Categories
Cancer

[CANCER] Where has the last week+ gone?

So, I last blogged 30th Jan, saying that breathlessness was becoming a big problem, but I was waiting for CT scan at the Christie (where they can use my portacath), and a biopsy for chest rash with surgeon at Wythenshawe.

Trying to Digest Dr Info

 

My head is spinning somewhat – but I find blogging about stuff a helpful way to process the information – and even more useful to direct people to … I don’t respond to ‘how are you today’ DMs as I tend to work on those on a group basis, and more direct qus as can manage the sense of information overwhelm/repetition more easily. I liked this article about The Bald Ballerina recently (and I’m still seeking info re social media and cancer):

When she was first diagnosed with cancer, Kudirka was encouraged by a former professor to keep a blog, either just for herself or to share with friends and family, to record all of the milestones on her new journey….

Initially, Kudirka limited her online audience to friends and family—it was just a way to keep them informed of how she was doing without individually contacting each person. Eventually, she made her site public and transformed it into an education and advocacy page.

NBC News

 

Scans

The CT scan got pulled forward to Wednesday 3rd, directly before the appointment in Wythenshawe (and the day after my first dose of COVID19 (AZ) vaccine: thankfully just ‘more fatigue’ and no other side effects).

The CT scan was hard work, trying to lie down flat – where seem to lose all access to air (any bending, any exertion, fine when sat with computer – but you know me and my walks/swimming that already missing). Andrew gave me a lift in, and I asked for wheelchair to radiography and back (missed Percy Pigs opportunity on way back as whizzed past M&S in my wheelchair).

Andrew then drove me onto Wythenshawe, where I got to see my original surgeon/breast nurses – he immediately said to have little expectation of ‘getting home tonight’ because breathing so bad – and started the process for admissions to acute ward – whilst continuing with the biopsy on the rash on my chest. Even amongst more tears there was laughter … the breast team like to ensure you have a ‘modesty gown’ on – so my surgeon made one from the blue paper roll.. nurses said no need for a fashion career. Lovely to be remembered fondly by the team – crap reason to have to be there (I was told to make sure I got to see Katy as well as Nicky before I left). 

Tiny biopsy from right breast where there was a rash that had been growing since November (also when fluid started collecting, and had first CT for breathlessness (which demonstrated small pleural effusion) – pretty painless, though required a couple of stitches because of the blood thinners I’ve been on since July. Initial thought was yes, this could be malignant, but also could be the oedema fluid collecting and pressurising (I am probably carrying maybe 10kg of extra fluid under the skin – pressing in all kinds of directions – unfortunately can’t just stick a pin in to drain it – complex lymphedema sleeves and compression massage, etc. (professional ones not currently possible in COVID times)). 

Been undecided about whether to post or not – but others with fears asking what look like (there are other nodules under the skin which I can feel, but can’t be seen:): 

 

Hospital Admission

So, last Wednesday evening, I got admitted to Wythenshawe acute ward … and Thursday the week after I’m still here, although we are in the process of talking about what we need for discharge to home. Friendly staff, my own side room/en suite, anti-pressure mattress not solid sponge, wi-fi that kind of works (phone signal that definitely does). 

In hospital we’ve been trying to deal mainly with chronic pain in the right upper body (probably caused by lymph nodes being blocked, cancer growing, and everything fighting for space and putting pressure on underlying muscle/bone structures (because a CT scan of the neck doesn’t show any cancer in the painful neck); and also with breathlessness – which doesn’t necessarily tie to low oxygen sats – and I’ve spent most of my week with one kind of oxygen mask or other on. Any kind of exertion has continued to cause problems. So what can I remember from this week (don’t be surprised if I remember something else and re-add): 

