The End of the Line: Archiving This Blog

Hello, everyone. I'm sorry for not updating - as always I have no excuse, but we're here now. This post will be my final post on this blog; It is now going to be an archive, so that everyone can read back on my posts when they wish to, but it will not be updated any further.

I want to start this post off by thanking you all for your unwavering support. Without your prayers, your love and your kindness, I believe that I wouldn't be where I am right now.

As of today, the 9th of February, 2017, I am officially cancer free. 

It's been a long, hard road. I like to think I've made the best of it, but as you can imagine, I'm glad it's over!! Cancer is a hard journey to go through - But through it all I have had so many amazing people standing alongside me and for that, I am ever grateful. I don't now how I can repay you all; I hope that my words, my thanks, will be enough. It might seem like nothing, but please know: You have changed a young girl's life.

When all this started, if I can be fully honest; I was unsure of whether or not I'd ever get to visit Iceland again, or go back to school, or chase my dreams the way I wanted to. I wasn't sure if I would make it through all this - my largest tumour was 12cm in diameter and had put so much pressure on my lung that it had partially collapsed. I was so scared - and in times of fear, we don't know what may happen.

Thankfully, God is good. My friends are good. My family are good - life is good. And there was always a plan for me. Now, I am sitting in front of my laptop, like any normal teenager would - I have some old, used dishes that I really need to take downstairs, (sorry, mum) my cat beside me, and everything just seems so... normal. You wouldn't think that, in some ways, I had stared death in the face, because here I am: out the other side.

I remember sitting in hospital ward A3, at 2 o'clock in the morning, with a fever - and my biggest fear, then, was getting my bloods taken. Looking back on everything I have been through, it seems so blurred - so hazy. And so, so far away.

I'm not complaining, however!

No, this chapter of my life is, in some ways, one that I hope to forget very, very soon. But in other ways - I hope it's one I'll never forget. I never want to forget the outpouring of love for me, or the amazing people I met through my journey. I never want to forget the kindness, the smiles, the love and the support. I know this chapter of my life, though hard, has bettered me.

My perspective on life has changed greatly since my diagnosis. Life is a new gift to me - and I have a perspective not many people my age do. With my life - the remainder, I could say, but I prefer to say the entirety - I am going to do what I love. After all, if you do what you love, you love what you do.

I am going to chase my dreams, be myself, and make myself happy. I am going to give my love to others. I am going to travel, and speak languages, and draw, and do everything that makes me happy.

Because I deserve it. Not just me - everyone deserves happiness.

Remember that, if nothing else, from this blog; We are in this together. We are all wonderful... And we all deserve happiness.

Thankyou for reading my blog on the way through. It will now be archived, but I hope you will take heart in every letter I have typed.

Much love, and many thanks,

Lana Douglas.

Methotrexate: #1

Today I want to write a bit about my first experience with methotrexate chemotherapy in the hopes that someone else, who might be going through it too, will have some insight into what it's like.
As I write this I'm in my hospital room, listening to the chatter coming from the corridors. I'm hooked up to an IV bag of fluids - 2h40m left in it - and feeling good.

On Monday, I had my PICC line reinstalled after it came out of my heart. I have my suspicions as to why it came out of my heart, but those are for me; besides, it doesn't really matter. What matters is that I have my PICC back in, not why it came out.

I had it reinstalled on Monday, and then I was moved up to ward C7 - the haematology ward. I was put onto a drip of IV fluids - 2 hours each - and stayed like that for about a day. Then, on Wednesday I was taken off of the fluids, given anti-emetics and some other stuff, and hooked up to a 15-minute drip of methotrexate to gauge my reaction to it before starting me on the larger bag.

I reacted well and had no ill-effects, so I was started onto the 3-hour bag right away. As before, no ill-effects; much better than the R-CHOP! (I still have bad memories of vomiting/fainting because of it...) So the methotrexate went by without a hitch.

I was then started onto fluids again, and this went on for about 16 hours. Every three hours, though, the bag was changed instead of every two. Then, after about 48 hours from starting my methotrexate, I was put onto folinic acid once every six hours to help my body flush out the methotrexate and prevent damage to my kidneys. (At least, that's my understanding - don't quote me on it!)

