I slowly recover and it's soon time to prepare for round 2 of the chemo. The district nurse comes, as they do every Wednesday, and takes blood to make sure my blood count is fit enough to take more chemo. Later that evening, after eating our evening meal, we get a disturbing phone call. The doctor on the line tells me my potassium levels are dangerously; high my heart could stop at any minute. I am to go straight to A&E - they will be expecting me. I grab the overnight bag and Gary drives me in. We're all worried.
On a bed in a ward, hooked up to a heart monitor, and heart tracing - more bloods are taken. Several hours later the results are in. My potassium is OK. Drama over. I can go home. Nearing midnight I ponder whether I should get a taxi home or phone and wake Gary. I decide on the latter and wake him from his slumber. He gallantly offers to come and pick me up. More bloods are taken in the morning and I'm declared fit enough to get my chemo the next day.
Friday 26th March sees me taking chemo number 2. The actual act of accepting chemo into my body is easy. I'm hooked up to various drugs via my PICC line. It doesn't hurt but the whoosh of drugs is palpable. After about 4 hours, I leave, woozy, slightly drunk and weirdly optimistic. That's the steroids talking - the large doses I'm on for three days give you a sense of well-being.
I'm up and about for day one and two - the steroids doing their job. I administer the dreaded bone marrow boosting drug. They've given me one long lasting injection, rather than 7 days of injections, to try and minimise the dreadful sides effects I had last time - horrendous bone and muscle pain. Day three and I crash. Big time. I feel so ill - I actually think I'm dying. Nothing I do helps. I try and lie very still ans every movement is painful, my body is full of drugs, my head is spinning. I did that thing where you tell yourself, if I get up and have a shower, I'll feel better. I don't. I feel worse. I'm not sure I can do this - it's too much. Gary's worried but tries to reassure me that next week I'll feel better. I find it hard to believe him. Day four is much the same. Days five to sixteen are a very very slow recovery. Each day I feel chemo-y. Full of drugs. Giddy. Joint, bone and muscle pain. Quite frankly it's rubbish and I'm finding it hard to keep positive. Everything tastes foul. Now I love a bit of Cadbury's Dairy Milk. everyday I have a bit of my Easter egg and everyday it tastes disgusting. It takes until day 18 after chemo for it to taste right. That's a relief as I'm driving Gary mad - I keep throwing milk away thinking its off.