  • The first evening was spent in A&E/ED (whatever it’s called these days), being monitored, and trying to find someone to insert a portacath needle so that bloods could be taken (bearing in mind I now have lymphedema in both arms, very actively in the right side: we try and keep that skin unbroken otherwise = infections = cellulitis, etc.). The needle had changed, so just after we’d got bloods, it came out – so then had to decide whether one needed to stay in – for overnight went for ‘no’. so a needle free night After a speedy journey down some corridors, found myself in Bed 50, Ward A10 
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  • The next day (Thursday) was World Cancer Day (oh, let us raise some more awareness of the forgotten C please – though am also aware that there are many even more forgotten diseases), and I had to have a doppler inspection of my arm to ensure no clots down there (before allowed to put lymphedema sleeves on). Felt like a long day – and there was the joy of hospital food.
  • I think Friday comprised of talking about a lot of scans, but not managing to do quite as many – I had a nose/throat inspection (that was fun – COVID test magnified (and oh yeah, get one of those every 3 days too)). At this stage we wanted a CT of neck (and port needle back in), a fine needle aspiration of thyroid as apparently have a ‘goitre‘ – possibly pushing windpipe out of alignment (but again, probs not enough to be causing the problem, but I can definitely hear that squeak in my breathing), plus an echo of the heart (is there fluid around it?). Think this was also the evening that Helen was able to safely visit, bringing some cherries/raspberries (fave fruits), and seeing if there were suggestions to make me more comfortable! That means had visits from the acute oncology team, the palliative care team (remember, it’s not all about ‘end of life’, it’s about giving better quality of life/symptom management – possibly for many years), ward doctors, various nurses and specialists – so a friendly face at the end of all that was much appreciated (yes, I love digital, but I also love f2f meetups too – it’s not an either/or for me!). 
  • Trying to work out what happened over the weekend – even on Instagram the days are blurring… but I finally got my CT scan (and ironically had to be cannulated, but we used the left-not-so-distended-arm – where I do have ONE good vein in my elbow! That needle finally came out today; port needle still in).  Ended up with 15l of oxygen being pumped through and head lifted on a pillow -but very calm team – got it done. Did have a laugh with the porters who tried to take me back to the ward before I’d had my scan – ‘hey, I’ve been waiting 3 days for this scan’… one of my continued #OpinionMinutes that evening (along with hospital decor, access to own medsthe learning experience, etc)… and I think I managed to get pizza delivered to the hospital (courtesy of Helene).
  • The pain really ramped up over the weekend into Monday – largely down right hand side of neck (across to shoulder and partway down back). So fentanyl patch was upped from 12mg to 25mg, pregabalin upped from 50mg to another 75mg twice day, more oxygen, more pillows (using lots of audio books as can’t sit in a position to read well), continued baseline of paracetamol 4 x day, and by this point having quite a lot of morphine every couple of. hours – was a bit like someone trying to ram a steel rod through at some points. Was also recommended to try a TENS machine – so we borrowed a pregnancy one (half strength of pain ones) – got it going full strength and it’s doing something… now awaiting the new stronger one which YODEL took away again today – hopefully they’ll try the neighbors tomorrow…
  • Andrew and Jane had continued to be couriering stuff in & out, tests determine that I have areas of pleural effusion both bottom left lung and top right lung – but these are only a couple of cm each and not drainable; the pressure on my thyroid is deemed not to be big enough – so the aspiration biopsy has gone off the list at the moment… 

New Tumour(s)

  • Tuesday brought, amongst other things, 1kg of dried mango in the post (severe shortage of vitamins etc in my food), the TENS machine, a conversation with the surgeon in which he said “I’m sorry, but the skin rash is malignant, we don’t know what receptors yet, and we can’t do surgery on that/the armpit right now’ (and I knew I had a conversation with the oncologist to come Weds).Also the day to start on dexamethasone (THAT steroid that Trump sent even more insane tweets on).. it’s the one responsible for the term ‘roid rage.. also known as ‘Dexy’s Midnight Runners’ for the insomnia it causes.Think also had the echo this afternoon – and that was not a good experience (or was that Weds – who knows)  Andrew was able to pop in briefly, as was Lee (friend and minister from my URC church), in amongst conversations with specialists and all sorts.. 
  • Wednesday morning was spent getting clear on what wanted to talk to oncologist about in the afternoon (usually do the day before and email in, but anyway) … a chat with the palliative team (working on symptom management for pain/breathlessness) – pain thankfully reducing – spacing morphine out 4-hourly by choice as TENS and heat jacket both work away… Lovely little video sent from Karen on French beach, and then lovely old memory pic (I’m up for more living memory pics – got them all over the house).
  • Wednesday afternoon, palliative nurse came to join conversation with oncologist (originally planned f2f, but breathing so bad, we reverted to telephone). I was feeling that convo was challenging as deal with new tumour and what option(s) that brings, and was doing OK til he asked ‘I need to check that you want to continue with treatment’ (I think this is now a pretty routine question, but felt loaded/unexpected to me), and the nurse watched my face crumple. But essentially, capecitabine is clearly not working (already – annoying as side effects were minimal/well-managed), so we’re now waiting on a d-dish test – is there herceptin in my new tumours (this is not a routine test, so having to wait a bit longer based on an indeterminate previous test). If there is, then I will start on Kadcyla as next chemotherapy, if not, then I’m still triple negative and onto Eribulin. We’re hoping the test will be back for Monday afternoon MDT and then a phone call – so hopefully can go into Christies on Weds and talk next chemo. 
  • Thankfully knowing this call was coming, then had long chat with palliative nurse about how do we start to move me out of hospital, what now, etc. and Lee also returned with communion (one very large hot cross bun as bread) and calming conversation, and thanks to the Giles for providing Chinese (took the nurse’s recommendation)) – way too much food and can’t reheat anything on ward, so sent main meal back with Andrew and Jane today after it spent night in a fridge – hope it’s a tasty as it looked! Given extra oxygen for the evening, but asked to change as couldn’t work out how to sleep in it.,..

