Food for thought

Sunday, 26th February 2006

We continue our healthier eating at home. I have noticed our supermarket bill go up by 30 to 40 per cent. This is due mainly to the increased consumption of organic produce which the books I have read written by nutritionists suggest is best; not all food experts share this view.

Sir John Krebs who until last year was head of the food standards agency (www.foodstandards.gov.uk) was quoted in an article published in The Guardian earlier this week as saying “ My advice would be not to worry too much about the organic [sic] but worry about your kids having more vegetables.” He was also quoted as saying that eating foods with lower salt and fat content is more important than simply increasing purchases of organic produce. This has drawn criticism from the soil association (www.soilassociation.org) who naturally are strong advocates of organic produce. Closer to home the subject of eating organic produce came up in the staff room at the school where Bryan teaches music. The science teacher told him something which I found quite alarming but entirely plausible and it was this: toxins produced by pests crawling inside vegetables are potentially more harmful to humans than pesticide residues. What do we do ? As a consumer I read the case for and against organic food and listen to the arguments; however, the bottom line is that I do not have first-hand evidence so cannot really refute or accept any of the logic. Like so many people I need to make an informed judgement. I must admit, I really like the idea of organic produce, however, the economics are challenging which means I will become more selective but also remain focused on sustaining what has become a vegetable based diet.

The other day Bryan tried out a recipe with tofu as an ingredient. Susannah Olivier and Jane Plant, both respected authors, wax lyrical about the health benefits associated with soya products so we thought we might as well try a tofu dish. Prior to November last year, I would have placed anyone who cooks with tofu in the same category as those who sprout their own vegetables (see entry dated 29.1.06). I took one look at the rubbery, cream coloured cuboid shapes on the plate and knew this would be a meal we would remember for a long time to come. However, Bryan had taken the time and trouble to make the meal from scratch, so I tried the stuff, after all sometimes appearances can deceive. It was not to be on this occasion and, before long I had to resist the urge of throwing the damn things at the French windows, just for the hell of it, to see whether they would stick or wobble down the glass. In the end we ate most of everything else on the plate which included spinach, mushrooms,celery carrots and noodles. The tofu went straight into the bin and has not found its way into our supermarket trolley since.

Later, during the week, Bryan and I concluded that almost two months of healthy eating was all well and good: we have both lost weight and feel a lot better but something was missing. It seemed like an eternity since we had had a leaf-free meal. So on Saturday we tucked into an Indian take away complete with a glass of the mandatory Cobra beer. Afterwards we waddled across to the sofa in the living room to watch the highlights of the four-man bob-sleigh competition at the Winter Olympics. A perfect evening.

As the second cycle of chemotherapy looms on 28th February, I have been busy trying to get the house ready for the lethargy that will make even the simplest of household tasks such as loading the washing machine less attractive than usual. And, let's face it, these things are chores at the best of times. During the last few days the inevitable has finally happened: I have started to lose my hair and am now shedding tufts by the hour. My scalp has felt tingly and ached quite a bit as if I have had long hair tied back in a very tight pony tail for several hours. This prompted a visit to the Lynda Jackson Macmillan centre (www.ljmc.org) based at Mount Vernon hospital. My Macmillan nurse told me about the centre which fortunately is not far from us. The centre, entirely staffed by volunteers, has a stock of head-wear for women who are about to lose their hair. I purchased a number of items: a little blue cap for night-time which Bryan says makes me look like a sperm, a turban for I don't know when but makes me look more like a washer woman (so less like a sperm) and finally a scarf with a tie-back bow which makes me look like an extra from Oklahoma. Unfortunately they didn't have any brown paper bags with a couple of holes at the front that I could put over my head: these were the items I was really hoping to find. Bryan assures me he will make one up for me as soon as I give him the go-ahead.

