First Visit To The Oncologist

Darren and I went to Kenepuru Hospital today to meet with Professor Rudstone to discuss my options for treatment.  He has just arrived out here from the UK and what a lovely man he is.  He is somebody that I would love to have as a grandfather.  Before we met him I had pre-conceived that he would be a stuffy, suited man but he was nothing like that at all.  As he explained things to us he would every now and again pat my hand or touch my arm in a reassuring and caring manner and call me dear.  He ran through everything and explained what each method of treatment would offer me, in the way of a graph.  He said if I were to decide not to have any treatments, my chances of another ten years would be 74%.  If I were to chose to have chemotheraphy only then my chances increase to 84%. If I chose to have chemotheraphy and then take hormonal therapy for 5 years afterwards then my chances increase to 88%. The tumor was eostrogen receptive which means it relies on eostrogen to grow.  By taking the hormone therapy, tamoxofin, which removes the eostrogen from my body, the tumor has less chance of coming back. The drawback of this of course is that it will throw me into the change of life. Marvellous!!

So I say, give me the works.

I initially was told that I would only have to have four sessions every three weeks by my surgeon but Profressor Rudstone is recommending that I have four sessions of the first drug and then after that, administering the second lighter drug once every week for twelve weeks.  The second one probably won't have much of a side effect because it will be given in a weaker dose but more frequent.

They will insert a pic line into my vein which will stay in until my therapy is done with.  I will have to have my blood tested each time before each session to make sure I am not anaemic and also to keep an eye on my platelets. This basically means that if the platelets are low and I cut myself, my blood won't clot. (Hmm better watch out for those paper cuts at work).  Another worrying thing is that if I get an infection I have to be admitted to hospital straight away (I told him that won't be happening because there is no way I'm going back into Wellington public).  He then informed me that, "you will have no choice dear because an untreated infection in someone having chemotherapy will kill you in two days". Oh shit!!

I had an ECG taken right there and then to see that my heart is in good nick. Apart from it being broken a few times, it seems to be alright on the printout.  They have to keep an eye on my heart because sometimes the chemotherapy drug can damage it.  Oh, the joys!!  For this reason I also have to have a MUGA scan which makes a movie of my heart moving and to assess whether there is any damage before they start the chemo. I will probably have my first shot late next week.

They also are going to book me in for a CT scan to photograph my whole body to make sure that the little blighter hasn't seeded itself anywhere else.  I was under the impression that if the lymph nodes were clear then  it hadn't gone anywhere else but that is not the case.

I drove home feeling angry, for the first time since my diagnoses. I felt really brassed off that I will have to have six months of chemo instead of three and every week for the last three months at that. I drove along Paekakariki water front and as I got towards the end of the stretch I noticed all the cars up ahead were slowing down.  Great, I thought, roadworks or worse still, an accident. I noticed lots of cars in the carpark and people taking photos and as I looked out over the water (which by the way, was a beautiful greeny blue, greener than I'd ever seen it) I saw a pod of orchas coming out of the water as they made their way southwards. Up ahead, the whole line of traffic had slowed right down as people watched nature in all its glory.  Not one driver tooted or became full of road rage from being forced to drive slow.  It was this beautiful site that made me say 'Wow' out loud to myself and my anger disappeared.  What is worse? Six months of not feeling 100% or only having six months left?  What is six months of therapy compared to surviving and living a long and healthy life to enjoy moments such as these!