Showing posts with label chemo brain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chemo brain. Show all posts

Sunday, 24 October 2010

and…

I forgot about the FH's birthday pressie from Mum and Dad - hoo! An entire CRATE of wine…what more could one ask for!!! ;) The FH has been enjoying his scrummy wine all evening. And yesterday evening too. Me, I'm still slapping back the Jimenez. Wouldn't want to intrude eh? ;)

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In fact, I must say, my last post was as confused as I am. I re read it just now. Repetitive and tedious. And completely boring. I have the habit of just posting stuff then  seeing it a day or so later. Sorry! Just blathering on because sometimes that's what I need to do some days.

But I woke up this morning thinking it was Sunday.

Seriously.  It wasn't. It was Saturday. I then had a horrible panic attack, thinking I should be 'somewhere'. The gardening. Or the cleaning. Or Feelgood Ecobeds. Or Dr Debt. PANIC!  Eventually I realised that actually, I had a day off. OMG!! This was after I checked everything in my Outlook calendar. Frantically. I SO hate this chemo brain crap. It makes one into a complete quivering wreck at times - when one wishes to KNOW something…well, we just don't. But we do. But we can't access the information in the brain. It's infuriating and upsetting.

The other thing I NEEDED to remember was that Rachel is coming down - oh, I didn't forget! But I didn't realise which exact day…I thought it was Sunday. It's Monday. Grr.

Well. Anyway. This morning, I immediately went back to bed. I am exhausted. And it's so cold.  So I decided to make the most of time that wasn't filled with 'stuff'. I have a great book. One of those that you can't put down. So I read it. And I'm still reading it…

But I am also still thinking about all the things I have to 'do'. Ah…no rest for the wicked….back to the book….

Saturday, 17 July 2010

breathless

I am always rushing these days. And this week has been no exception. It seems I don't have enough moments in the day. Or enough days in the week. I am breathless.

It's been a good week, and a very bad week. A very LONG week. Count the good first - my check up was fine, CA 125 up to 9 again but still well within the norms. A milestone for me, as it's 2 years [amazing! doesn't feel like it!] since my last chemo in August 2008 and I am now going for my next check up in SIX months time. Chemo never seems far away - hopefully it soon will feel that way. But I still remember this day so vividly - I can still feel how my scalp felt then…

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Yay? 6 months cancer free! hmm - I think so. But it doesn't matter, as I can call and go there whenever I like if I feel unsettled. So. A GREAT result. Relief. And Rachel has been declared totally cancer free!! Amazing!

BAD because ALL bloody week my friends have been having lots of problems. Of my dear friends, one is constantly back and forth for scans, blood tests, this that and the other - and no-one seems to know what's wrong; another one's CA 125 has shot up rather alarmingly; to be resolved soon we hope. Another has been diagnosed with breast cancer and is now in chemo. My friends [she feels like my sister] mother has been diagnosed with the same. She is in for surgery this week. WHAT is going on?? It's almost like a message, pounding it home how grateful I should be.

And I am - but I so wish I could share the good luck. Because worse was yet to come.

Saturday, 20 March 2010

time management – or not…

Eish, I can't believe this…well, I can, but I have to at least pretend to be startled by my own lack of comms with the general populace! I keep forgetting to reply to emails, do the ironing [oh happy lapse!] and everything else. My office is like a junk yard – NOT nice. It means my brain is probably also in chaos.

I am now madly trying to get lots of products onto lots of web sites. I suppose I could say I 'don't have time' to answer emails / the phone / the door, but probably I would if I were a bit better organised. I keep replying to things, saving them as drafts and then completely forgetting to complete and send the blessed things. As for the phone, I just slam it down if I don't know the person calling. And I threatened a cold caller at my door the other day with Certain Death if he didn't get his ass off my property. I am a grouch. But he didn't appear to understand "I'm not interested". But it became very clear to him VERY quickly…

I am now officially the Marketing peep for Hacker Design and Feelgood Ecobeds. Shriek! I have never done anything like it in my life, and as I am working on a commission plus expenses [and I am a bit of a cheap tart so that's not much] I need to get my butt in gear. Right. Ok.