Where Now?

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  • So, we come to today … dealing with conversations over last 24 hours about Stannah Stairlifts, a week in a hospice, need for carers, including this morning help with shower (which I never wanted – but as Andrew said – you never wanted any of this, did you – good point!). All conversations I’ve associated with ‘end of life’ care – which as I’ve always said – can come to any of us with mets quickly – and things do feel like they are growing rather rampantly … but doesn’t necessarily mean this – so I need more conversations with oncologist – a simple question about prognosis last summer feels like it’s taken on connotations – and I either need to get my head around bad news and find a way to make the most of time, or I need to stop assuming the worst… a complete head messer. And this all on top of 1 hour of sleep in bed, 1 hour nodded off in chair (despite top dose of zopiclone AND oramorph)!
  • Andrew was allowed in for a short visit again, bringing a few things from others (and my laptop, hence managing to blog) – and yeah, I’ve killed all the data on my phone as 4G is better than Wifi – usually have 12GB pm allocated, but now paid another £20 and buys me unlimited for next 19 days – so netflix post-blog I reckon – or maybe I will actually fall asleep (which I didn’t really last night). 
  • Hospital doctor says there’s a couple more things they want to try, then can look at how to get home – maybe over the weekend. Tonight I’ll be wearing an oximeter attached to a fitbit type thing – sending them data all night. 6am they’ll come and take it away, and take a blood reading from my earlobe (done twice already this week) – then come back and talk about what my oxygen needs might be at home (if any) – will take oxygen off for evening, unless drops below 88 (usually 94 is drop-off point, I think, and most people will have sats of 98-100/100). We’re also trying am mild diuretic as didn’t get great ECHO images – so seeing if there is any impact on fluid around the heart. Dexamethasone was all given this morning in hope might get some sleep, and tomorrow will be halved – doesn’t seem to be helping breathing, although maybe is helping pain? Indicates that probably not an infection either, pretty confident with level of blood thinners I’m on/scans I’ve had that don’t have blood clots… so that’s really where the hospital experience can start to work towards discharge… 
  • One of the things I’ve been resisting is a Stannah stairlift – which I can rent from Stockport Council (£150 for 3 months, then rolling £50pm after that if still needed), but expecting to give the go-ahead for this. This will probably take a week to put in, so seeing if we can get a room at St Ann’s Hospice for a week – get some specialist input on breathing/pain, some caring, better bed/food, then hopefully get home (being well looked after by Andrew and Jane, and my neighbours), and put into place a care package of support. Hopefully if/as the new chemo works, things can improve and can start to shed some of these services, or continue them as needs be … trying not to over-think/plan (very hard). All these are aspects of life I thought I might have to worry about in a couple of years – so it does bring big questions about what life is going to look like now (and yes, has been serious conversations with work, where I’m now on half-pay)…. Having got my head into accepting all that stuff – then of course let’s hope there’s a Stannah installation slot and a bed free at the hospice (other option is can come home, live upstairs short-term, with food being bought up to me by carers/friends). 
  • All a bit ‘big pants, yes pants with a big gusset’ (as my friend Justin used to say) – lots of uncertainty – lots of overwhelm… may have forgotten some things, but this is already a long blog post, and I think it’s time to wind down… (had ward doctor, palliative and acute teams round today, and community nurse on the phone)

Support

So, in all this, I want to thank people for their continued (non-pressurised) support. Energy is low, task-focus is low, got some people want to see, stuff want to write – and will just have to work out what I can! I think people have got used to waiting for me to do Insta/FB updates, and especially these longer updates – I used to ‘like’ every comment – but now I read, enjoy, appreciate, may not ‘like’, and may not reply to DMs that I think I’ve already covered in a public update!

