Graduation Day

This is officially my last post as a Chemo Patient. I'm writing from my usual spot in the chemo suite, my port-a-cath (port-a-loo as my dad seems to genuinely think it is called) hooked up to my last dose of Docetaxyl, and I feel, well, a bit weird.

In December when this whole thing started I flicked through half of my new year diary and wrote 'LAST CHEMO!!!' in today's entry. At the time it felt like an eternity away, but here I am being looked after by 3 lovely nurses who have become people I look forward to seeing, for the last time. This kind of makes me sad. As does the fact that, although a horrible one, I'm in a routine, a programme. A long, uncomfortable, very necessary one where I do what I'm told and let other people look after my best interests. A bit like university in fact. And lo and behold I felt funny on that graduation day too. It's something about being chucked out into the world to work things out on my own. 6 months of chemo feels like a really long time, with surgery as something to think about afterwards. Now surgery is something to think about next, and this too is tingeing my graduation day with trepidation.

Nse and Pat x

I will also miss being the only girl in the chemo suite with an actual entourage. I'm sure the other patients must think I'm either a minor celebrity or really, really pathetic. But I cannot shake off my team of mother, father, boyfriend and lovely friend, all crowding round my bed (and I get a bed! Looks even worse...) and regaling me with stories of Bridge hands (Parents), illegally painting my nails (Claire), or running around fetching me water and filling prescriptions (Dadjokes). Still, one step closer to my I'm All Better party, no more nutropenic/hospitalisation fear and no more jabbing myself in the stomach with needles.

For some reason I look exceptionally yellow today. This happens every so often, the Jaundiced look. I'm guessing its something to do with my liver being assaulted by serious toxins on a regular basis, but I am no doctor. I can only tell when I am photographed next to other people and I go 'eurgh I look so yellow' and they always go 'yes you do.' From a beauty perspective, nope, ain't nothing doing. So my advice is this: use a processing app on your computer or iphone and tweak the colours artfully, so digital documentation of jaundice day will be forever altered in history. Easy, makeup-free, mirror-free and effort-free beauty editor advice there...

Some Retrospective Highlights (I never thought highlights would be possible within a chemo regime, I was wrong).

Elton John

This is what myself and my entourage call a particularly grumpy fellow patient who doesn't seem to realise that people are trying to help her. I really shouldn't judge, or nickname, but I find my highlights where I can - and she is unintentionally quite funny. She seems to be taking her fear out on her nurses, which is understandable but a bit inappropriate also. Her 'do, spectacles and attitude have the Elton John about them (I should mention here that I am one of his biggest fans, so I'm not being as mean as I sound), to the point where she exclaimed loudly that she refused to be treated with all these other people, then sat behind a curtain next to my bed swearing and complaining that who am I to get a bed when she should have one. You see? She even walked out that day. My friend Alex remarked that her cancer must be an aggressive one. boom boom. (sorry)

my lovely mum

Bonding

Its bound to happen in these here situations, but I'm so happy to see my parents smiling faces every three weeks. What with me being in North London, my family in Surrey, I didn't hang out them as much as I would have liked. Now they drive up every chemo day, which takes them around 2 hours each way, and stay the whole time just to keep me company. I owe them one. Not least for petrol money and hospital parking...

Familiar Faces

It took a good few sessions, but aside from the nurses, I also have some regular 'hello, how are you's? and particularly love seeing my bed fellow, Jonny, (not literally, he has the 2nd of the two beds in the suite, so we have that in common), who seems to be youngish like me and is so smiley and cute that he makes me feel better about being where I am. And he says things like 'keep at it girl' and 'girl, you look great today' (always a winner).

Relaaax

I've had a few emails from readers worrying about their chemo sessions, but believe me when I say, actual chemo day is the nicest day of the 3 week cycle. Ok, it hurts for a second going in, but that's the worst thing about it. Contrary to Hollywood belief, there's no nausea while you're there, there's free sandwiches and tea, and its akin to a much needed bikini wax in the slight-pain-for-ultimate-good sense, so that you feel comforted to be physically helping the situation along.

Pat, Sacha, and Nse

My wonderful regular chemo nurses who should win awards for fabulous bedside manner, patience (with Elton John types), calming influence and multi-tasking. I will miss them.