I am currently still on constant IV fluids and folinic acid every six hours, however my blood tests have been sent away to a lab to see what my methotrexate levels are. If they are below 0.1, I will hopefully be allowed home. Hopefully!

I've just eaten two bags of Doritos and am waiting for my family to join me here again. It's been a good day so far!

Much love, as always,
Lana

Dreams

For the past six months I have been hospitalized on and off, constantly battling something inside me; cancer. I need something to keep me grounded during all this, and the one thing I've been thinking of are my dreams.

My question for you is: Should you chase your dreams, even if it means risking everything in the process?

My dreams have been constant in my life, but as I start to make serious plans they have changed.

I want to live in Iceland. 
No, Norway.
With my best friend.
Alone, maybe.
School in the UK.
No. School in Norway.
...Where do I go from here?

I have been thinking long and hard. I wonder sometimes if chasing your dreams is really worth it.
But after fighting cancer, I have realised something; You can only see as far as you think, and if you never try you'll never know.

I am going to chase my dreams - Even if that means I'm risking it all.
I might end up miserable, or penniless. But I also might end up happy, and living a life that makes me smile. A life I'm happy to wake up to every day.

I am determined to make this work.
What do you think? Should you risk is all to make yourself happy?

Comment below and let me know. I need something to keep me distracted while I'm on fluids for my methotrexate. Expect updates over the next few days.

Lana.
xx

To Give Up

There are days when I want to give it all up.
Honestly, there are days when I want to refuse my treatment.
There are days when I am so tired of everything that I wonder, is it worth it?

But there's a simple answer: Yes, it is worth it.

Many of my friends know, I've had doubts. I am still having doubts, even as the start of my chemotherapy grows closer and closer - at the end of the day, it's my choice whether or not to accept this preventative treatment. It's my choice to go through with this. My doubts, and my decisions, are not the same.

I wonder sometimes if it's worth it. But I know in my heart - Yes, it is worth it.
Little things make life worth living. And why would you give up something you love? As hard as the road might be, nothing lasts forever unless you choose that - and I will not be letting my cancer journey last any longer than it needs to. I will not give up, just to surpass the hard times - The hard times will make me stronger, and I need that.

My doubts may weaken me, but my decisions will strengthen me.

I am choosing life. I am choosing to keep going, and to push through the tough times so that I am able to look back and, with complete confidence, say, "That is behind me." I can never be sure I will not relapse. I can never be certain that my cancer will not return. But I can live each day as it comes, look back and say, "I made it through the hardest time of my life." Day by day, and step by step.

I am writing this because I am doubting myself. I have considered giving up treatment. I have considered letting my life slip from my own grasp - and that's sad. But I am not giving up.

Life is worth living. Hard times will pass. It's a beautiful adventure.

Life is about taking risks. It's about making peace with yourself, and letting the rest come as it does. I never asked to have cancer -- But I am happy with where I am.

Much love, as always,

Lana

Radiotherapy

Hey everyone. It's been almost a month since I last updated - and my reason behind that is simple: I've been having radiotherapy! Today, I want to talk about my expriences with radiotherapy and how it compares to chemotherapy - Namely, R-CHOP.

I have undergone twelve out of fifteen cycles - I finish on Wednesday and am happy to be finished. However, the experience as a whole wasn't bad at all! The worst part of it is the travelling, as I live about 40 minutes away from the hospital.

Let's talk about what radiotherapy (in my case) entails, first of all. Radiotherapy starts with you being brought up for planning sessions and you are lined up on the bed, X-Rays are taken, etc. You are given three small tattoos so they can find where the laser should be hitting every time you are there. These tattoos, like normal ones, are permanent but they don't hurt much to get them. Just a quick sting and that's it.

From there, you're brought up for radiotherapy and the first three days you get images as well as the treatment. Then, the images only happen once a week! It only takes around fifteen minutes per day.

You are lying on the bed with a special foam cushion under your legs, and lined up to where they need you to be - they usually have to move you millimeters to get it EXACTLY where they need it.
Then you lie on the bed, the radiographers (radiotherapists? radiologists?) leave the room and the radiation is turned on. A large machine moves around you and you just lie there while you recieve this treatment. It takes around five minutes and you're finished! Then, you're free to go.

