Chemo 3

Three down and three to go!! Whoop whoop!! Half way!! (Not including the 6 months to a year of Herceptin, but the stuff that’ll make me bald and sick is nearly over!).

All in all a lovely day in the chemo suite being looked after by the world’s best nurses. Quite nerve-wracking as it was the first time using the newly fitted port which was still feeling quite tender. It wasn’t actually that bad and was fitted relatively easily. As they’ve fitted it right into the middle of my chest though it does mean having to de-bra and de-boob to get hooked up. Quite a surprise for my unsuspecting friend Beth who was special guest for the day and got to see the whole floor show – a before and after shall we say…?! More oddly she got quite attached to the feel of the detached fakey and was caught playing with it on more than one occasion… (Soz Bets…)

So all done and home to a cup of tea and Masterchef feeling very smug about still feeling fine and not yet feeling at all shoddy. Which lasted about an hour and a half. Seriously, who am I trying to kid? Nausea hit about 7ish – a wee bit of a bugger, but I suppose I can’t get away with feeling tip top all the time. I think after the last chemo session I blethered on about how if you can hold it in and not give in to the nausea it’ll pass. What a lie! Come 9 o’clock my stomach started bubbling and you just KNOW. It’s definitely not passing… And then everything’s a panic to get to the loo. But I’m under a rug and it gets tangled round my legs! And I can’t be sick on the rug – it’s CASHMERE! And my mouth’s filling up (you know – everyone knows…). And I get to the loo door and I can feel it coming and I don’t know if I can make it in time! And AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! The relief! I know it’s not nice being sick, but bloody hell it doesn’t half make you feel better. And, most importantly, it has proven that the cause of the bout last time was categorically NOT Ma Booth’s turkey curry…

So back to the sofa and Masterchef and generally feeling a bit bruised and battered (tip for the future – don’t watch offal on the telly when you’re feeling ropey). One more episode of throwing up (in my bin – nice), a ginger biscuit and bed.

To wake up this morning feeling relatively fine and loving the fact that it’s freeeeeezing outside and I can justifiably curl up in the warm with Holly and Eamonn…