Getting Petted in Hamilton

Positron Emission Tomography. PET. Whew I'm glad I got that out of the way. A radio active tracer is injected into your veins and after an hour they scan you to see if there are any Hot spots of cancer.

Hamilton has just started doing this sort of scan and as a result there were a few hiccups. As I am allergic to the contrast dye I had to take some pre-meds to stop the reaction. I had been told I couldn't eat for four hours before but the script for the medication came saying take with food. So I rang up the clinic in Hamilton and was told that I would need to get up at 5 in the morning and eat and take my pills then. But this was the wrong thing to do as after I had enjoyed my toast and honey my blood sugars were too high. So I was shown to my lead-lined room and told to wait. The "Activity" as they call it had not arrived yet as it is flown up from Wellington each day that it is needed, but by the time it did arrive my blood sugars were heading towards normal again. They put a canula in my arm and attach it to a long coil of tubing. Then the nurse stood outside the door with just a gloved hand showing and released the activity. Then I dozed for an hour.

By this stage I was in a gown - but I would hardly call it decent enough to have pictures taken in it. Then a voice came over the intercom telling me to go to the toilet - set aside especially for radioactive people - then follow the black line to the scanning room.

 

I was lucky that the reception lady did carmera work for this one. These are the monitors outside the scanning room so yes that is me going through the hoops for 30 minutes. I went to get the camera from her after the procedure and she back off really fast. I wasn't allowed to touch anyone for an hour. So I gave Duncan a little wave goodbye as he took off to go back to Gisborne. Barry made me a cup of tea and soon I was back to normal.

I stayed with Barry and Liz another night, and then stayed with Simon in his rented apartment for two nights, enjoying some shopping with Margaret and Liz on the wednesday.

Then it was time to see the specialist. I was shocked that he had changed his mind about the radiotherapy, but my scan was all cold even though the lump in my neck - really a hump now - is a little larger than desirable. This is why I will have 2 sessions of immunotherapy to stave off any regrowth.

Gentlmen Prefer Blondes

Looking at my stubble, I think I'm going to be a platinum blonde!!! I know some of you would deny my pollyanna spirit and suggest that it will be white - or even grey. But hey, I'm just grateful for ANY hair that might grow. In the meantime I'll just have "more fun" like blondes do until I am proved wrong.

Fuzzy Wuzzy was a worm

I keep feeling my head to see if the hair has grown. Unfortunately my scalp has grown quite tough while I've been bald over the last 3 months so as each little hair follicles punches through it has the consistency of coarse sandpaper.
Duncan refuses to comment on it every day when I say "Do you think my hair has grown?" "I'm only going to comment once a week" he replied. I normally have a haircut every 5 weeks so I am hoping there might be some progress by then.
It feels quite fuzzy wuzzy now, but too small yet to be making a call about colour or curliness.

Hair we come!!

Today I would normally be off at chemo and my poor bristly hair would be slashed down again. But not any more - its free to grow!!

Duncan and I went out to dinner last night to celebrate the end of 18weeks of chemo. Finito. I am now up to two glasses of wine, so that's huge progress!! We crossed the last week off the wall chart and off we went. I took this photo by holding the camera out and it seems to have given me a double chin. (Some of you may understand the logic of this)

My wall oven was very unsafe as its venting fans had stopped working so I took the opportunity to to back to a stand alone oven with a warming draw. The bench still needs some finishing off but at least I feel safe to cook again. Mmmmmm lasagne for tea.

We hope to go down to Mahia for the weekend in the caravan. Duncan has a golf tournament to play in and I will rest and and take walks alone the beach.

More news after the scan and report back on the 24th.



A Whiter Shade of Pale

A lot of people say to me - "you look good, just a little pale." But I'm sure that if you take big bushie brown eyebrows and long luxurious eyelashes off any body then they will look a little pale. Mostly I am winding my way out of the chemo spell - but I've just tried to rush it a bit this last time. I'm now still feeling a bit off colour, and have a sore throat and cold. I nearly made it through keeping healthy all the way.

I did it!!

The night before my last chemo I was in a high state of anxiety and had a nightmare that they gave me the wrong bag of chemo, then the line came out and they couldn't get it back in, then there was a gas emergency in town and the day ward was swamped with people unable to breathe and I couldn't find a chair to sit down on. So it was a great surprize that the line went in first pop, and all the chemo went in at quite a high rate, I got the lunch I ordered and was feeling good when Dawn dropped me home and made me a cuppa. I said goodbye to Patsy and Annette and said - in the nicest possible way that I hope I never see them again. I had given them so much cheek (a bit like my Dad) that I think they might have been pleased to see the back of me.
I noticed in the Listener a quote from a Dr David Agus "We talk about cancer as a noun, as if it is a one-time event. But the body is changing all the time. We should think about it instead as a verb "I'm cancering". The trick would be to pick up on early signs of when a person started to "cancer" and then nip it in the bud."
This is a good reflection of how I feel about cancer now, it is all a matter of cell growth over time. Cancer cannot seem to be diagnosed at one point it needs to be observed over time.
I wonder if my cancering time is over . Roll on October and we shall see what things look like now.

The Ist of Potatoes

The next season in the calendar after the 1st of Aspargus is the 1st of Potatoes. Duncan dug up the first of his Cliff Kidneys as a fathers Day treat. They were very creamy and tasty.

And so time passes but ever so slowly towards the end of the treatment. Next week is my last treatment. The anxiety that it will all go well is mounting, not helped by the apprehension for Market Day. I only have 8 in my year 9 and 10 class, but the diversity of characters mean that it like herding cats - and the day before Market Day some of the boys decide they will polyurethane some boards for cheese and crackers. They will have a lingering smell for a while!
Last week I was at golf and we let a couple of chaps through because I play so slowly. "What are you all wrapped up in a wooly hat for?" said one of them because it was a beautiful day. I'm having chemo. I usually take my wig to put on after golf when we go to have coffee. But this time I hadn't so just had a snood over my head. When I turned from the counter to find a seat I found a whole heap of eyes on me, and a definite hush in the conversation. Trying to work out why I would wear this wooly head covering on such a gorgeous day. Just like I remember staring at the lady in First Light Frozen many months ago. (See Cancerverse 1)