  •  I was doing socially distanced/masked walks with people – but as I’m struggling to walk anywhere … thanks to Andrew and Jane for ongoing visits and support, and Suzanne for dropping by with food and back cushion… of course when COVID lets us, I have my awning/patio heater and firepit – please do come join … and if I improve lots, I want to do a bit of a UK tour so will be looking for spare bed offerings! Zoom calls and #BexParty continue as energy allows … worth suggesting dates/times to me .. not necessarily all that immediate week .. and being flex with cancellations!
  • My cousin Hannah who is liasing with A&J, and my mum (also hoping to get here), and a few other people – and hoping to come and do some more visiting as per Christmas (yeah, she can be a carer, but she’s got some Netflix to catch up on, you know); Lee who is making the most of her ministerial position to be able to make hospital stay more bearable – as will Helen when on site. 
  • My friend Claire has been pointing people in the direction of takeaway vouchers, my wishlist, financial contributions – people say they want to help – so trying to make it easy (including ideas for food I enjoy – esp fancy fruits!) – as can be quite overwhelming coming up with ideas … amazing how much stuff you realise you don’t need when you don’t know that you’ve got years to go… but are things like hydrotherapy sessions and carers may need to pay for, and if I end up not working (looking very likely), a very stripped back income!
  • My other friend Claire who is working on the backend/theme of my website as I tidy up some content (it’s 5+ years since I had a theme change)
  So thanks for all your messages, likes, DMs. I certainly don’t expect the wonderful volumes that I get – and love it when my friends end up randomly talking to each other – reduces the overwhelm/pressure on me … and of course – the big posts come with big responses – but hopefully there’s still a long-haul to go with this, so come along on this crappy experience (keep trying to put my ‘life explorer’ hat back on – ooo, let’s explore what it’s like to stay in a hospice) – read general messages/blogs before sending DMs asking me to repeat myself is super appreciated, funny memes, remembering Bex pre-cancer – and still being Bex with cancer … well, does this tired but thankful Bex make any sense to you…. cos she’s off to watch some Netflix downloaded to the phone!

An Optional Challenge

And also, much as I hate chain/tag people in things – do partake in this that my friend came up with on Facebook if you like (copy/paste/complete, make public if you like) – let’s enjoy some good memories whilst life feels tough! 

Hi Everyone!
Who will join me in the Boost Bex Challenge?
Our beautiful Bex Lewis is having a PANTS time. We can’t take away the illness, but we can make her smile!

When you have 5 minutes, please copy the questions below (some are for our interest & some are for hers)! Fill in your answers – funny or serious, add a picture if you have one, and tag other people who might be interested (but not pressurised) to join: 

I think Bex is: 

I met her: 

I admire her because: 

I love her because: 
Categories
Cancer

[CANCER] Participation in Trials

Within the last 3.5 years, I have been involved in a a number of cancer-related trials (clinical trials and quality of life trails are both important):

Optima

This trial is looking at testing tissue samples to try and find if you might benefit from having chemotherapy to treat your breast cancer: there is a sense that chemotherapy is over-prescribed, so the hope is that less people will need to have it. It gave me a 25% chance of skipping chemotherapy, although did end up delaying the start of chemotherapy by a couple of weeks – the waiting was exhausting (but obviously I still wanted to feed into the research for future patients, so held tight!). The trial was a double-blind trial so I’ll never know if I was in the 50% who was told to ‘continue with the plan developed by the oncologist’ (the control arm), or the 50% who had my tumour tested, and it determined that I would need the chemotherapy.

This was a really simple trial to be involved in, with no input from me at the beginning except agreeing to having the tumour tissue that had been taken at biopsy/mastectomy stage to be reused for testing. 3 months, 6 months, 12,24 and 36 months later, I then had to fill in a questionnaire as to whether there had been any progression, any ongoing side effects, and a sense of the time and cost that I had had to pay (e.g. petrol/parking).

Trial website

SRS @ The Christie

I was invited to join a trial at The Christie when my spinal metastases were identified. This would have given me a 50% chance of having stereotactic radiotherapy – previously used largely for brain, but now an opportunity for a small number of tumours of a small size (3 under 3cm) on the spine:

Stereotactic radiotherapy (SRT) gives radiotherapy from many different angles around the body. The beams meet at the tumour. This means the tumour receives a high dose of radiation and the tissues around it receive a much lower dose. This lowers the risk of side effects. Usually you have between 1 and 8 treatments. Cancer Research UK.

When I came to sign up for the trial, it was full, though I would still have been permitted to join it, but there was also a programme ongoing through The Christie itself which meant that I could definitely have SRS without being part of the trial. So, I went ahead – with a planning session, a stressful (unsuccessful) first session, then 3 very successful treatments welded into place with a customised head cage .. the scan afterwards demonstrated that I was NEAD (No Evidence of Active Disease).

Website information

LIBERATE

Developed by Breast Cancer Now and University of Leeds, this website is designed to help those with secondary breast cancer to access quality information, find out about support groups, and also monitor symptoms such as fatigue, bowel habits, nail effects, mental health, etc (largely for patient use to feed into their medical team, as I understand it).

