Five down...one to go!

I see it now!
The finishing line, for this course of chemo.
I've had chemo number 5 administered (went in on Thursday 29th)
Number 6...I'm coming to get you!
Hang on....
What's that obstacle in the way?
A bone scan?
What?
Because of this pain in my vertebrae?
Oh dear.
If the cancer's in my spine...
Then I'm in trouble...
Bugger.


Yes - sorry to put a dampener on my descent to the bottom of the mountain. I've had a specific pain in a specific vertebrae that's been monitored for the past 6 weeks. Not worth a previous mention - I hoped it had materialised by a LOT of sitting down, lying down & lazyitis in the past 5 months. As a working Mum & wife...one is just not used all this slow motion. Anyway, after my consultation with the senior oncologist, Scratchcard, on Thursday prior to chemo 5, a bone scan has been ordered & I will attend, at Exeter, within the next two weeks. We have also been advised to observe for significant markers for spinal cord compression, since the pain is in my spine. Very quick intervention, should I notice these markers, could prevent paralysis. I know, I know...I don't do things by halves....I'm usually a pain in the butt....but now a pain in the spine! It's also disappointing, because if the cancer has spread already to my bones, or metastasised, then there is no cure, only management of the condition.
Personally, I'm holding out for a nice slipped disc, a bit of physio, a rub down by a hunk & a sigh of relief.
But, anyone praying out there, can I be greedy & ask for an extra - 'no secondary cancer - thanks'? The primary I'm dealing with ta & I'm not ready yet for secondaries. I've got too much to do!


I'm making plans for 2012.
Nice ones.
A trip to Lapland to find Santa Claus with Lily, in December 2012 has been approved by my Gang of Three.
We can't do hot, hot, hot holidays this year because of sun sensitive chemo skin, but I'd like a few days in Derbyshire/Nottinghamshire - visiting all our friends.
Paris & Disneyland Paris.
A motor home jaunt around Devon & Cornwall, beaches, surfing (OK - I'll be looking after the towels!), fresh food, fish, seafood, local cheese, wine, cider etc.
Learn to sing properly...OK in tune, then!
Dust off my piano & play more
Enjoy every day with my family & friends
And finally - not to waste time worrying about me not working, finances, downsizing. I don't care where we live, or how much we have materially, so long as I can be a wife, mummy, daughter, sister, aunty & friend for many more years.


We've had a super Christmas. It's been about family and friends. Watching Lily play Mary on Christmas eve in church, by Christingle candle-light, is a sight I won't ever forget - and a wonderful reminder of the meaning of this celebration. Being with friends for mulled wine & nibbles. The joy of Lily, when she realised her sellotaped Santa barricade had not been breached. The taste of a familiar Christmas lunch provided by my Mum & Dad - which tasted to me, the best! And being with my Gary. Whispering 'we did it - we got to Christmas' & re-affirming our love for each other...all together 'ahhhhhh !'x
Aunty Jean Graver has been with us for the duration, (10 days) and returns later to day, up north, by train. She's been delightful company; a very easy & helpful guest. I wouldn't usually let my guest tackle two loads of ironing, washing up, cooking, looking after & entertaining Lily during their stay - but admittedly I didn't protest too much! She introduced me to sherry at 6pm (!) and also provided comfort to Gary. Jean was courting & married to Bill's brother Derek for nearly 50 years (until he sadly passed away 7 years ago) - so knows more about the Graver's than anyone else surviving! We have been able to talk, and laugh about family very easily & openly & this has been therapeutic for Gary, as this his first Christmas without his Dad, Bill. Thanks Jean!


So what next before chemo 6?

• An appointment scheduled next week Thursday 5th Jan with another clinical oncologist, whom I shall call 'One-sheet' - to discuss the upcoming radiotherapy treatment. (By the way - local friends - I'm asking for help with transport to Exeter on a daily basis for about 4 weeks. If anyone can spare one trip to Exeter & return - using my car or or I'll reimburse petrol costs, I'd be most grateful! Many thanks!)
• Wait for bone scan appointment. If you are thinking about my full body scan I had earlier in the process - that one looked at organs, tissues etc. The next scan will specifically look at bone - so is a different kind of scan.
• I've invited to a 'Look Good - Feel Great' day at the hospice - a day of pampering, & top tips, with lunch on the 13th Jan.
• Another reiki massage booked (why not?!!!)
• Some therapy booked - again at the hospice, so I can blub away in private.
• Lunch with my 'ladies who lunch'
• Oh - and I suppose I better rest too......hahaha x

On that note...I wish you all a very Happy New Year 2012! and look forward to seeing as many of you as we can during the next 12 months.
Enjoy!
Have fun!
Much love! xx

Merry Christmas!