When I got back home I started to prepare for the arrival of the boys from school. Bryan has an endearing habit of taking off his tie the moment he gets in, rolling it up, and leaving it wherever he finds an empty space on a shelf, window ledge or on top of the coat cupboard in the hall. I usually collect all these 'roll ups' during the course of the week and hang up the ties on the tie rack in his wardrobe. But last week I snapped: “Can't you put your own ties away for change?” To which he replied: “All right, keep your hair on.”

February half term

20th February 2006

The children have been off school all last week and, despite persistent quizzing from our eldest son, we managed to keep activity plans fairly hazy in detail. In theory this should be the week when the drugs would really 'hit me'. (Conscious of this, I have been scrutinising my pillow every morning. Have I started to moult? So far everything has remained in place but I know it's early days.) I tossed my locks to one side and focused on the entertainment programme for the week ahead. By the time the second cycle of chemo drugs go in, I shall be as bald as a coot.

Friends came to the rescue. Two of these have recently swapped a London address with their three children for a home in the Oxfordshire countryside and we were invited to join them for a day and visit a wildlife park in the area. I thought the journey would be too long – in the end it was fine. After a short tour of the new abode, we set off from Bob and Jessica's house – Jessica was at work that day so we missed her – but Bob coped brilliantly and offered to bundle two of his three children plus the four of us into his Land Rover and take us to the park. Just as well, as we would have never found it by ourselves. The children had a wonderful time at the wildlife park: they saw rhinos, lions, zebras, llamas, all sort of monkeys and a rather jolly collection of penguins to name some of the animals we saw. We agreed to meet up again and left in the afternoon. I made a mental note to pick a day when Jessica would be around as she is great fun too.

On Thursday my ex-flatmate and friend Ros, who also swapped an address in London for one in the countryside, took a detour from a visit to central London to see us. It was nice to see a familiar face and the children looked forward to seeing Ros who also has two boys. Her husband Graham took their children to one of the museums in town while we lunched and caught up with each other's news. We usually go to visit Ros, Graham and their boys in the new year but postponed those plans till a little later as this year as I was recovering from surgery and also had the prospect of the chemotherapy ahead.

Then, towards the end of the week, a friend from my university days, Katherine, braved the M25 and drove all the way from West Sussex with lunch and her two children to join me and my boys for a visit to a local bowling alley. The afternoon got off to a great start when we arrived to discover all the bowling alleys were fully booked. However luckily for me I had chosen a leisure complex which featured a climbing-frame area and football coaching. This saved the day. Katherine's children were great with Benjamin and I was spared the angst of trying to keep track of him. We returned to our house for late lunch/early supper. Katherine made a very tasty soup and brought enough for another meal. I have since put the soup in a container and it is now perfectly preserved in our freezer as a wholesome standby for one of the days I am bound to get when cooking will not be an option.

Apart from being a good cook, Katherine is also a very good skier and was the captain of the ladies' ski team at Manchester University when I was there. We have been on a number of ski trips together. One of the most memorable for me was a trip to the Alps that took in a visit to Zermatt and Chamonix.

Chamonix (http://www.chamonix.com/) has a wonderful atmosphere nestling, as it does, within sights of the highest mountain in Europe: Mont Blanc. It is also one of Europe's most established ski venues and was the venue for the first Winter Olympics in 1924. (http://www.olympic.org/uk/games/past/index_uk.asp?OLGT=2&OLGY=1924) .

One of the things Katherine and I set out to do during our visit to Chamonix was ski the world famous Vallé Blanche. This is a spectacular off-piste 17 kilometre run with a vertical descent of 2800 metres and to reach it skiers and mountaineers alike have to take the Aiguille du Midi cable car to an altitude of 3842 metres. Once out of the cable car they must negotiate a rather narrow section of a mountain ridge with a 'whoa!-I-daren't-look' sheer drop which leads to the top of the valley from which skier or climber can begin their descent. Naturally, we went with a guide and took a picnic in our rucksacks. We were rewarded with stunning views during our descent and have the satisfaction of knowing that we have one more mountain peak 'ticked off on the list'. Zermatt proved to be stunning in its own way with the picture-postcard setting beneath the Matterhorn, but somehow it was our time in Chamonix that left an impression: one that will probably lure me back there one day.