For the purposes of the trial, once a week for 12 weeks, we completed the monitoring survey, and submitted (if wanted a copy of own form, needed to manually add email address so could be sent, so everything truly anonymised). I also fed back some thoughts about the structure/interactivity of the website (because of my specific professional training). I will also be participating in a 30-60 minute phone interview next week with the team, to aid as they seek to get the material to a publishable stage.

Trial Website

CELEBRATE

Undertaken by Sheffield Hallam Radiotherapy Department: ‘CommEmorating the Last Event, calling time on the end of treatment Bell following RAdioThErapy: The CELEBRATE study’ questions what is happening when patients use ‘End of Treatment Bells’, and whether it’s time to remove them from UK hospitals. See my video from that evening:

@drbexlAnother ##OpinionMinute – no leaks from the focus group, but the kind of thinking I went into it with – re ##EndOfTreatmentBell

? original sound – Bex Lewis

SafeFit

The most recent trial which I have agreed to participate in (so long as oncologist signs me off as medically fit for it) is this new study, which recognises that COVID-19 has interfered with the movement and nutrition aspects of cancer patients lives. Research demonstrates that keeping moving and eating nourishing food does have a positive impact upon cancer patient outcomes – although very much at a time when patients are dealing with fatigue, low energy, and this doesn’t necessarily feel top of the pile. So far, I have had a conversation with one of the team, been sent some questionnaires to complete – when my oncologist is happy (re breathing, lymphedema, etc.) then I can be partnered with a trainer, who will engage (online) with me, 3 x week for first month, then decreasing frequency until final month is just one session (in the hope that will have embedded the learning in everyday lives.

Trial Website

I definitely need to keep an eye out for clinical trials – they are desperately needed for secondary patients who have run through the regular treatment options!

Featured Photo by Emily Morter on Unsplash

Categories
Cancer

[CANCER] Time to Start Capecitabine

It’s not even a week since I updated about my cancer situation, but here’s a little more information.

Capecitabine is a type of chemotherapy called an anti metabolite. The body changes capecitabine into a common chemotherapy drug called fluorouracil. It stops cells making and repairing DNA. Cancer cells need to make and repair DNA so they can grow and multiply. Cancer Research UK

Weekend

Well, the weekend was lovely, having seen in New Year’s Eve at 9pm on 31st, then got absorbed in Bridgerton on Friday, and the weekend with walks, meals, online chats, reading, and me making my photo book!

 

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A reminder that dealing with cancer is not about surviving because of courage and positivity:

 

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Monday

Monday morning I made an effort to arrive early so could have my bloods, then go to appointment with oncology registrar – but got sent straight to waiting room for registrar (where I waited half-hour plus – pretty normal), then got sent to wait in a treatment room ready to talk…  then it was time to sign that I’d read the leaflets about the new drug (capecitabine), including that I know that death is a possible side effect, before heading back to the chemotherapy ward to have my bloods done:

 

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Bloods typically take an hour or so to come back, so thankfully, there was some spare lunch on offer, and I settled in with my phone. I won’t always have to wait for my bloods to return, but this week I’m having my denosumab, which takes calcium from my blood and puts it into my bones, so we need to know how my blood/calcium are doing!

Whilst we were waiting for that, then it was time for a chat with the pharmacist, who gave me 14 days worth of tablets. The plan is that I will take 4 tablets in the morning (around 9.30am), and 4 in the evening (around 7.30pm) – minimum 10 hour gap between tablets, maximum 12, and always no longer than half an hour after food. I take the tablets for 2 weeks, then get a week without them, before returning to the oncology ward for more bloods, discussions, and to collect the next 3 weeks of tablets/side-effect drugs. I’ve had the DYPD test, so the expectation is that I shouldn’t get the worst of these side effects, but there’s a nice visual of what to look out for, and at what point to ring the ward or 24/7 ‘chemo line’ at the Christie – although the final one on the list is a 999 job!!

Tik-Tok

I summarised the expected side-effects in this Tik-Tok (although the hand-foot syndrome is the most expected, so I have some gel socks, lots of hand gel, and we’ll see what else is required). Pharmacist also gave loperamide and specialist cream for hands/feet – and we wait and see.

@drbexlLess of an ##OpinionMinute and more of a ##cancer update! ##BusyLivingWithMets and about to start capecitabine.? original sound – Bex Lewis

Tuesday

Last night I also added another codeine-patch, as registrar thinks it was co-incidence that I was sick after putting the second one on before. I have a 5mg BuTrans patch, now have 10mg with 2 patches on – experimenting before asking for 10mg patches. There’s a lot of pain still in my right shoulder/armpit, and all the extra fluid in my arm is deeply uncomfortable – I’ve been referred to the lymphedema unit, and have an electric heat pad (which helps whilst it’s on!), doing my physio, and trying to massage the fluid around, as well as wearing my sleeve/gloves which were designed for my other arm…!

