In the Dark of the Night

One of the worst times of day, I find, is when you lie in bed, wide awake in the dark of the night - not the snugly time just after you switch out the light to go to sleep - but the time around 4.00 to 5.00 when you have woken up again and can't get back to sleep.

Your thoughts run away with you - no matter what you start thinking about they rush around in a spiral and end up in exactly the place you don't want them to go. I am writing this at 5.03 on Saturday morning, because I stopped for a toilet break (i.e. I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep) around an hour ago.

 I lay in bed for half an hour and then got up with my head spinning, reaching that horrible place, full of dark thoughts - obviously, in my case, I was thinking of the humiliating defeat last week by Wales at Murrayfield (fortunately my main rugby companion has been on school holiday duty this week and I was spared the whole 'that was a dreadful match' conversation, particularly since he is English).

It was my birthday this week - in fact it was my birthday on Wednesday - they day I was at hospital for my treatment. I went to my GP on Tuesday for my regular blood test, then waited with baited breath to see if my blood count had raised from the week before. The call came through on Tuesday afternoon. The blood levels were back up and everything was good to go.

I turned up at the hospital and was plugged in. Every time the drip is changed, they check my name and date of birth - just in case I have forgotten it, I think (or maybe it is to check that no one has sneaked in, hit me over the head and swapped places with me to take my treatment. Hmmm. Must ask about that on Wednesday).

It didn't take long for all concerned to notice the similarity in dates and very sweetly, I was given a box of chocolates (probably from the stash of goodies received from other grateful patients, but I appreciated it none the less). After helping my self to oneof the orange truffles, I passed the box round the treatment area where I was. A little later I was helped with my chocolates by Clairee, The NinjaGeek when she gave up her own birthday afternoon (she was nineteen and I was forty four if anyone wants to know) to visit her poor old dad in hospital, again it was very much appreciated (so thank you Claire).

One of the differences between the Western and St Johns is that the latter is a much smaller unit they have space for around 5 or 7 patients at any one time. They have the same cancer types regularly, every week - Tuesday was bowel cancer day. That meant that when I went along every third Tuesday I would seem the same people every time. There were always people starting or finishing, and there were inevitable delays, but in general the people stayed the same. Also because everyone was being treated for the same thing, with roughly the same everyone knew how it felt and it was going.

On Ward 1 however, this is not the case. The ward itself is much larger and treats a much larger number of patients - roughly around 30 to 35 patients at any one time I would say. and everyone has a different type of cancer, and hence a different type of treatment. I am there all day and see people coming and going all the time. I have now picked a spot, strategically next to the toilet, where I can sit and watch everyone coming and going.

I have one other blog that I follow, from a friend in the south of England, writing from the point of view of a husband watching and helping his wife go through her treatment. Andy and Janine have an inspiring faith and Janine seems to face up to her treatment with unwavering faith in God and a strong sense of humour (possibly slightly dark at times, but well...)

I know that there are time when that faith in God will be shaken and the sense of humour slips (see the start of this post :) but I think I would like to say that both Andy and Janine have been a great inspiration to me.

(I also feel inadequate in the blog posting department, when every other day there is a new email in my mailbox anouncing a new post from Andy).

I do believe that God has me in the palm of his hand at all times - even the dark of the night, but I don't think that this comes across in this blog. To a certain extent this is a deliberate choice - I have chosen to concentrate on symptoms and treatments and miss out the reliance on God.
I know that God can heal supernaturally and sometimes chooses to do so, but I also know that he uses people he has put on the earth, such as the medical and nursing staff (both Christian and non-Christian alike)  who look after me, to fulfil his sovereign plans.

Enough of this night-time drivel - this has taken nearly an hour to write and it is almost time for breakfast telly to start.

God Bless

Graham

Sent Home in Disgrace

Part 1 - A Free Week
It is just over a week since I had my last round of chemo and it has pretty much taken me the whole week to recover form that bout. I was far more tired than I remember from the equivalent chemo cycles in 2008.

I don't know if I am romanticising the last round, or whether it actually is harder this time - probably some of each.

Again, the actual day in the hospital went smoothly, other than a very embarrassing need to go to the toilet every hour. I can't contain it at the best of times, but the main function of many of the drip solutions is to (re)hydrate me. The end result is that the liquids pour out of me almost as fast as they are pumped in to me. Glasses of water and cups of tea just make it all worse, but I have to say that being pampered like that is rather nice, and as for the foot massage (I know I have mentioned it before, but, you know.........)

The aftermath again proceeded much as advertised. The next day (last Thursday) was relatively straight forward, not too sick, but easily tired. Friday more sickly and more tired. Saturday, more more sickly and more more tired.

The other side effects were also present - particularly the constipation. Fortunately the lovely nurses gave me some nice medicine to make it go away. It took time, but eventually relief was on hand.

The week off fairly flew past - going to work every day is such a delight. The only problem is that it seems that I overdid it a bit.

Part 2 - Sent Home in Disgrace

Each visit to the chemo ward is preceded by a blood test. Yesterday I duly went to my GP for my blood test. The blood test checks a number of  exciting things, one of which is my White Blood Count (which is a measure of how good my immune system is).  The WBC count should be 3 or more. Before the start of the treatment it was 7.2. before the second treatment it was 3.2.

Yesterday, even after two weeks without any treatment, it was measured below the Magic 3 - (2.6, I think), so when the ward called me for the regular day-before check-up they warned my that I may not receive the treatment today. I arrived for my appointment today and was taken in to the ward and stuck with my needle.

The nurses took another blood sample to repeat the tests. The sample was whisked of to be tested again and in the mean time I was given the first drip - a saline solution for hydration. just as that finished, the news came through and my WBC count seems to have dropped further - although I don't know what the actual value was. Maybe, just maybe I should try to take it a bit easier.

As a result I was sent home in disgrace, my head in my hand; shame filled my every pore. I have an extra week off and everything slips by a week.

I have to admit, I just went home and bummed around for the rest of the day - I decided that if I was too ill for chemo, then I probably deserved a day off work - maybe that was wrong, but there you go.

I still get to go back on my birthday - no more news on the campaign for a second birthday - the kids are behind it (they think they will get more birthday cake) but Helen doesn't see the need. I will press on with this though. If you want to add your support to this worthy cause, please contact me. I may have to start a petition on the Number 10 website - I am sure that David Cameron would be very interested in this.

Enough already - my daughter wants to see what drivel I have written this time, so I will finish here. I am not expecting much in the way of symptoms this week, what with the lack of nasty chemicals and stuff, so there may be another longer gap - unless blinding inspiration strikes.

best wishes

Graham

P.S. congratulations to Becky, who has just been awarded a scholarship to study in the US next year. :)