On another subject entirely, my brother Pete [who is quite organised], and my sister-in-law Tracey [who is as dotty as they come – rather like me], are running the BUPA 10k in London on 31st May 2010. If you can spare a fiver [or a couple of bucks my darling US friends!] please donate. Pete has run a zillion marathons recently – he is like a one man money machine for charities! Way to go peeps.

Here's Pete with me – wearing the beastly wig during chemo. I love this photo, even though I look like a mad woman. Pete had more hair than me then ;o)

Please donate if you can. They are not 'sports' people – they are just trying hard to help others. Thanks!

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Wednesday, 6 January 2010

MRI; next stop

I don't think I was particularly clear about what is happening in the last blog post. But then again, I wasn't feeling very clever at the time, so there you go. My girls have been asking questions that I thought I had answered. Well, I hadn't. Looked over the last post and noticed LARGE gaps in the information. Sorry. Brain is mush.

What happened is this: CT scan in December. Couldn't go to Portugal to work because of that and family commitments. Then I lost my contract because I couldn't go. Uff. Seems that cancer can cause all sorts of BS that you never consider. Until it happens. Well, there you go eh? Life goes on…I will find other work.

Then the CT scan came back with 'something' on it. [I begin to hate the word 'something' AND the New Year]. I went into the RD&E to meet Renninson [my lovely surgeon]. He came in especially to see me just before Christmas. Nice or what?

Anyway, the meeting went thus: 'I have seen something on the scan that looks like a 'thickening'. It needs to be investigated. I don't know what it is, but there's a 50/50 chance it is either scar tissue or a recurrence. Before we go down the road of more chemo, I want to see what it is'. Me: Swallow [chemo? again? fuck!]. Aj: freak out. He heard 'it is cancer'. But we sorted that out. I love my husband – he is so involved with me. And I hate that he has to be. It takes things from his life. This is so unfair to him. Do ALL cancer patients feel as guilty as I do?

So, the next steps are: tomorrow, the MRI scan. I understand this to be a pre-op measure – so Renninson can see what is going on in there. A PET scan was out of the question, as he said it would merely show up a 'hot spot'. This would not tell him whether it is cancer or not, so no need for that. Ok. But at least I had the info to ask the question – thanks Nat. Then the pre-op meeting. Then I will find out when the surgery will take place.

The other thing Renninson will do [I am trying to be CLEAR here] is to try to find out what is causing the pain on my left side [although, thanks to Senekot, that seems to be receding]

Bugger. And yes, I could curse a LOT here. grr. But I won't. I will keep the Zen brain I succeeded with today…THIS IS BETTER.

Sort out the office [where I am sitting right now in  the midst of a ton of stuff!]. Clean the house. Look for work. Get on with it. Ok.

Good fun this isn't it? But at least two good things happened today – the car is fixed [£100.00] and the front window [which some prat smashed while we were away] is fixed too…

woop!

Tuesday, 17 November 2009

yay – result!

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Check up day – what fun [not]. Off to Exeter. Parked near the solicitors…you can only have up to an hour there, so that was perfect.

Wandered into the shops and had a mental aberration in Warehouse. Bought stuff [as you do IF you aren't looking for anything, which I wasn't – well, the shoes apart]. Looked for the shoes.

Well, the shoes were a BIG failure. After racing about Exeter town centre looking for the Kirk Geiger shop [and not finding it], I resorted to the iPhone and looked it up on the www. Oh yes…it was in BRISTOL that I went into that shop…stupid chemo brain. So, no shoes. YET!!