This morning I got up in time to take the first set of tablets – with some chocolate cookies as my food (plan to make some muffins, etc), and so far (aside from irritation at the GP message system) I just feel somewhat drowsy so far … let’s hope that becomes it…

 

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Categories
Cancer

[CANCER] A rather exhausted update

It was only a couple of weeks ago that I updated everyone as to where we were at on treatment, that I’d had a pleural effusion (fluid on the lungs) identified, though oncologist thinks that it’s the toxicity of the treatment causing breathing issues, rather than the effusion itself .. Still very tired, planned to write this yesterday, but nope … but after watching a Zoom nativity this morning, and a catch up session with the Beyond Choc team (A Truly Nourished Christmas, anyone? : a reminder that we asked ourselves ‘I appreciate myself for…’ ‘… getting out of bed every day despite the brown and smelly nature of much of my life right now’…) … wanted to get the basics out of my head…

Treatment?

I have therefore had a couple more treatments of paclitaxel, although the dose has been reduced by 20% overall each time (and no, that doesn’t mean 20 minutes less in the treatment chair). I will have another treatment tomorrow, a break for Christmas week, and then the 18th planned treatment on 29th December. My skin rash has cleared up on my arms, face still breaking out somewhat (but this face mask helps, along with some prescribed lotion), and breathing has improved. I’ve also had a telephone consult with ENT, who have given me Sterimar to take for a month, alongside the Nasceptin that I already had from chemo 3 years ago! Nose still pretty drippy/bloody, but my voice has stopped sounding ‘stretched’. Peripheral neuropathy is still a problem, but we think not getting worse on this reduced dose – important to try and keep on top of – as impacts on ability to be independent. Pain killers and stomach medications also abound everywhere. So, when the oncologist said that we’d keep going with paclitaxel ’til the toxicity got too much’, that appears to be now (I thought I’d be on it for a year or two, maybe, but apparently it’s unusual to get people who manage more than 24 treatments). As we’re coming off it for the purposes of toxicity, rather than for tumour progression, we can apparently return to it further down the line, when required (erm, joy). We’ll see what/if paclitaxel has done, with my next scan on 9th January.

So on 4th January, I will be starting on capecitabine, a tablet (rather than IV) based chemotherapy (commonly known as ‘cape’). A couple of weeks ago a blood test for DPD was sent off, and apparently came back fine, but we want to try and finish the course of paclitaxel first. I don’t know how I’ll respond to it – both in terms of whether it’s effective in reducing, or at least maintaining, my tumour size, and also what side-effects will decide to make themselves known – sounds like fatigue, stomach issues, mouth ulcers, and sore hands/feet are quite common – but my hair may come back… though I may lose my fingerprints! I’ll go into the oncology ward every 3 weeks for a blood test, and to pick up new tablets. Friends who are/have been on it, say that it’s much more ‘manageable’, but again, how long will it work for even if so … some people say ‘oh, I got 6 months on that’, others, like with the H&P I was on, are 5 years down the line with it.. no one can tell – either before you go on it, or once you’re on it – one scan be amazing (like mine was last November, with NEAD), and the next can be a large tumour (like mine this June/July) … cancer is entirely unpredictable….

Work?

And this brings me to something that I’ve been wrestling with over the past few weeks… whether I am fit to return to work, currently obviously my specific job, and in general, any job at all. Obviously, I’ve worked incredibly hard to get where I am, and kept saying ‘can’t die until I’m a professor’ (which is 2 promotions away), but after nearly 6 months off sick, rather than getting better, I’m still struggling to get out of bed, to concentrate, though I’m doing a few bits and pieces that I enjoy. I have half sick pay that runs from mid-January til mid-July, although there’s a possible voluntary severance scheme to consider – which is largely separate from the question of taking ill-health retirement. So, lots of conversations with others who have been through the same turmoil (some managed to return, some left), with some friends and family (off social media), and, obviously, work. If I stayed on the paclitaxel, I think it would be pretty cut and dried that I’m not fit, but it would be good to see how the new drug impacts upon my life/concentration, etc. Obviously, I still feel there are things that I want to stay/contribute to life, but can I do them in my current job (with reasonable adjustments), or will I have to find other ways to still find life’s meaning… If I could sell tears, I’d be very rich…