There is no infection period with radiotherapy, unlike chemotherapy. It's weird knowing that you're not as susceptible and don't have to be quite as careful. At the same time, it's very different and you have to get used to it - You don't have any sickness, although you do become very tired with the radiotherapy and depending on where you're having treatment, you may also have symptoms that your consultant will explain to you. All in al, radiotherapy was much easier for me than chemotherapy and I am sure most people find this, too.

Hope you're all well,
Lana xx

Celebration

"The more difficult it is to reach your destination, the more you'll remember the journey."

I have been so incredibly disorganised lately, and I apologise to you all in advance for the delays in posting. Life just has a way of interfering (not always in a bad way, though). 

On September 23rd I had my last R-CHOP chemotherapy and on September 26th I officially ended that portion of my treatment as I had my last intrathecal. I am now starting radiotherapy and after that, intravenous methotrexate. It's a big day for me and, I don't know about everyone else, but I'm going to celebrate!

So what has the hardest part been about my treatment? What has been the most scary?

I have to say, it's the fear of the unknown - not knowing what you're going into, what everything entails, and what to expect. I've had biopsies, scans, transfusions, intrathecals.. Just to name a few. And it's been scary! But the doctors, nurses, and all the staff at the hospital have made everything so much easier and I could not be more grateful. They provided all the support I needed, helped me through the hard times, the fears, and the worries.

What's next for you, now?

I am currently in the period between my chemotherapy finishing and my radiotherapy starting - so for the moment I am taking things one day at a time and relaxing. Then, in about three weeks time, I will be starting radio. They're giving me fifteen cycles over the course of three weeks. After that, they'll give me another short break before I get my chemotherapy again (which will be given as an inpatient).

Now, I don't normally reply to comments on my posts because there are so many - But this post is the exception. If you have any questions, about me, my diagnosis, my journey, my fears, whatever; write them below and I will get back to you. 

I don't know what you want to hear me talk about - losing your hair, eyebrows, sympathy, stigma - so please come forwards with questions if there's anything on your mind.

Much love, Lana. 

xx

The Emotional Impact

We all react differently to different things - it's what makes us human. It makes us individual, but sometimes everything can become a little too much to bear by yourself - and that's why I am writing this blog about how to cope, and the emotional impact a diagnosis of cancer can have on the individual.

I chose this topic, which I'm sure I've touched on briefly before, because last night the reality of my diagnosis finally hit me. It was late, too late for anyone in my house to be awake (And there was no chance that I'd wake my parents at 5AM) besides me - being a teenager, my sleep patterns get a little bit messed up over Summer break. I still haven't gotten them back to normal!
And last night, I ended up lying in bed and overthinking - about my future, my plans, my dreams and goals and wishes. Everything seemed a bit too much, and I realized that I had never really allowed myself time to feel anything over this diagnosis. I was putting on a brave face, trying hard to show the world my positivity - but sometimes, that can't be the case. We all need a break.
I have great friends; amazing friends, really, who live in different time zones to me. So as soon as they found out I was feeling low, they were right there to help me out and talk things through with me. I don't know what I'd have done without them, besides lie in bed and cry and overthink everything.

The emotional impact of a cancer diagnosis is hard on most people, and I am no exception. I think it just took a few months for it to really sink in and hit me hard that things may never be quite the same as they were. I might not get to do everything I wanted to in life.

Most people feel a variety of feelings after their diagnosis, besides just a feeling of sadness - some people feel angry, some purely sad, some ashamed. Everything you feel is normal and valid, as one of my friends told me last night. There isn't a right or wrong way to feel - but coping, or learning to cope, is an important step to dealing with your diagnosis. We all need healthy outlets, and often times sharing them is a good place to start - It's good to be strong, but when it happens that you're just bottling up your feelings, that's not a good thing. Talking, being open, can be hard. But in all aspects of life, it's important.

It's important to recognize when things are becoming too much - if you feel like you are struggling to cope, there are options available. There are support groups, therapies, even counselors to speak to who will help you work through your feelings and learn to manage them on a day-to-day basis. That's the most important thing, I think - taking things one step at a time, and learning to manage each day.