Meanwhile, back in suburbia, I went to see my G.P who was pleasantly surprised to see me in such good shape and with a full head of hair. She advised me not to be disappointed with what will happen next and said that my recovery from each set of injections would get progressively more difficult. It is her job to tell me these sorts of things, however I was pleased that she took an interest in the diet I have put myself on; apparently three other women were diagnosed with breast cancer at our surgery around the same time as me and, judging from what was said to me, I seem to be the front-runner in terms of general fitness and health. This last week has gone remarkably well. I am having some of the side effects: a metallic taste in my mouth, mouth-ulcers, nausea, tiredness, but nothing that has so far proved unbearable. I hope it will get no worse, but I feel ready for whatever happens next.

Olympic Spirit

17th February 2006

Shortly after I graduated from Manchester University, I did my best to delay full-time work for as long as possible by training as a ski instructor. Well, I was a twenty two without a real clue of what I wanted to do with my life so this seemed to me to be as good idea as any and one, that to this day, I have never regretted. To pass ski exams you have, not surprisingly, to be able to ski very well and this is virtually impossible to accomplish without spending a lot of time practising on snow covered mountains. An expensive pursuit. So I worked here and there during the Summers in the UK to pay for the training and practice on the mountains. Eventually I reached my goal and on a freezing day in Aviemore I took the British Association of Ski Instructor's (BASI) test and achieved a respectable pass at Grade III, the entry point. Others, I knew went for BASI II and BASI I; these were people who looked like they would end up working for some time on a mountainous peak. Most of the other instructors I knew were content with the Grade III as this provided a permit to teach in Scotland and was recognised by travel companies who at the time were offering ski guiding jobs in the Alps. I applied to a travel firm informing them in my CV that I was a language graduate and that I spoke French and Italian hoping I would end up in either a French or Italian Ski resort. So, when an offer came through for a job in Austria, I was a little surprised. I had a job in a country I had never been to and had no knowledge of the language. But I didn't care. I was off to the Alps and, as luck would have it, to one of Austria's top alpine resorts Kitzbuhel (www.kitzbuehel.com). The Winter season that followed turned out to be one of the best I have ever had with the most laughs and happiest of skiing memories.

In subsequent years I made made an annual pilgrimage to the Alps and then one year managed to do something which every mountain enthusiast I have met wants to do: travel to the Himalayas. I was very lucky to be able to travel to Nepal and trek to a point where I could see Everest, or at least the bits not perpetually covered in cloud, with the naked eye. From time to time I take out my Nepalese trekking maps and retrace my route.

It will come as no surprise to learn I have been looking forward to the start of the Winter Olympics in Turin (www.torino2006.org) . The events that hold interest for me are the downhill ski races, the snowboarding, ski jumping and figure skating. The downhill races are always spectacular viewing:a combined test of technical expertise and athletic ability. In these events speeds of 125 kilometres per hour on steep mountain slopes are not for the fainthearted. Like many winter sports fans I was convinced the men's gold medal for the down hill would go to either one of two American skiers Daron Rahlves or Bode Miller or one of the great ski racers from the Austrian or Swiss teams. In the end it was the lightning speed of the French man Antoine Deneriaz who eclipsed the time of the other Olympians on the race course at Sestriere to take the Gold medal. It was a great win and one that Mons. Deneriaz will treasure the rest of his life.

However one of the most extraordinary feats for me came from the pairs figure skating. The lady in the brother and sister team from China, Zhang Dan and Zhang Hao, took a horrible fall on her knee only to recover a few minutes later to complete the routine and take the Silver medal. It must have taken a herculean effort and I was delighted she achieved a place on the podium. But perhaps the best moment came in an event which I can hardly bare to watch as it looks so dangerous: the skeleton sled . This is the sport where the athlete jumps onto a tiny sled and zooms head first down an icy track at very high speeds. I was delighted that Britain's Shelley Rudman took the Silver medal. I also marvelled at her bravery: it was rewarded with a place in Olympic history.