Alongside all these questions, although everyone of course hopes that I may be an ‘outlier’, and live for 10, 15, 21+ years, the stats are not amazing for metastatic cancer at all (over 10,000 people have died from metastatic cancer this year), with 2-3 years a more typical ‘average’, and possibly not even that good for triple negative cancer. Obviously these are not pleasant thoughts to have to engage with at the age of 45, and talking to the pensions people – sounds like I’d have a great pension if I retired at 67, but if I have to take it now, it’s either a very low amount of money (but allowed to/would need to work), a small but more manageable amount of money (but ‘incapacitated’, not a speck of work allowed), or, if the oncologist reckons that under 12 months is a feasible likelihood, then 5 x the manageable amount + a small lump sum as a tax free lump sum (not enough to quite pay off the mortgage, which even if I did would leave me with nothing to live on, and why would I want to!). This is where thinking about friends – those who went from healthy to dead in a very short space of time AND those who were predicted 6 months and still here 7+ years later … leaves questions about needing to still prepare financially in case one of the ‘lucky ones’ – so many unknowns! How many times have I wished that I had ill-health insurance on my mortgage… though friends/family keep telling me I am not alone in all this!! I keep telling myself I’m thankful that doing up the house is at least done, so hopefully can stay and enjoy being here … mixed with ‘come on the COVID vaccine’ so I can go and see people again!!

Anyway, it’s been nice to be able to get a few (socially distanced) walks in with responsible friends and my bubble family, and do a little bit of video recording – even got round to putting my Christmas tree up! Also, am still keeping the postman busy – not only with my medications, but also some lovely gifts – especially from Beyond Chocolate friends over the past few weeks… lovely firepit to try out, some nibbles, some netflix, and some Tropic goodies!

Opinion Minute

I’ve still carried on my experimentation most evenings with giving (video) expression to my thoughts for a maximum of 60 seconds (via Tik-Tok) – and the one last night was about misuse of disabled parking spaces:

@drbexlToday’s ##OpinIonMinute (having just watched ##Strictly), about the use of ##Disabled parking spaces. ##BusyLivingWithMets? original sound – Bex Lewis

See all Tik-Toks

Christmas?

Well, no one can say that it’s not an unusual Christmas this year .. COVID has thrown many people’s plans in the air (well, responsible people anyway). I’m not sure I’m fit enough to drive 6+ hours to my parents, and I don’t want to get the train into London/tube/train; I don’t want my parents driving on some of the busiest days of the year either, so hopefully we’ll do Christmas in January again (as we did last year, after I had my oophorectomy). I posted all the Christmas presents I was organised enough to do last month, and I typically do an e-Christmas card on here + a few cards for the neighbours! Been enjoying some simple Advent prompts too..

Thankful to have my bubble family to spend Christmas with – I’m taking a Sicilian chocolate panettone (from A Tavola), some pigs in blankets and a bottle of port … and anything else that may already be in my cupboards, because don’t have another Christmas shopping food slot! My cousin is coming from London, so has already been isolating, will buy a test, and find an empty train carriage to come up here … I’m really looking forward to having some company – and someone who doesn’t mind that I’m not awake for huge chunks of the day!

Categories
Cancer

[CANCER] New Treatment?, Treatment Break and Pleural Effusion #BusyLivingWithMets

I last blogged a couple of weeks ago, when I’d been sent home, breathless, without treatment. I had hoped that a treatment break would mean that I felt amazing, but, although my skin has cleared up a lot, and a lot of sensation has returned to my hands/fingers (not all!), mostly I still feel super sleepy/de-energised, and we’re undecided if my breathing is improving…

Really appreciate those who wait for these updates, or send queries without expectation of reply – several days behind on messaging this week .. so here it comes:

Alongside cancer taking over my life, I have managed to do an interview with UCB on cyberbullying, had a welfare chat with work, started experimenting with short opinion videos on Tik-Tok, pre-recorded with The Hopeful Activists (re grief and hope) – which should be out next Friday, had my car serviced, my house alarm serviced, had an overdue opticians appointment (yes, my sight is worse, probably partly due to age, and partly due to chemo!), put away my large COOK delivery (in amongst other house tasks), and had some lovely time with my bubble. I’ve also attended a scarf-tying workshop, listened to a session on ‘Hybrid Church’ hosted by Fidge, and took part in a panel alongside Rev Pam Smith and Rev Dr Pete Phillips – also on ‘Hybrid Church’…. and yeah, am likely spending Christmas in Manchester.

Treatment Date 16?

Last Monday I went back in for treatment, but we knew that if my breathing was still a problem, I’d be sent to see the on-call oncologist. Obviously my COVID test had come back negative, and I exhibit no symptoms anyway, but that had had to be crossed off the list of possibles… Was it going to be treatment 15, delayed, or…

My bloods were taken (as they take at least an hour to process anyway, and if treatment was to go ahead, we wanted to make sure those were done/we had the information). I then went to talk to the oncologist … he said he could see that I was ‘visibly breathless’, and although it could be fatigue from the treatment, something psychosomatic, he wanted to check in case it was a blood clot on the lungs, so said I needed a CT-AP.