I am most worried, personally, about my cancer returning. at the moment I am responding well, but I am in a high risk group and need preventative treatment - but there are some things in life that can't be guaranteed. And that really got to me last night - what will happen to me in the future? What if I never get to achieve the things I want to?

It's important to take a step back and realize; the moment, today, is yours. The future is never guaranteed - but that's life. And life, though hard, is a beautiful, beautiful thing.
Just because tomorrow is not promised doesn't mean today should be spent with uncertainty. Make the most of every day - because who knows what tomorrow will bring.

If you are struggling to cope with your cancer diagnosis, don't suffer alone.

http://www.macmillan.org.uk/information-and-support/copingOr you can call Macmillan on 080 808 00 00, monday to friday, 9AM-8PM

Please take care of yourselves. Talk, take care, and stay safe.

Much love - Lana. x

The Good and the Bad

Sorry for the delay in writing - these past few weeks have been hectic. I've had my fifth round of R-CHOP chemotherapy, as well as my fifth intrathecal. This post will be a bit of an update, about some bad news I received and how I'm feeling about it all. I've been so uninspired, but hopefully this passes soon.

Yesterday was my intrathecal - As always, it was never as bad as I thought it would be. It was done before I knew it, and everything was fine.
Before I went into the room to get the procedure done, however, I walked out to get my blood pressure done and my mum was talking to my consultant. I was automatically thinking, "Something is wrong" because of the look on my mum's face!!

So, after the procedure was done and I was resting on my back, my consultant came in to speak to me and tell me what her and my mum had been talking about.

I am going to need more treatment than originally planned.

A new study was recently published on CNS prophyaxis - the procedure I was having done in my back - that put me into a high risk group. For this reason, I need a specific kind of treatment to prevent the cancer from returning and potentially spreading into my CNS, which would be catastrophic and difficult to treat.

The decision was ultimately left up to me, but I said yes. I'm disappointed, very much so - it only really hit me today. Yesterday I was making the best of it because the news hadn't really gotten through to me - But today I have cried about it and complained about it and just... been real with myself. But the reason I am putting myself through this disappointment is because I have a life to live. I am not willing to risk letting the cancer come back in a much more serious way. I know it's my best option to get this treatment, as disappointing as it may be. So I said yes.

The treatment is inpatient, which means that after my sixth chemotherapy and after my radiotherapy, I will be hospitalized three times, for on average five days at a time so they can administer the chemotherapy. It all depends how the first treatment goes, but I'm really, really hoping it will be bearable.

I'm gutted, truth be told. I was so excited for everything to be nearly over, for the end to be in sight... But it's going to be worth it in the long run, so really, I can't complain too much. I shouldn't complain too much, but it's hard. It's hard to take in, and hard to deal with.

I just have to make the best of it and keep my chin up, but I'm also trying to remind myself - it's okay not to be okay all the time.

The good news is, this will prevent the cancer from returning. The bad news is, I have to have more treatment. But it'll be worth it, and I know that.

Love and good vibes to you all,
Lana

PICC lines: the trilogy

(Read on and the title will explain itself...)

So, yesterday I got my PICC line put in. This was the first time I've ever had a PICC line, so naturally I went in there very, very scared. Everyone had said "it's not bad!" but the thought of it all scared the life out of me, and no amount of kind words could change my mind. I was petrified.
So, today, I want to talk about my experience - or rather, experiences- with PICC lines.

For anyone who does not know what a PICC line is, here is a quick definition:

A PICC line is a long, thin, flexible tube known as a catheter. It is inserted into one of the large veins of the arm near the bend of the elbow. It is then threaded into the vein until the tip sits in a large vein just above the heart.

So, now we're all clear on what the device actually is, let's talk about the insertion. It's a sterile procedure, so everything must be sterilized and clean. I was in my cancer outpatient center - Laurel House - in my hospital to have this put in. I was taken into the back of the treatment area and the curtains were pulled. I was laid down on the bed, and it was brought up so the nurse could work with me easily. My arm was then positioned on a pillow and I was asked to rotate my arm. A drape was put over me.

