Damn, this sucks!

I haven't posted in a while, I just haven't wanted to. The treatment got very bad over the final weeks, and I really wan't in any state to write about it.

My treatment program said I'd be finished on the 24th Feb, but at the last minute my Radiotherapy Oncologist said that I'd somehow missed some sessions and needed to have more radiotherapy sessions. I finally finished on the 1st March.

By this stage, I had stopped eating and drinking completely. I had lost 18kgs and hadn't opened my bowels for close to three weeks.

Despite the advice from medical professionals, my refusal to do as they said to get my bowels moving ultimately caused me such pain in the lower abdomen that I had no choice. I had a condition apparently called 'impaction', where waste is so dry and voluminous it cannot get out and just plugs up the last remaining hole to the outside. I was in tears the pain was unbearable, but it forced me to take the action that I should have taken over a week previously. I endured the pain, I don't know how, and eventually things started moving, slowly at first, and then in small and frequent intervals. At that stage, I would have accepted anything.

After 3 days of being practically incapacitated with pain, I managed to get past it.

Only problem was, my troubles were only just beginning.

I felt crook all of the time. The chemotherapy drug was accumulating in my body and it was having all sorts of effects on my health. From constant fatigue, dry skin, fissures, feeling generally unwell, no appetite and inability to keep food down, I was lucky if I could do even one hour of work a day and do more than just lie down on the couch or bed. It was very hard.

At this stage, the daily radiotherapy doses had accumulated so that my neck was a dark red from my ears to my chest. Imagine being severely sunburn every day. After one day of being sunburn, you would normally stay out of the sun until it healed. I had no such luxury. Everyday, I was back under the mask, getting radiated again.

Eventually, this took its toll. The radiotherapy nurses tried their best to alleviate the pain I was feeling in my neck, but the paraffin and sorbalene dressing they applied simply wasn't up to the job. Neither were the Fentanyl patch or Panadein or Panadol.

One day, the pain was so bad, I spent the entire morning on my back in our ensuite shower with a trickle of cold water running across my neck. It was the best relief I could muster. When Vic's dad came to pick me up to take me to hospital, I was in excruciating pain. When we got to the Radiotherapy ward I walked straight into the nurses offices and begged them to help me. The head nurse took off to find a doctor to prescribe Lignocaine ointment to mix with the paraffin, as this would anaesthetise my neck under the now huge dressing that was being applied around my neck. While the prescription was being filled, I had another Radiotherapy session. Because my neck was so sore, I could not comfortably lay under the mask. The staff used glad wrap to wrap around my neck so the mask didn't irritate my skin further. By this time in the program, it was very uncomfortable.

Vicki got so worried about the pain I was enduring and my inability to eat and drink, and my huge weight loss, that at our next Medical Oncology appointment, she told the doctor all of what I had been through and the doctor prescribed even more medication. She said that if I showed no improvement, then I'd be admitted to hospital. During that visit, I had to leave the room to vomit in an adjoining toilet. The doctor immediately admitted me to hospital and told me to come back in the morning with a bag (change of clothes etc).

Vic and I went back in the morning and I was admitted to hospital. The ward registrar came around to see me and immediately put me onto a saline drip.

The dietician came around to see me and recommended I try to eat some food provided by the hospital, such as Resource protein liquid, jelly, ice cream, soup. All of which tasted disgusting. Even when I was able to eat some, I would ultimately vomit it all back up again.

I spent a week and a half in hospital. I had eaten and drunk very little, and what little I did manage to eat, I vomited up. I ultimately lost 22kgs in around 3 and a half weeks. I no longer felt like my earlier fitness had benefited me at all (ultimately it was extremely beneficial though).

I slept a lot and was constantly plugged into a saline drip.

Prior to each Chemotherapy treatment, I had to have a blood test. This was to make sure my blood health was acceptable to having another dose of Chemo. If your blood health is not at a minimum standard, the Oncologist can elect to miss a treatment. Between the weekly blood tests, and three-day cannula change, I felt like a pin-cushion.

Because of my dramatic weight loss, and lack of fluid intake, getting traction into a vein was becoming difficult. It was not unusual for the nurse to select a vein only to find it would move and the needle would miss its target. It was also not unusual to tap into a vein only to find such low pressure that getting blood was dfficult. But the worst was when the needle or cannula was pushed into my skin and moved around underneath in search of the vein, which regularly moved. Even the resident ward Doctor found it difficult. It was not their fault of course, but it was mighty painful, and boy, was I sick of needles by the end of treatment.

During my time in hospital, I was wheeled in for treatment because I no longer had any strength and the ward nurses were concerned I'd slip or trip if I walked myself. My dramatic weight loss also meant I felt cold all of the time, so I was layered up with blankets.

Eventually, I stabilised to a degree and although I still wasn't eating or drinking, the hospital said they needed the bed and I should go home under the care of Vic. I don't know what I'd have done if Vic wasn't a trained nurse.