Of course, it gives me great pleasure to say Merry Christmas to you!
I'm so very, very glad.
It's been a wonderful day.
And I'm here, and well enough to enjoy it.

We started the day at a very reasonable (when you have a six year old!) 8am.
The front door had been sellotaped up, as had the lounge door. Lily wanted to be very sure that despite his girth, and the size of wished for gifts, that Santa would actually come down the chimney. She left a black bin liner in front of the fire - to capture any evidence - footprints and the like - of Santa, Rudolph, and her new best friend, Alfie the Elf. She's been corresponding with Alfie since November. Letters, pictures, cookies left on the fire, for Alfie. Believe me it's been exhausting to remember to ensure the return correspondence was a) written by next morning and b) covered in snow for authenticity. But it's been a joy.
So, with forensics appropriately applied - snow footprints on the black bin liner of Santa, Rudolph & Alfie, and the downing of the large glass of port, half chewed carrot, half-eaten apple & crumbs from yet more cookies - the scene was set this morning for Miss Lily Marple.
And it was perfect.
Santa had definitely been!
Our little girl was delighted.
And I was glad to be alive.
Breakfast of Bucks Fizz, croissants & home-baked ham, was followed by a right good Christmas lunch, courtesy of Mum & Dad. Proper job! Thanks!
Back by 5.30pm - it was right to let Lily come back home to a room full of toys & gifts.
Some play time & a rest for me.
Dr Who.
Bath-time & bed for a happy little girl.
Downton Abbey (Oh yes - love it!)
And a reflection now, of how lucky I am.
I love Christmas. I love giving gifts. I love the look on my little one's face when the sellotape barricade hasn't been breached. And I love the fact that I'm here.
Five months ago, in the BCN's office, there were no guarantees. I had to get to Christmas.
It was my first major goal.
Well here I am.
And I'm giving myself a pat on the back.
And sending BIG thanks to everyone who has helped me, thought about me, prayed for me, messaged me, pep-talked me and pushed me through the mire.
Have a very Merry Christmas.
Enjoy every minute.
I am!

Splendid Moriarty!

I decide to check out the emergency Chemotherapy Out of Hours Service at the North Devon District Hospital this weekend.
I choose my timing well.
3am, Friday night/Saturday morning.
Nightclub chucking out time.
I view the special yellow 'Emergency Chemo' card to ensure I fit one or more of the categories. Temp above 38ºC (not quite), feel very unwell (check),  difficulty breathing (check), chest pains (check) etc.
Waking Gary first - well I wouldn't want him to miss out - I proceed.
The bleeped number is answered by a bright cheery voice.
With laboured breathing, I whisper, hoarsely, my name, DOB, and symptoms. Hope she takes me seriously because I sound like a nuisance heavy breather call.
And I stress the fact that 'I don't want to make a fuss'.
Cheery voice will ring me back when she's located my notes.
Cheery voice does ring back.
She's already spoken to the doctor & I am to go in.
A bed in a side room has been made available.
They are waiting for me.
Speed of light.
This is the NHS.
Gary doesn't complain that he's only just flown in from a business trip & had 4 hours sleep, and kindly takes me on the 10 minute journey to the hospital. Our arrival wakes up the sleeping security. 
There's not another soul in sight.
Where's all the loutish Friday night drunks, still wearing Christmas party hats, picking fights with each other? Where's the girls in short skirts, no coats (you'll catch your death going out like that) a pair of impossible killer heels in one hand & a vomit filled handbag in the other? 
Where's the worried parent of the 13 year old, who's being pumped out with salt water, after drinking the entire contents of their best friend's Mum & Dad's drinks cupboard?
No.
This is Devon
And Devon is asleep.
On arrival, we are shown to my little side room.
We are treated with kindness and efficiency. And a fresh hot cup of tea.
Obs are done.
A doctor does a very thorough examination of me (well I am a unique specimen after all!)
Lots of blood taken.
ECG
Chest Xray.
Breakfast. For me & Gary.
Sleep.
More Obs.
A consultant & team arrive.
Bloods are permissible at this stage of the chemo cycle (day 8).
Chest XRay - clear.
I've got viral tracheitis. Just like the majority population in this area.
Just like Gary.
Just like lovely Lily.
Bacteria cultures are being grown over the next 48hours - just to be certain.
Hurrah! I think.
I am normal.
And I can go home.
Splendid Moriarty!
Splendid!