It begins with the nurse looking for veins in your upper arm, well above the crook of your elbow. I had an amazing nurse, who kept me calm. I did cry at one point out of fear, but I can tell you that it really was not that bad at all. The worst pain you feel is the sting of the lidocaine and maybe when the needles goes into the vein - but it's a very bearable pain.

They do this by using an ultrasound machine, or something similar. They apply a cool gel to lubricate the area and then use this machine to look for veins. When a few veins are located - They found three in my arm - they get prepared for the procedure to start. Lidocaine is injected into your arm to numb the area, and they ask you if you feel anything sharp while they make the incision.

From this point onwards, I don't really know the ins-and-outs of the procedure. You can't actually see it happening because of the drape. I believe that what happens is a needle is put into your arm and the tube is guided through by that needle, and it's threaded along the vein into place. That's my understanding of it, but I don't know all the details so I won't even attempt to guess - it's better simply to let you nurse do what they need to do, and not get too anxious.

Was it painful? No, not at all. A bit of discomfort is the worst you'll feel. And I can tell you this was not just a fluke - I had to have the procedure done three - yes, three! - times. It was not painful (besides a mild, mild pain with the lidocaine and such) any of those times. We went for my left arm as it was my preference, and the PICC line failed twice. We decided to leave it until another day and then try it in my right arm, but by some twist of fate we ended up getting another slot and the PICC line was inserted into my right arm - successfully!

So, yes; that's the trilogy. I have had three PICC line insertions for one PICC line.

To anyone worrying about getting a PICC line, I hope this reassures you- it isn't bad, not at all. It's normal to be nervous, but consciously try to relax - it makes the whole process easier. I think my first two attempts failed because, aside from my crappy veins, I was so nervous. By the third time, I knew what to expect - so it was much easier.

Another thing to talk about is the adjustment to having a PICC line. It's weird having one in, and you worry about bumping it or tugging it - I know I did. I spoke with my nurse, and she put my mind at ease. I can sleep on the side that has the PICC line, and sleep on my other side, too. You just have to be careful with bathing and showering and there are some restrictions on what you can do with that arm. It's just something you must learn to live with - but really, it isn't that hard to get used to. Be careful, but don't let your life revolve around your PICC line. Don't worry about falling asleep incase you pull it out - you won't. As the nurses told me, they have never ever seen anyone's PICC line come out from sleeping. It really only moves if you're doing something stupid, like going to a rave with a PICC line in your arm.

So, take heart - it's not a bad procedure! It's nerve wracking, yes, but that's normal. Talk to your nurse, maybe bring a family member - everyone is there to care for you. It's just a bit uncomfortable, and that's all. Good luck to anyone having a line inserted - You'll do great!

PS. I am a total baby when it comes to medical procedures - I get so scared beforehand. So trust me when I say, it's not that bad and if I can do it, anyone can.

Halfway PET Scan: The Results

It's been a while since I've updated this blog, and nearly all of you will have heard the news. But to anyone who hasn't, this blog post is for you! The results of my halfway PET scan. Sorry for the delay, but things have been so hectic recently that I haven't had much of a chance to write.

I received a call on the 3rd of July from my consultant, who gave me the news. Some of the details are kind of fuzzy, because I was so excited that I couldn't take everything in! That's right, the news was good. Great, actually.

All my tumours have melted away and shrunk. They're not gone, and I'm not out of the woods yet, but they're nearly there. Isn't that exciting? Even my largest tumour, which was 12cm in diameter, has melted away. My improvement is "profound" and "remarkable", according to my PET results.
I will be continuing with chemotherapy (R-CHOP and IT) to kill off any cells, as well as radiotherapy, too. I am so thrilled with the news, I can't believe it.

On Tuesday the 9th, I get my first PICC line put in. Then, on Friday the 12th, I get my fourth dose of chemotherapy! I'm nearly there, and that makes me so happy.

I am keeping this entry short because the news is so overwhelming for me - but I promise, it won't be long before my next entry. A few days, at most.

I hope everyone is keeping well! Stay safe.

