‘The day before the oncologist’

Apologies for my absence over the last couple of days, it’s been, well , very difficult.

As the title suggests we have been building up to the day that we have been dreading ever since I came around from the anaesthetic 7 weeks ago. The conversation with the oncologist. I know that many people who are fighting the disease feel the same, and although my personal situation could be worse it is still an anxious period, as there are still some unknowns and complications particularly as I will undertaking chemotherapy with a stoma (little simon).

The outcome of tomorrow will define our lives for the next few months and potentially for ever.

Being analytical (which sometimes I wish I wasn’t) I have spent many sleepless nights in the last few weeks wondering ‘how is this going to work?’ .

By that I mean if I am on the same ‘regime’ (oxaliplatin infusion & Capacitabin tablets) how will Little Simon affect the success rate.

For one the chemotherapy causes virulent diarrhoea, bad enough with an intact and in place colon, take that away and discharging ‘water’ through my side is going to seriously cause me dehydration problems.

Secondly (this is my analytical brain at work) I already know that absorption is an issue with my stomach/ilium, hence the restricted diet eat al.

This also extends into certain tablets that I can/ cannot take as they will not be absorbed during the brief passage through my system. Mmmmmm, this stresses me greatly.

You see ‘cappy’ aren’t exactly small (the above picture represents a complete cycle) The first time I had them I didn’t know if I had to swallow them or stick them up my backside. Now you see where I’m coming from, ‘they don’t dissolve, QED they won’t be effective’ let alone getting wedged in little Simon. This along with other morbid thoughts regarding my mortality have conspired to take me to a very dark place.

No end of ‘keeping busy, cycling, or otherwise active’ has been able to lift me through this enveloping fog of depressive anxiety. Despite being surrounded by loving support from friends and family it can at times be a very lonely place.

Once again I have dipped into the superb support provided by MacMillan both from their clinical expertise and the psychological support they are able to provide, but ultimately they can’t make it right, and right now that’s all I want. I want someone to say “it’s all going to be ok”, but they can’t.

We hope that after tomorrow we will know the direction we are going. I like to have something to aim towards, that may be physical recovery, or in the case of chemotherapy it’s a target date when you complete the cycles.

The blog here on in will reset the counter, and will reflect my next challenge namely chemotherapy ‘Cycle 1 day x’ and so on and so forth. It promises to be different to the physical recovery, tougher, much much tougher. My resolve will be tested to the absolute max.

I hope that you choose to stay with me, your thoughts and good wishes are like the metaphorical 12th man in the football pitch.

Here we go…