Then Aj rang and said he was home, so I went to pick him up to go with me to the RD&E. Thank goodness I did. The parking was a complete and utter nightmare. Aj dropped me at Force and went to try and park. I dropped the collection box in and got a new one. Everyone seemed very excited by the weight of the box. I also got some Christmas cards. Then went to find the DH. He passed me in the car, waving his arms and legs in hopelessness of ever finding a space. I merrily left him to it and went for a cup of coffee in the waiting room.  WAITING being the operative word! An hour late! Oh well.

Of course, as soon as I got really stressed and raced outside for a cigarette, I was called. Raced back in and assumed the position.

Right – First thing, the CA 125 is 8. Yay. Up 2 from last time but not actually 'up'. Relief there. Although I do understand this is not definitive, it's still a nice little control mechanism for panic.

Next; regarding the pain I have been having. Initially I had a dull pain under my left ribcage, almost straight after the surgery.  That has remained constant. And I don't worry about that. Maybe it's a scalpel or a hat that someone forgot. But for the last few months [since my last check up] I've had a new, more painful pain that runs down my left side just inside the hip bone. The last few weeks it's been going down my leg too. NOT conducive to cheery thoughts. Renninson said it is the large intestine, or bowel, and apparently it's backing up? He can feel it, and shouldn't be able to.

Charming. A 'backed up' bowel? Eww. It seems I need to drink MORE water, and eat MORE fibre. Probably linseed oil. Which I always thought was for cricket bats [all important task of applying Linseed Oil to your bat...don’t forget the toe!]. Renninson thinks not. It's for bowels and I should have it at breakfast. Sounds suitably repulsive, but I shall try it.

And he's sending me for a CT scan. Result. So now I can chill out [between scoffing fibre and guzzling water and linseed oil] until the scan results. Hoorah.

Monday, 2 November 2009

not much thinking going on

I have 'forgotten' far too many things recently. Well, not recently – but generally since being chemo-ed. Some things were quite very serious but hopefully will be resolved. This memory thing plus the 'I can't prioritise or FINISH things' thing sucks. 'Constantly baling out water – but I still feel like I am going to sink'; that's me. And it's hard to explain – there are no 'good' reasons that make one forget, neglect or avoid doing IMPORTANT things. It's getting better – the book 'Your Brain after Chemo', has helped. What a relief – I am not the only person like this. There are a LOT of us. Maybe we should start a club, as our normal friends probably shouldn't have to put up with this crap.

Multi tasking now involves palpitations and lists. I am getting quite good at using Excel [there's a programme I detest!]. I need to be very organised or feel like I might scream.

Hardly surprising, with everything that's been going on. Aj has relocated his business. Relocating a tile shop involves masses of heavy lifting, so he has been at it from 7.30 in the morning until 8.00 at night for about 3 weeks. And dealing with all the legal side of it, banks, solicitors etc during the day [in between hauling pallet loads of tiles, stands and stuff] has been making him crazy. He has been mainly falling in the door every night, then almost straight to bed.

My evenings have been spent working on all the advertising, the website and signage. This weekend I was painting floors blue and carrying horrible hand boards about in an attempt at organisation of chaos. I hate painting floors. We are both exhausted. But today the new shop opened! Yay!

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And the other good thing: I haven't had a second to think bad thoughts for weeks. Well, apart from the fact that this hideous cold I have had has now moved to my chest and I am worried about it becoming bronchitis. I am coughing myself awake at night. But drinking cough medicine and sitting upright seems to help.

On the the 14th we were supposed to have the swine flu shot – seems Aj has to have it too in order to avoid getting it and giving it to me. But we have been moved to the next batch, which no-one knows the arrival date of. Apparently they do the Swine Flu vaccination in batches of 500. They will send us an 'invitation'. Uh?

I got my GP to sign that form that gives cancer patients free prescriptions. Gotta reap some benefit from this horrific disease right? Still waiting for that to arrive.

