Wednesday, 23 March 2016


If you read yesterday's post and thought I felt like this picture, you would be right:

And as I trudged into the hospital today, I felt every bit a husk. On top of that I felt fed up with myself, not just because i've reverted back to the sad beanie look and given up on any attempt to make myself look nice but also for letting the side down.  When I started this blog it was all upbeat and being positive to spite the cancer,  now I just moan. 
My favourite chemo nurse was waiting for me and it was him I first told I wasn't doing any more chemo.  "You have to finish it because if anything happens later on down the line and you didn't do it, who will you blame? Come to your last one and you will know you have fihushed it" he said. He had me on that one but as I then made my way along to see the oncologist,  the same thought was back. I cannot do any more.  Enough. 
It was a simple "How are you feeling?" that sparked a good old snot cry. 
I was straight in there with asking if I could sit out the final round.  It turns out there's a lot of science to back up why there are six rounds, so no passes. But the good news,  and at this stage it's enough to get me to go through with it,  is that having been on the highest dose of the hardest combo, the chemo has done it's job for the surgery. This last round will just be a mop up operation for any last rogues hanging about and because of that - they can half the dose.  So i'm summing up the last of my strength to get up off the floor and give it a knockdown punch. As well as feeling like one of the unfortunate souls from The Little Mermaid,  I guess I also feel a little like this today too:

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