BB Blog — mets
Posted by Emilienne Rebel on
Sara has a new blog posting over on 'A Great tit' about the latest curve ball...
"The last month has been really hard and very stressful. I may as well have been floating about the ocean on flotsam – I’ve felt that helpless. I am not some pink ribbon bedecked Boudica spoiling for a fight; I’m a scared little kid that wants someone to come save her.
Physically I’m doing very well. I’m virtually pain free and to a stranger I must seem perfectly healthy. Following my last scan, I was told that I’m responding to my current treatment regime better than your average patient. Well of course I am! And I’m mighty proud of myself. In fact, if there was a treatment leaderboard I’d like to think I’m at the top! “Go big or go home!”
Perhaps it was this ‘super patient’ skill that made them offer me an additional treatment, who knows, but it was quite the curve ball! Totally up to me, window of opportunity not open indefinitely, we need an answer – c’mon! Chop, chop!
(For those of you who may be interested, the drug is called Abemaciclib, it’s a CDK4/6 inhibitor. I’ve only recently conquered the pronunciation, so I’m not going to try and explain what it’s meant to do. Google is your friend!)
First time around I took and endured everything that was offered or prescribed. I wanted to live and that was the treatment goal. This time it’s different. There are treatments aplenty available to me, but none offering a cure, and the possibility of life without any treatment is no longer an option. Consequently, my choices are measured and defined more by the quality of my life than my longevity. If it’s possible to have both then obviously I want to seize the chance – if only everything was clear cut, but it isn’t."
Posted by Emilienne Rebel on
A friend Sara Hindhaugh has started this beautifully written blog about her journey living with Cancer. Her initial diagnosis and treatment path was similar to mine, but now Sara is facing harsh new realities of secondary cancer.
"...Two days later I was back in hospital and knew, instinctively, that it wasn’t going to be good news. (I’ve learned over the years that when a nurse walks in with a doctor it’s usually a sign of trouble.) My consultant doesn’t muck about with sharing information, just comes straight out with it. “We’ve got the results of your bone scan – it’s not good. You do have secondaries.” Boom! All the air was sucked out of the room in an instant and every sound was amplified. Very weird. I didn’t cry, at least I don’t think I did. I know I said ‘thank you’ a lot. How British of me. ‘Thank you, thank you so much’, ‘yes, of course, thanks’ WTF? It’s hard to describe the shock of hearing news like that. I remember thinking it was odd that they didn’t seem bothered with the stuff they’d found on my right breast anymore. I did ask, but I can’t remember what was said. I cracked a sweary joke about it that made my mate Beth laugh out loud and then feel instantly guilty and inappropriate, but we needed that release."
Follow Sara's blog A Great Tit here: