Sunday, 2nd April 2006

The power of the mind

The day before the third of my six cycles of chemotherapy I was inexplicably tired. Worse still, the nausea I experienced when I had completed the last course of anti-sickness drugs mysteriously returned as did the dryness in my mouth and the metallic taste. I puzzled for a while over this as it had been nearly three weeks since my last session of chemotherapy. It now seems obvious that the symptoms were psychosomatic. My mind had begun to anticipate what was about to happen and my body was simply responding to messages sent by the brain. I have often heard the expression 'the power of the mind' and here was clear evidence that this phenomenon existed and was real. Fortunately for me, I was lucky enough to spend the afternoon with one of the other mothers from school: Lisa. Our sons have been in the same class since they were very little so we have a common interest, also Lisa has been very helpful taking Joshua to school on days when I have had to go for scans and other medical appointments. Like many parents, she juggles jobs around the school timetable. One of these is beauty treatments such as manicures and pedicures. Lisa had previously offered to give me a manicure and I decided to accept her kind offer. A good decision the day before the next set of injections. It took my mind off something which, quite frankly, I was not looking forward to and we talked about home improvements, our children and holidays. Now, here is an insight into the workings of my brain: I can talk about holiday destinations all day and never run out of ideas of where to go and what to do:that is, before reality sets in. But who needs reality these days? Escapism is far more liberating. I walked back to the house and my symptoms evaporated into the Spring air as I began to relive memories of last Summer's family holiday in Scotland.

I had however gone for a blood test that morning and very soon began to wonder whether the results would be sufficiently high enough to certify me fit for the next series of injection. I consulted my record book and reminded myself what my blood results had to be in order to qualify for the third chemotherapy session. It was all quite simple and straightforward:

Full blood count readings ______My actual blood test results
needed to qualify for chemo. ____before cycle two.

Haemoglobin >10 _________ -_-.___12.6

Platelets >100 ___ _________ _____208

White blood cells >3 _______- _ ._.__3.1

Neutrophils >1.5 ___ _______ __ ___1.7

The blood count readings prior to cycle two of chemotherapy were not great; I barely scraped a pass on two of the measures. However I reflected on my strategy of regular exercise, my juicing regime, and my own determination. I was anxious although quietly confident my results would prove good enough to allow me to sail through the half way mark. I told Bryan I would be able to cope with this next round on my own and drove myself to the hospital singing along to Stevie Wonder at the top of my voice. The oncology nurse read out my blood results with a smile on her face: my recovery was improving and the results were good enough and in some cases better than cycle 2. I was passed fit to take Cycle 3.

My cycle 3 blood results

Haemoglobin 12, Platelets 280, White blood cells 3.3 and Neutrophils 1.7

As I was being hooked up for the drugs in the oncology suite at the hospital I chatted to the oncology nurse about my juicing, new diet etc. Whatever damage the drugs were doing to certain parts of my body, my mouth has thankfully remained in perfect working order. The nurse, waiting for a chance to get a word in edge-ways, then warned me that this next series of drugs might induce more severe side effects. I looked at her and thought, “Nice of her to tell me, but it probably won't be that bad.” For once, her predictions were borne out by what happened over the following week to ten days. Once I completed the course of anti-sickness drugs, the symptoms I had previously experienced, returned however in a more pronounced way. For forty-eight hours I felt like sleeping all the time. The nausea created a knot-like sensation in my stomach which made drinking water never mind my beloved veggie juices virtually impossible. The dryness in my mouth was more severe and the metallic taste pervaded everything I tried to eat. I suffered nosebleeds, dizzy-spells was unable to shrug off the tiredness all week and became constipated to boot. I was able to keep food down however and was not prevented from taking the children to school, taking charge of bed-time, cooking and filling laundry bags for my mother and mother-in-law. But it took over ten days before I felt I had my body back and I felt wretched, depressed and began to think the unthinkable: could I really face another three of these dreadful injections? I quickly came to my senses. I was half-way through this ordeal. On April 11th, I would be taking my fourth series of injections. The penultimate series is scheduled for 2nd May and the last 23rd May. These gruelling repetitive cycles were coming to an end. This was not the time to waver. It is true I have, on occasions, felt like a mariner lost at sea but I reminded myself I had a compass, better still I had plotted my course, had become a confident navigator and held the end of the voyage clearly within my sights.