Yesterday afternoon, inspired by the athletes at the Olympics, I decided it was time for me to take some exercise. I went out for what I intended to be a gentle stroll in the park. After all, what else could I manage under the circumstances ?

As I began to walk my thoughts turned to other great Winter Olympians of the past such as Jean Claude Killy and Alberto Tomba; without realising it my pace quickened and I forgot the events of the last few months. In fact my legs completely forgot I am supposed to be weakened by the drugs I have had to take. I got to the park and saw other joggers enjoying the winter sunshine then started the familiar circuit that took me back home. Spurred on by either my own folly or the Olympic spirit, I continued running and found myself back at my front door sooner than I had planned, out of breath but feeling like I too had won something that day.

Shaken but not stirred

Monday, 13th February 2006

I woke up last Tuesday morning with mixed feelings; there was no getting away from it; I was going to have some fairly unpleasant drugs injected into my body; a body that might still be harbouring cancerous cells or one that has none. Either way, it didn't matter, I had to go through with it. However with children to get dressed, fed and ready for school there is little time to worry. After the children's breakfast, I got busy peeling carrots for my juice while Bryan began to prepare for the school run by helping the boys with coats and school bags. Just before going out of the front door, Benjamin came back into the kitchen to check with me that I was starting my 'strong medicine' today. I confirmed that I was. Whilst this has not cropped up in recent conversation, the fact I am to take this medicine has made an impact on his mind. I smiled, kissed his little curly head, waved goodbye and told him I would see him at home after school. He skipped off .

I make up about 275 ml of carrot juice and drank it hoping that it would be a tonic that would prepare my liver for the substances it would have to deal with later that morning. The appointment was for 9.45 am so after the school drop-off we headed for the hospital. The oncology nurse was welcoming and reminded me of what was going to happen. She showed me to a chair and said I would first have a saline drip. I asked about how the dosages of the drugs had been calculated. I was keen to check these had been calibrated against my height and weight. I was about to be injected with some very strong drugs; a wrong dose could be dangerous. The nurse was fine with my questions and ran through each drug and my notes so that I could see how the measures had been calculated. I felt more at ease after that and she quickly got down to business. Firstly a canula was inserted into a vein on my right hand. This device is made up of a fine needle with what looked like a valve that allows a number of drugs to be administered removing the need for several injections. The saline drip went in first followed by an anti-sickness drug and then I noticed the red drug epirubicin in what seemed to me a huge syringe. As the drug was administered via the canula it was uncomfortable but not unbearable. I began to drink water. When that was finished the cyclophasphamide went in and finally the 5FU. The nurse warned me that this last drug would make my eyes water and my nose become runny. I helped myself to tissues, however, in the end I was unaffected. The whole process took about and hour and a half. The nurse gave me a record book with details of all the drugs I had been given and a place to record symptoms plus a reminder to contact her or the duty sister if I felt ill. We agreed the next date for the treatment would be Tuesday 28th February providing blood tests proved my blood cells had recovered sufficiently well to withstand the next cycle. I was also given some anti-sickness tablets to take home and then some other tablets to take away the side effects of the anti-sickness pills. Mad really but there you have it.

I was not not sorry to leave and felt very grateful Bryan was there to drive me home. Benjamin attends school just half a day so knowing we would not be back in time my Dad had already offered to collect Benjamin. They both arrived shortly after we had got in and Benjamin was evidently happy to see me. I told him everything had gone well and also assured my Dad it had not been 'all that bad'. He left in good spirits saying that Mum was expecting him for lunch and that he would let her know. I then called my sister Rosemary to reassure her and that so far I felt fine. The oncology nurse said I would not experience any symptoms till about 4 pm that afternoon and that is when the tiredness and nausea would kick in a little however the real impact would not be felt until 7 – 10 days after . That is when the effects of the drugs would really manifest themselves. I got busy with more juicing and made the Bramley apple and Fennel juice mixture Professor Jane Plant recommends in her book. It's not something that would naturally occur to me to drink but, it is not unpleasant and, given the benefits it is supposed to bestow, it may just help me get through the chemotherapy. Time will tell.