Who could ask for more?

Mission 4 accomplished!
Chemo administered on Thursday.
The oncologist, the lovely Spanish Martini, is pleased. She hugs & kisses both Gary & me - just her way! My white blood cell count pretty good,  thanks to the self injecting bone marrow booster I now have. Red blood cell count dropping - not so good. Causing breathlessness (thought I was becoming an unfit lazy madam - sitting down for three months!), tiredness, anaemia, pale skin etc. Will be monitored but a blood transfusion on the cards  Hopefully before Christmas - to give me a perky pick me up. Two thirds of the way through. 66.6% of chemo course now whizzing round my whole body - seeking out & zapping naughty stray cancer cells.
The bottom of the mountain is definitely in sight.
Next round scheduled for Dec 29th. It's good timing, because the last week before chemo I do feel pretty good & that covers (hopefully this time!) the main Christmas days.
Aunty Jean - who many of you know, is arriving on Wed 21st Dec. Last minute Christmas shopping Friday. Lily is Mary at the church Nativity on Christmas Eve. An invite for mulled wine & mince pies follows at some great friends who have been having Lily for tea every week since my chemo started (Big Thanks!x).
And then - Santa's coming! Yippee!

I am incredibly lucky you know....
I have fairy godmothers/fathers..aka Mum & Dad. I happen to mention that, due to the chemo, the skin on my hands is splitting. Covered in plasters - look like I have shaken hands with Edward Scissorhands! They turn up, a few hours later with two types of hand cream, some soft white cotton gloves for bedtime, and two pairs of Marigolds for daytime! Cool! Dad also produces, hand-reared home cured bacon, home-made scotch eggs, homemade bakewell tarts.(But no goat!) Mum sets about the ironing. How blessed am I? Thank you x.
I have a VBF who give me a virtual slap when I'm being daft or maudlin. Who gives me brilliant pep talks. Who sends me love in bucket loads. She should be a life coach. Love you.
Another friend wanted to travel 200 miles by train, to take me for lunch & travel 200 miles back again in one day. I had to pass - not quite up to it - but a brilliant idea - and I'm truly lucky. Thanks mate. Love you x
I have other special friends who do things for me without me asking - particularly with Lily. New friendships have been formed because of the daft predicament I'm in. And I'm grateful.
Then there's the Hospice - who have come up trumps. Our local hospice is sort of in two parts. Of course there is the place where folks go to have a peaceful, loving, pain free end and then there is a section for folks like me. Life-threatening illness, undergoing treatment, needing some external support. I had a great counselling session last week. I went in. Blubbed for an hour solid. Spent 90% time talking about Gary - whom I knew I was worried about, but didn't realise quite how much. Got a few things straight in my head.
On Monday I went there again for a Reiki massage. Now I'm not going to be rude about it (!) - when you are in my position - you'll take anything on offer! But lets say it wasn't the Hamam, hot Turkish bath, slap & rough rub, massage I've had several times in Turkey. Nor was it the two beautiful big black mamas massage we had in St Lucia - who got rid of every knot or tight muscle that ever existed. Nor was it the tiny four foot nothing, weighing 5 stone Thai girls, who gave us a true Thai massage on a fabulous holiday in Thailand, while we were wearing cotton pyjamas. Now they did tie us in knots - literally - I know I'm double-jointed in places - Lily inherited it from me - but good heavens - I saw places on my body I'd never seen before! No. This was having a chat about specific worries. My urgent one of Christmas. Lying on a bed. The room smells nice. There's twinkly Japanese music in the back ground. The Reiki master places her very warm hands on my feet. Then moves up my body. Gently. No massage. Through the use of this technique, practitioners believe that they are transferring universal energy (reiki) in the form of ki (a living thing) through the palms that allows for self-healing and a state of equilibrium. Not normally for me. A bit hocus-pocus. I probably wouldn't ordinarily sign up for it. But you know what - I lay down, in comfort, relaxed, told myself to stop fretting about Christmas, somebody was taking care of me. It was nice. Did I feel energy? No not really. But I'll do it again. Why not? And I'm grateful. I feel lucky to have that service, free of charge, to be offered to humble old me.
So yes. I'm incredibly lucky.
A wonderfully supportive extended family.
A whole network of friends, old and new.
Huge groups of folks I don't know round the world, praying for me.
Fantastic local NHS hospital/GP service, sorting at speed, my diagnosis and treatment.
A Charity run hospice filling in the gaps of counselling and complimentary therapy.
And Gary.
And Lily.
Who could ask for more?
Not me.
No.
Not me. x