In the meantime I am going to Portugal to work again. Need to leave at 5.30 in the morning. The day after I return I go for my bloods. On  the 17th November I have my next check up. On the 18th we are off to the SKY studio for yet another interview.  Then we are off to see Rodrigo Y Gabriela [something to look forward to – yay]. Then to Brighton to drink cocktails on my friends rather posh seafront veranda. Then the kids are down for the weekend…

Actually, now I come to think of it, no wonder I'm confused and forgetful. Roll on the Christmas break!

Friday, 28 August 2009

the tv interview…continued

sorry about that – I was just suddenly in 'sleep' mode in the middle of blogging. Went directly to bed!

So, where was I? Ah yes, the TV thingmy. A few weeks ago Amanda Hayhurst from Hayhurst Media called me. Hayhurst Media are the PR company for Ovacome. She asked me if I would be willing to take part in a televised programme about women's health by Tern TV, which would include a section about ovarian cancer. She knew about me from Ovacome, as they are revamping their web site, and I am on the list of previous interviewees. Of course I agreed. Any publicity for this damn cancer may help even ONE woman not to go through what I did. So, "yes" was the resounding [and rather airheaded] reply.

A chap called Keith McCormick called me the next day, and did a sort of 'interview' over the phone…I assume this was to ensure they weren't going to be interviewing someone who couldn't speak. It was great – firstly because the Keith McCormick person had a lovely Irish accent [oops!], secondly because he was extremely emphatic. His follow up email was delightful – he said "But even to speak to you and for me personally to get my head around this type of cancer is really beneficial." That was pretty cool.

Then I had a call from a lovely woman with a wicked Scots accent. She wanted to call round here at 6.00 on Wednesday to do a filmed interview. Eek! That sort of brought it home [I would be on camera?? aaargh] but she sounded nice so I agreed again.

Wednesday arrived, and [this is bad – chemo brain again – I can't remember if she was called Lorraine or Gillian! grr!].  I am sure she won't mind. [but I do!]. Anyway, she interviewed me in our lounge, and it lasted for an age [3 hours?] – afterward I was convinced I talked 'too fast', 'too much' blah blah – and I surprised myself, as at the end I was in tears [ugh – hate that] – as she asked me 'why do you think ovarian cancer should be brought to the public eye more" [not her words, but the essence of what she wanted to know].

I thought of  Grace or Vicky or Jenny going through what I went through last year. It made me feel sick. It upset me a lot. But we managed to trundle through to the end of the interview relatively sedately, so not all bad.

I am one of many women they are interviewing in the same way – SKY TV makes the end decision about what they will or won't use. So it may come to nothing, but at least I know that SOMEONE who has had ovarian cancer will be on the programme – that's the best. Someone will be telling other women, who [like I was before I had it] are completely ignorant of the fact that your annual smear test does NOT protect you from all gynaecological cancers. Only cervical cancer. Ovarian cancer? Ha. No. Unfortunately the annual MOT doesn't test for that. And there is no test for it.

So we need to be like the women who have had breast cancer – we HAVE to advocate our own disease. We HAVE to bring it to the public eye – we HAVE to try to take charge here and make sure other women know about this. The sad thing is that many women who have ovarian cancer don't live long enough to be advocates. This is what we need to change.

So thank you Tern TV for taking the time to interview me. Thank you for bothering to include ovarian cancer in the programme. I know TV programmes are made to make money – I am not naive – but if one can make money whilst helping people to SURVIVE…well. It can't be bad can it?

I will update ad and when I know what's happening.

Here is Grace after we had finished – allowed to look through the camera – most amusing for a 5 year old…she said I didn't look "too weird"…heh heh

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Saturday, 11 July 2009

crap day

Right!! Now I know it works, off we go. Clever innit? To get to the actual point of this whole evenings post. Hmm. I have forgotten what I wanted to post about. MERDE!!! I get THAT furious with this – Oh, I have remembered…it's the combination of hot flashes, pain and chemo brain. Drives me mad.