CT-Scan

Collecting my things, we trotted off to the Ambulatory Care Unit, where I was put into a chair, more questions/forms/people introduced to me (always quite overwhelming), and they said although I have a port in for my bloods, outside of the oncology unit, no one is trained to use them – so a cannula had to go in. I’m SO hard to cannulate – so they sent their top person – after trying on the back of my hand, he got it in on the inside of my wrist (yeah, as uncomfortable as you’d think, spent all afternoon asking how soon it could be taken out!). I was then sent back to the oncology ward to have some more blood taken (from my port), as oncologist wanted to see how fast I’m metabolising my Clexane blood thinners…

Back to the ACU, popped into a different chair (with some lovely NHS soup, sandwiches and ice cream), until the CT scanner was ready for me – the cannula was used to feed the dye into me so they can light up different parts of my body (I know, such a medical explanation!)… before being guided back to the ACU to await the results (and yes, everyone’s on their own, there’s lots of safety procedures before going in/out of different areas of the hospital). Bearing in mind that I got to hospital about 10.30am, it was gone 8pm before the results of the scan came back – I didn’t have a blood clot on my lung ‘so that’s the good news, but you do have some fluid on your lower-left lung’ (pleural effusion).

I recorded this when I got home (and had just climbed the stairs, so my breathing was particularly bad) – before I crashed into bed (the following morning could hear a squeak of protest from my lungs):

 

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Tuesday

Tuesday was mostly about sleep, housework, watching the webinar, and reality TV:

 

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Wednesday: The Christie

After much faffing around in the morning, Andrew picked me up to take to the Christie – as I’d sent quite a few challenging questions to my oncologist, and as I can’t take people in, at least I’d have a friendly face (and no need to drive) at the end. A lot of waiting at the Christie – bloods were done fast (and the nurse remembered me from when I’d come in for my new tumour diagnosis in July – once she’d seen past my purple wig)… and then it was all about waiting to speak to the oncologist – appointment was 3.30pm – I think it was gone 5pm by the time I went in (and the waiting room was v empty)!

 

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Forgot to press record (can be useful when on own and trying to capture notes as well as have a conversation to listen back afterwards – for private use only, obviously!), but we talked through quite a few things (maybe not everything on my list, so I’m trying to talk to nurses to get more of that) but:

  • The pleural effusion, on the scans, looks too small to treat (drain or pack) without causing bigger problems – so thinks that the breathlessness is down to toxicity side effects from the paclitaxel…
  • Monday: continue with paclitaxel treatment, with a further 10% reduction on the dosage and see how I respond.
  • The scan has also shown that the tumours haven’t grown any further (it’s only been about 5 weeks since my last one, although that is enough time for some eager tumours…)
  • Whilst my bloods are taken Monday, they’ll take an extra one, and send it off to see if I’m suitable for capecitabine (link to PDF) (commonly known as cape) – a drug that is tablet based (not IV), 2 weeks with tablets, 1 without.
    • Some people cope with this really well (onc pulled a face when I said ‘for 5 years, so guessing not expecting it to last that long), fatigue, sore hands/feet, nausea sound like quite common…
    • I’ve found it quite funny that lots of people say I look particularly well this last week or so … yes, I’m not having any treatment, so my body may be continuing to eat itself inside! Also, I put makeup on one day!
  • If I am suitable for cape, I can choose to start taking it, and see how long it works for – and return to paclitaxel afterwards (as it does seem to be keeping things stable, possibly even shrinking the tumours, though the shrinkage may just be down to radiotherapy). Usually you can’t return to a line of treatment finished – but in this case because we’re taking a break for toxic side effects, and not because the tumour has grown, it remains available as an option.
  • I asked about other treatment options beyond this (I have no idea how long any of these treatment options last, but I was due to have paclitaxel for 18 weeks, then ongoing, and have not even completed that). After cape, Eribulin is a possible option, then the ‘platinums‘… but TNBC (triple negative breast cancer) does not have the hugest number of treatment options (or the kindest) – so I will need to keep talking to those in my groups about what other options people have tried (without going down the desperate and weird routes that the vulnerable often seem to attempt).

The last couple of days have been busy, and I’m seeking to chat a bit more with some of the nurses about some of the questions that still feel unanswered. I have oncology ward nurses, Macmillan palliative care nurses, district nurses, specialist secondary breast care nurses at the Christie, the oncologist, the GP, the pharmacy team … lots of people to talk to – though sometimes it feels like you’ve being bounced between them!

Palliative Care

If you think that palliative care is all about ‘end of life’, please watch this so you have a better idea. I know that I am being treated with ‘palliative intent’:

 

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