Christmas is coming...

OK!
I declare Christmas officially started!
Our tree is up & decorated....early by our normal standards.
Completely OTT..but tastefully so.
My presents are purchased & awaiting wrapping for the elves to collect & give to Santa (!)
I'm planning food, menus, events...
Because this is going to be a good one.
Because I'm afraid that this will be my last.
And before you shout - 'what a ridiculous thing to say' - the truth is - we don't know.


I'm still pretty emotional. It's like I've got loads of corks all over me bunging up holes. Then every now & then one pops and I leak tears. Sometimes several corks go at one time and a dam erupts. It's unfortunate for anyone around at this point. Nurse Gladys Emmanuel was OK - she was used to it. I'm not sure the call-centre girl at Santander was quite prepared for it when I complained about a late-payment charge..on a payment that had clearly reached my account on time. As I howled down the phone she put me on hold & then passed me to a 'special' adviser. The charge got dropped...what else could they do with a howling, snivelling woman? Pass me through to the Samaritans?
Talking of Samaritans..I am now under the Hospice umbrella. I have my own palliative care nurse who visited me last week. A lovely kind, and honest person. I questioned my validity to be taken care of by the Hospice - I don't want to take someone else's place, who is more needy. And it was hard - very hard - to hear the words that I have 'a complex cancer' with an 'uncertain future' and 'we don't know what's ahead'. I knew this. I keep telling everyone this. But it reinforces the truth.
And so my immediate fright of Christmas. It has to be the best, most special, most memorable. It will be emotional - but the hospice counsellor I saw on Friday, says so what? it's OK to feel emotion. Gary will feel strange, as it's the first without his Dad. We will feel joy and relief that I'm still here, coupled with paralysing fear that I might not see another. Lily will be overjoyed that Santa has actually managed to source everything on her wish list and more. She won't realise that much of it is second-hand or home-made - but these are austere times - especially in the current unplanned one salary Graver household. Well - we are children of the 60's - we never had a new bike or new scooter and I was thrilled, as a 5 year old, to have a nurses uniform made out of one of Matron's old ones, complete with frilled cuffs and cape. We still had an orange and some nuts in our stocking. Our advent calender was a candle with number 1 - 24 on that we burnt each evening as a countdown - not a chocolate in sight. And a tin of Roses lasted the WHOLE of Christmas. And didn't it always snow?
And I never worried that my Mummy might die. If I could take that worry away from Lily I would.
Simple maths when you are six. Grandad + cancer = dead. Mummy + cancer = ?


So I'm off for a Reiki massage tomorrow at the hospice. Ooo-er missus. Have no idea what this will entail. I've had many a Swedish, sports and a Thai massage (in Thailand). But not this. Wish me luck. I do hope my very rich, sublime but hideously expensive James Martin Shepherds pie doesn't come back to haunt me!
Free insulation on Tuesday...should be toasty by Tuesday night.
Bloods Wednesday.
Chemo 4 Thursday.
Shite Friday....


But remember
I get by with a little help from my friends,
I get high with a little help from my friends,
Going to try with a little help from my friends (The Beatles)
Thank you x