I am so easily distracted – i do wonder if it's a matter of 'forgetting' things or simply a matter of drifting off. I seem to be concentrating on one thing, then 2 minutes later, I am somewhere else completely. Then I am thinking: 'what??' oh yes…' back to the drawing board. Again. Chemo brain. Such fun. NOT.

Today started out rather well. I slept in until 9.00. That's ok – it's Saturday right? And we were out last night. So. I bumbled about the house, checking email, seeing the current catalogue I am making [which I STILL don't quite like], drinking coffee blah blah. Then I decided that maybe I wouldn't go to circuit training today. Ha! The next minute my new 'skort' arrived in the post. Obviously a message from God saying 'get your fat butt into gear'. And I had to go to the post office anyway, so off I went. All skorted up. Felt rather a tart, as the skort is rather short! Class was hideous. Far too much cheery exercise.

eep!! lots of fireworks going off behind our house – hello typos..:o)

Got home and, full of energy, intended to do the garden. Ho ho…NOT. Rained all day. Wisteria, do your worst. I don't care. It's raining. I hate rain. It should rain in the night. Useful.

And that was it. I went into one of those days where even to pick up my hand seems too much trouble. I feel totally leaden. All my energy is gone. Like I should just lie down and go to sleep. Even breathing seems too hard. Uff. Not good.

And the pain in my left side is back. It scares me. I am a wuss. What is it? Sensitive bowel or the cancer has come back? After all, hoiking out and washing your bowels can't get rid of those little dormant cells now can it? Die cells, die…but having them taken out and washed must have consequences right? Hopefully the pain is just a consequence…

Today I don't care if I am a wuss. I had lots of those stupid, horrible hot flashes. So I absconded to the garden [where it is freezing cold] and had a good old cry. I am sick and tired of hot flashes, joint pain, side pain and worrying about bullshit that may never happen [here's hoping].

Why the crying? I am pissed off with hot flashes. I am also pissed off with pains in my side, insomnia, joint pain when I go up the stairs…worrying about a recurrence of this bitching disease and worrying about why they scan women in the USA and not here…and why I am having pains in my head, and why am I worried anyway?? And feeling like I am too young to have this joint BS. Grr.

Ah yes…I know. I should just 'get over it'. Er – not. I am mostly over it, this is true. But some days…well.

Here's a nice photo to cheer you up after this miserable post! My amazing husband.

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Wednesday, 29 April 2009

forgetting things...

Wednesday, 29 April 2009

You know what - I think cancer can make one quite thoughtless and selfish. One becomes so obsessed with the thought and means of survival, that one can become quite revoltingly self absorbed. I suppose it's a little like being attacked by a crocodile or a lion…you wouldn't really be thinking about how everyone else is would you? You'd simply be concentrating on how to get the beast away from your jugular. Or your foot. Or whatever part it was busy munching on. Maybe this is just me. But survival seems paramount. I forget most everything else. Not deliberately. It just is.

This lays one open for the 'Guilt Trip' as in, 'I feel bad about not doing this, that or the other' for other people. And it’s true - chemo really does make you forget to do things. I have ALL my family's birthdays in my Outlook calendar - I know exactly when things are going to happen. BUT I still don't manage to do anything on time. I know when things are going to happen - I know to buy a card. But I never know if I've sent the damn thing or not!! And sadly it's usually a 'not'! Grr. So our new plan is to buy all the cards in advance, address them, stamp them, write them. And then simply rely on AJ to post them in time. We discussed this the other night - AJ is a star. I was sort of having a bit of a fit due to constant FORGETTING. I hate it. Uff! I hate this!! I feel so stupid - I forget things that happened 4 hours ago! Bah. But thanks to my great husband, I now have a plan.

Hopefully, the chemo brain will go AWAY!! It’s the most frustrating thing.

Saturday, 25 April 2009

"I feel my brain is not my own" - this article makes me feel a LOT better!

