Primum non nocere

Day 111  

General status update

Fatigue/weakness: Immense. All-enveloping.

Eyes: it’s a good thing I know this vision problem is a chemo side effect, because otherwise I’d be thinking that I was starting to go blind.

Anxiety level/insane euphoria (+/- 1-10,000): far too tired to be anxious, and the euphoria waits on Thursday’s Dexy delivery.

Nausea demon: Away. With the Benedictine monks at Worth Abbey. Learning how to do Gregorian chant. Allegedly. By strange coincidence, StepSisFo (Major) told me today that she said a prayer for me in Worth Abbey recently, which is excellent news. I’m all for the praying and the ‘holding in the light’ - ALL orisons, of whatever nature, very gratefully received here in Trying To Avoid Death Central.

Despair Demon: now well and truly sunk into his very own Slough of Despond, which is a bit of a turn up for the book, given his particular line of work. I’m sworn to secrecy on this as far as the other Chemo Demons are concerned, because he fears losing all professional credibility should it become known that he is, er, depressed. I’ve suggested Prozac, and he’s thinking about it.

Chemo Muse: given my current state of debility, she’s eased off a bit and is letting me do fairly short blog posts at the moment, but only on the understanding that as soon as we get some more steroids it will be all systems go again.

Chemo Brian: his Siren call from the sofa is constantly in my ears - just give me 5 more minutes to finish this, Brian, and I’m there.

State of mind: much like Shackleton towards the end of the Endurance expedition, I imagine. Not long to go now…

Hair: fomenting revolt amongst the follicles in protest against its lack of maintenance– don’t get too cocky, Hair: I could always choose NOT to deep-freeze my skull in screaming agony with the Cold Cap for the last dose of FEC, and then where would you be? In a pile on the floor within 10 days, that’s where, so watch it.

Primum non nocere - ‘first, do no harm’ – is one of the basic principles of medical ethics, instilled into doctors at medical school; it is meant to remind them that, given any particular medical problem, it is sometimes better not to do something, or to do nothing, rather than risk causing more harm than good. It reminds doctors that they must consider the possible harm that any intervention might do, especially interventions that carry an obvious risk of harm but a less certain chance of benefit.

The harm that medical interventions can do is much on my mind today because at the moment I’m very weak, my brain is fuzzy and my vision is blurred, and sitting at the computer to write is really quite hard to do. Going for a walk, which I tried to do this afternoon, was more of a challenge still; my legs feel floppy and rubbery, my whole body is suffused with weakness, and this is what the chemo has done to me, not the cancer.

Chemotherapy treatment is designed to do you harm: it can only kill the cancer if it’s also nearly strong enough to kill the patient who is incubating the disease, and it only works if you have repeated doses over an extended period of time, the time in between each dose being the minimum compatible with patient survival.  So for the last four months, and five doses of chemo, it has all been about my recovering sufficiently after each dose of poison simply in order to be strong enough to survive being poisoned again.

Think about that, Dear Reader: all this business with the neutrophils, and making sure that the immune system has recovered each time – it’s all directed at making sure that the next dose of poison won’t actually kill you, and it’s a very fine line they draw. I will be so, so glad after the final dose of poison on Thursday to know that from that point onwards the toxins will gradually start leaving my body for good.

After Thursday, I won’t be just getting strong enough to be poisoned again: every day will mean a little less poison in my body, and this time it won’t be replaced. There will be the usual two weeks of nasty side effects, but after that I will be on the way to becoming strong, healthy and poison-free again. I will be getting strong enough to resume my life again, outside this chemical prison of the last 4 months; an invisible prison, but a prison nevertheless.

So, I’ve just got to get through another four days of this weakness, praying I’m going to be strong enough by Thursday to be poisoned again for the sixth and final time.

At last, FEC6.

Bring it on…