone else? I began to well up with tears, I tried to hold them back. The nurse realised and we quickly left.
As a cancer patient I had to understand my body and be aware of changes to know whether it was a side effect to the treatment and if I’d have to respond to it. I was given a thermometer as I had to take my temperature before phoning the helpline. This was all very overwhelming as I’ve never really been sick, and I wondered if I’d actually know if there was something I’d need to respond to. It seems very simple, but it was just such a lot to have to take in, in an extremely short space of time.
After meeting the nurse I went on to meet the pharmacist who talked through the list of medication I had to take. Holy god, so not only was there the chemo, and the phesgo (targeted treatment) but there was a list of steroids, anti-sickness tablets, the district nurse would be visiting to take bloods and to administer a pelmeg injection to boost white blood cell production. There were anti-diarrhoea tablets, this diarrhoea thing must be a real thing, I thought to myself! The thought of it. How to take the tablets, when to take the tablets, if something made me feel sick let them know and they could give me something else. There were tablets to counteract the affects of tablets. Whaaaaat?! I needed to get myself a diary, I needed to get myself organised otherwise this was all going to be very confusing. I was told if I didn’t take the steroids as directed then I couldn’t receive chemo. In as far as I could nothing was going to get in the way of me receiving chemo. There were 6 cycles on a 3 weekly basis, that was 18 weeks. This was not going to be going on for 19 weeks, this was an 18 week thing as far as I was concerned!
I left knowing more. I had my first bloods taken. I had my bag of medication. The next time I would be here would be for the real thing. Was I ready? No! But did I have to get on with it? Yes!! Was I going to go home and have a glass of wine? No! When the oncologist told me I could only have a little, little wine I decided to have a couple of glasses every night until the night before I was due to give blood. As it turned out, throughout treatment, wine was the last thing I thought of at anytime. So irrespective of whether I was allowed it or not, it wasn’t something I wanted.
After leaving the hospital I went to a few shops to get a diary and folder, but everywhere I went all I could think was cancer, ‘I have cancer’, I’d walk passed people and think ‘I have cancer’ and no-one knows. Well, word was beginning to get out. Paschal met a cousin, who he thought knew what was going on, and in the course of the conversation said I was in Derry as I was starting chemotherapy in a couple of days. I didn’t mind because I was going to talk about it anyway. However, I thought I’d better let my parents know in case they wanted to tell people before someone else told them, because I wasn’t keeping this secret, or private, it was all, that is cancer, open for discussion!