Run Team Look, Run

While I'm hooked up here, there are a load of my friends anti-chaffing themselves and lining up to run 5k for the Race For Life today. I think I would actually rather be having chemo than doing that, so bobble hats off to them, especially the Look ladies. Later next month will be the turn of The Communication Store PR company, who have been keeping me up to date with their fundraising efforts including a bake sale, aww. They tell me I inspired them to do it, so the fact I got west London's most glamorous office girls out of their pleated midi skirts and into some pink Lycra is enough to take the edge off the graduation trepidation and make me feel proud of me, them, Team Look and everyone else doing it today.

In a few more weeks the more hardcore of my band of charity nuts will doubling their efforts and sweating for 10k around Blackheath. This is team Katie Selby, led by Katie, with even one or two celeb runners thrown in for good measure. I bet the Lycra will be luxurious among this team.

Please sponsor one or all three teams here, its for the most great of good causes, and if you knew how loathe the fashion industry were to wear trainers for an entire day, you would realise the importance of their sacrifice and dig deep immediately.

Team Look
http://raceforlifesponsorme.org/LOOKettes

Team Selby
http://raceforlifesponsorme.org/katieselby2510

Team Communication Store
TBC - I'll update this when they've stopped baking and organised a justgiving page!

Which they've done already! Running in July, so plenty of donating time, at

http://raceforlifesponsorme.org/TCSRACE14

Right, I'm off to toast my non-chemo patient, graduated with honours status, with some chicken broth and GCSF injections, tra la la...

First ever chemo day, complete with post-bawling puffiness crossed with I Am Dead Brave face. Fooling anyone? er, no

p.s. OK, ok, as requested: My dad's ever present and outlandish efforts to make me laugh... (they work too)

Cats Are Not Just For Chemo

I'm sorry to all those who don't love kittens (dead inside), and it may seem tenuous, but I've got to tell you - in a non-recommended sort of way - that the right variety of cat time should be available on the NHS. In fact don't they do 'stroke' therapy in the US? If they're going to do it, it will be there.

Lucky for me, I have it, in the form of Elwood and Columbo, my Cornish Rex kittens. This isn't a proud mummy, pushing my babies onto anyone and everyone kind of post, I promise. I just have to tell you, I think they are happy medicine. And although I'm not saying go and buy kittens (Pat my lovely Chemo nurse, I promise that's not what I'm saying), just if you have some available to stroke, get access.
(Pat would say with gardening gloves, and I loathe to defy her superior nurse knowledge, so I include it herewith)

When I was diagnosed, she gave me the safety talk, she told me animals were a no no, I must at all odds stay AWAY FROM CAT POO, cat claws, cat scratches, cat mouths, 400 types of cat bacteria etc. Slight difficulty there was DadJokes and I had adopted two kittens the week before. The extent of my cat love is thus: If DadJokes were allergic, he would not have made it to partner status.

I did initially feel regretful, couldn't believe the timing, was afraid of the little beasts coming near me, which frankly was sadder than cancer. These cats though, must have been Buddhist chemo nurses in former lives; they were reincarnated to understand that they can only pat me, claws retracted - even when they play their favourite rabbit-gutting game (cat owners will understand), they just pat. I went about four weeks without a single scratch, that is unheard of in the kitten rearing world btw.

By the time I got the inevitable first one, I had relaxed somewhat, soaked it in boiling water for half an hour, slathered it in savlon, wrapped a BANDAGE around it, and successfully avoided sepsis.

Now I don't know what I would do without them. If you weigh up the pros and cons, avoiding poo and being careful around claws is not so bad (ever) in exchange for how much they make me laugh every day. This is more important for the sick, miserable or otherwise afflicted.

They are certifiably ridiculous though, lucky for me. From repeatedly rubbing their heads in candle soot to winking on command (I use 'command' to mean coincidence), to trying to suffocate my new niece, Jemima (ha ha!), they are the combined animal equivalent of Michael Mcintyre, in medicinal terms.

I'm posting this schmaltzy prose today because - although I don't like to focus on the tough bits - the last few days have been a bit that way. But my kittens, being Buddhist and all, have done that cat sense thing and just quietly purred and warmed various bits of my body at ALL times for three days straight. = Happy Medicine.

They're bloody annoying when it comes to blogging though...

p.s. If adorable kittens are not your thing (you may be dead inside), I recommend an alternative. The Happy Bag. Fluro orange, satchel style from Zara. Sunshine in leather form. I defy you not to feel perky when wearing this colour.

I also and of course need to thank the reasons for my cats being, breeders Shane & Mark. The ridiculousness and the patting is their fault since they brought them up that way, so if you're going to get some medicinal pets, I point you in their wondrous direction. AND they do chihuahuas (which I've never had to spell before, did I do it?)
http://rextacular.com