After chemotherapy, patients can experience huge cognitive problems. For many, it's the last straw. Lucy Atkins reports;

The Guardian, Tuesday 21 April 2009

Susan Sontag likened hers to the symptoms of a stroke, while Kylie Minogue complained that it made her forget everything. Welcome to chemobrain or, less catchily, "cancer treatment-related change in cognitive function" - a widespread problem for cancer patients which, until recently, has been largely ignored by clinicians.

For many, it's the last straw after months of treatment. You might struggle to find the right word for an object or be unable to follow a fast-paced conversation. Or you might have trouble multitasking. You might even forget your own phone number. More than just irritating, these occurrences can shake your confidence, damage your career, upset your social and family lives and, in extremis, even put you in danger.

Joanne Redford, 37, was diagnosed with breast cancer when her second child was 10 months old. Through 18 months of chemotherapy, she stayed positive. But now, one year on, she says, "I feel like my brain is not my own. Socially, her confidence is at rock bottom. "I'm nervous about striking up a conversation with anyone new these days. I think, 'What if I forget what I'm talking about?'"

Until now Redford has told nobody about these symptoms - not even her husband. "I just try to cover it up," she says. "People think that because the treatment has finished, you are fine. That you feel lucky to be alive. They don't realise what you are still going through."

Not everyone who undergoes cancer treatment experiences chemobrain, although no official figures exist on what proportion of people are affected, and research into the causes is in its infancy. However, one of the most recent studies on the subject, according to Ellen Clegg, Boston-based author of a new and controversial book, Chemobrain: How Cancer Therapies Can Affect Your Mind, suggests that the problem could be the result of chemotherapy temporarily damaging the brain's ability to grow new cells (the progenitor cells). "Some doctors are looking at whether chemotherapy agents influence the blood-brain barrier [whereby chemicals or bacteria in the bloodstream cannot pass into the neural tissue], or actually cross it, causing damage to brain cells," she says.
Clegg believes that doctors in America do not tell patients about these theories because they, understandably, do not want to put people off life-saving treatments. Consequently, she says, there is widespread distress and confusion. "Patients wonder what is going on, when their hair grows back and fatigue abates, but a spaced-out feeling lingers."

The issue is starting to be taken more seriously in the medical arena, with new studies springing up worldwide. According to Emma Pennery, clinical director at Breast Cancer Care, awareness of the problem is growing among oncologists. Clegg puts this down to patients who are refusing to be fobbed off. "When patients ask to be heard and doctors listen," she says, "it can be transformative."

"Some doctors are investigating whether the cancer itself is causing chemobrain effects," says Clegg. "Certain cancers may release metabolic products that could cause these symptoms, or the symptoms could be part of the body's immune response to the cancer." Elsewhere, researchers are investigating whether the symptoms in women could be related to lowered oestrogen levels caused by chemotherapy. "It is very difficult to untangle contributing factors," says Pennery. "There are so many different types of cancer treatment and these can all cause stress, depression and profound fatigue, all of which can affect your memory, concentration and ability to focus."

Pennery says that women who call the Breast Cancer Care helpline often complain that doctors dismiss these symptoms, "or put them down to stress, depression, fatigue or the menopause." When they hear that there may be concrete physical causes, and that the condition usually abates a year or two after the chemo finishes, their relief is palpable.

Chemobrain ... How to cope with the effects:
• Discuss symptoms with your clinician or specialist care team – don't try to hide them.
• Get help with other supposedly "manageable" chemotherapy side-effects that can have a knock-on effect, such as night sweats, which disturb sleep, which in turn can reduce cognitive function.
• Stay organised. Use calendars or planners and write everything down.
• Take frequent breaks: divide tasks up, and rest each time you complete a part.
• Exercise your brain: do crossword puzzles and number games, take up a new hobby, or learn a new skill.
• Exercise your body: moderate exercise can help with stress, fatigue and depression.
• Hang on in there: studies show that symptoms lessen a year after chemotherapy and decrease even more two years on.