today is the first day of the rest of my life

Tuesday 9 May 2023 is another new landmark date for me in my journey through cancer.  I'll add it to 23 October 2014 (the date of my initial diagnosis), 9 July 2015 (the day of my stem cell transplant and therefore unofficial second "birthday") and finally 28 February 2023 (the date I learned of my relapse).

The reason for its addition?

Well, it's the day I start an intensive and likely very tiring and onerous nine weeks of drug therapy.  It involves twice-weekly visits to hospital for a series of injections which will hopefully slow down the further onset of this horrible disease.

And then after that?  Yet more but hopefully less regular treatments

I've been warned of the side-effects and am ready for nearly all of them.

This time around it all seems very different.  My initial diagnosis and everything that went with it happened at a hundred miles per hour.  There was no time to think and when things went wrong (and boy did they go wrong) there was even less time to reflect.

Contrast that with now, and I've had time to think - a lot.  I got the news of my relapse on 28 February, and didn't have a consultation until last week.  So, things have been churning around in my head.  And I think that has been for the worse sadly.

Anyway, back to side-effects...

The only one I can't really prepare for is the increased risk of infection and in particular sepsis. My immune system will be seriously compromised, to the effect that mixing with people indoors is to be avoided where possible.  And even outdoor activities will need to be carefully monitored in order to stay away from people in general where possible.

a nice pictture to help my mood!

I've had sepsis before.  It was particularly unpleasant, with the fever being the worst part about it that I can recall.  I remember one cold winter evening in hospital when I'd been stripped down to my underwear, sat in front of an open window and with no bed clothes on as despite intensive intravenous anti biotic treatment my temperature was just going up and up.  Dangerously so.

I begged the nursing staff for a blanket.  I even tried bribery but to no avail.  How can I be so hot and yet still so cold was my main thought.

So, after I start treatment, I have to monitor my temperature and contact the hospital if it gets too high.

My other major worry is blood clotting.  My first experience with chemotherapy back in 2015 saw me suffer a huge and near fatal saddle embolus on my right lung, despite me having twice-daily blood clotting injections at home.

I hate the unknown.  I've always been a meticulous planner and had contingencies in place for when my plans don't work out.  This next few months is just one big question mark and I want it over and done with!

An update:

It's now Tuesday evening, exactly twelve hours since I had my first injections at 11am.  It's not been a pleasant evening.  I'm feeling rather unwell, hot and clammy (sorry for the imagery) and have the mother of all headaches.  This is compounded by the fact that I'm not allowed to take paracetamol in case it masks any high temperature I may have, as this would entail a telephone call to hospital as I might have an infection.

The injections themselves weren't too bad.  They were into the flabby side of my stomach and aside from an unpleasant sting were not that painful.  I didn't experience any side-effects at the time so was allowed home after four hours or so.

If I still feel unwell in the morning I'll email my dedicated nurse for some advice.

Come on now.  This is me.  Did you (or I) really think things would run smoothly!?!?