During the hours that followed I felt a little lightheaded but otherwise well enough to walk to school to collect Joshua. I was greeted with smiles and hugs from two of the Mums in the playground waiting for their children. I assured them all had gone well. When Joshua came out we chatted about what he had done at school and I told him my day had gone well. We walked home and all seemed fine till about 4.30 pm. I began to feel slightly nauseous. I made an infusion of fresh ginger and lemon as Susannah Olivier says in her book this can help to combat nausea. It worked and I felt better. As the evening progressed I began to feel tired but it did not interfere with making supper for the children, or their bath and story time routines.

Now there are a lot of things I am bad at and one of them is taking tablets. The time came round to take the first of the anti-sickness tablets. I had to take two twice a day for three days. I later noticed on Thursday that I had in fact only started to take one of these twice a day. And yet the symptoms I experienced continued to be relatively mild in comparison to what I was expecting. I shrugged this off as 'beginners luck' and have made a mental note not to make the same mistake the next time round.

I went to sleep last Tuesday with a bucket next to my bed (it's still there) as I fully expected to be ill in the middle of the night however I wasn't and haven't been since. During the time since the drugs were administered I have times when I feel obviously tired but these do not last long. I continue to have spells of mild nausea and tiredness but that, for the time being, is it.

Preparations continue for the big day

Monday, 6th February 2006

Unfortunately this is not a wedding diary however I would much prefer to be deliberating on colour schemes, reception venues, invitation designs and of course choosing a dress. Those were the days. Instead I have been using the extra time to try to get the better of our laundry baskets and buy sufficient stores of quick foods that can be put together easily when I may not have enough energy to peel a potato. It may not come to that but I have to prepare myself and the rest of the family. Benjamin keeps asking me about my strong medicine and checking that it will start tomorrow. This awareness will help him come to terms with this next round of treatment.

Domestic chores have by no means overtaken everything and I have had time to explore my growing interest in the links between good diet and good health. I have been reading quite a lot and there seems to be a body of evidence to suggest that some supplements could help. I have opted for Milk Thistle and Astragalus. The first protects the liver and the second has been known to boost the immune system. As both my liver and immune system are going to come under a lot of pressure I decide there would be some merit in starting with these and I have been taking them for the last 10 days. I contacted my oncologist to ask whether I could take these two herbal preparations while having chemo and a message came back to confirm the above two supplements are fine to take in my own circumstances. Another book has been brought to my attention by someone who is also going through what I am experiencing and I am fortunate to have a loaned copy of “Your life in your hands” by Professor Jane Plant. It turns out to be another compulsive read and I am very grateful to my friend. My sister also has the book and like me is putting much of the advice which also features in Susannah Olivier's book into practice. Cutting down/out dairy produce seems to be really good for people's health also juicing vegetables is a fast way to deliver a healthy helping of goodness into your body. I have so far made carrot juice and fennel and Bramley apple juice both have been surprisingly tasty and not the rather sour experience I was anticipating.

I also find another article on the people of Okinawa and the lifestyle that makes many of them last till they are 100 years old. The islanders of Okinawa seem to have slowed down the aging process somehow. I become more intrigued and discover a whole industry of people trying to capture the good habits of the Okinawans. http://www.okinawa-diet.com/

I have also been thinking abouts wigs again. Should I buy one or settle for a head scarfe? Another lovely friend of mine who is also called Jackie agrees to accompany me into town to try on some wigs. It helped having someone else there to provide an objective view. We head for a department store and I try on wigs with different styles. I can't decide which to go for so any views/comments gratefully received. See pictures below. And, just for the record, I know I can't get away with blonde but who can blame me for wanting to have a go?

Style One

Style Two

Style Three (similar to No. 1)

Style Three (rear elevation)

Style Four (blonde)