"The Chemo Summer"

Yes, it's summer. No, it hasn't stopped raining. Typical Northern Irish weather...
But summer is a time for most of us to relax - it's the time we look forward to after a year of school, or work, or whatever we have been doing with the rest of our year. It's our personal time. I know that for me, as a student, summer is my time off - I love it. But chemo gets in the way a little bit - so I want to talk about how chemotherapy affects my summer, going out with friends - the little things I usually take for granted during my summer holidays.

First and foremost, for me, is the fact that I can't travel by plane. This was such a shame for me because I am a huge wanderluster and I adore travelling with all my heart. I was lucky enough to have three trips booked this year: Zakynthos with my family, Andalucía with my school, and Iceland with my dad. But unfortunately, they've all had to be cancelled - postponed, rather - and I am going to be spending my summer and the rest of the year in Northern Ireland. But, it is better to stay at home than to risk getting sick or running into trouble, right?

So, for the first year in a while, I'm not going anywhere. It's a bit upsetting, since travelling is such a passion of mine, but I know it's for the best. That's the biggest thing I've noticed about summer. With chemotherapy, it's so hard to get out of the house, you know? You can't just go out for a coffee with your pals - you have to figure out if your infection days fall on the right time, if they have any colds or an infection in their home, if you can be that far from home without getting too exhausted, etc... It's hard work and takes alot of figuring out. Personally, I find it difficult to make plans with people, so more often than not I spend my day entertaining myself inside the house, or going out with my family - at least then, things are more simple. If I take ill, they're readily available to help out, and so on.

But chemotherapy also gets in the way simply by happening. You have to budget your days. What many people don't realize is that even when you're not actively receiving treatment, you're still not readily available to leave the house and do stuff. Seven to fourteen days after your chemotherapy dose is what I call your "danger days" or "infection days". These are when your white blood cells are at their lowest and you are more prone to infection. Hugging people, being in close contact, and even just leaving the house can be dangerous. So even when you're not actively getting chemo, you're stuck with it's effects for a week between cycles. During my infection days, I usually become a hermit, solely because out of my past two cycles I have developed three - yep, three! - infections. And they are not fun at all. But thankfully, I haven't gotten sick so far with this cycle - and I am determined this will be the cycle I stay healthy! So I am staying well away from anything dirty and keeping my contact with others to a minimum. It's a small price to pay, I suppose.

You also have to bank on exhaustion. I know that I get exhausted immensely easily - I can't walk very far without getting wiped out and needing a ride back home (sorry, mum). This makes it much harder than normal to go out with friends, because you have to budget your energy. I personally end up sleeping after going out with friends or family,most of the time, to keep myself from getting too tired. My friends are very understanding about it, though, so they always let me take a break from walking and sit with me for a while until I'm ready to go again.

Another big issue is, with infections, you can't just think to yourself, "Oh, I feel fine at 9AM so I will go out and do this..." because infections come on very, very fast. You could be feeling well at 9AM and by 11AM be up at the hospital with a fever. It's frightening how quickly it can happen - so you can't really be too liberal. You have to be so careful, right down to even what you eat! I know that one of the worst things for me is that you can't always eat what you're craving. I have had one or two cravings right from the start of my chemotherapy which I can't really satisfy, because they could give me food poisoning and we don't want to risk that. Chemo gives me very intense cravings (and very intense hunger - it must be the steroids), so this is hard for me!

Since my diagnosis - 56 days or thereabouts - I have been out with my friends, maybe... I would guess about three times. If even. But I go out more frequently with my family, because it's safer - and I don't mind that one bit! It's a pretty boring way to spend your summer, being stuck in the house (or like me, in the hospital), but it's a safer bet. You can't be too careful, but it makes you appreciate it more when you can go out and enjoy yourself. You might wind up sleeping until 3 the next day, but it's worth it for a night of fun, isn't it?

Always remember to keep a good eye on your temperature and if you have any symptoms, call your helpline - Summer is fun, "chemo summers" are a little bit less fun, but your health is more important than anything. Stay safe!

What Happens on Chemo Day?

Chemotherapy isn't exactly fun - no, it's quite boring! But it's, unfortunately, a necessary part of some people's lives and it can be pretty scary. So, this journal goes out to anyone who has just been told they'll be needing chemotherapy, or for anyone simply interested in the process - hopefully this will put your mind at ease and show you what it's like to get a simple round of R-CHOP chemotherapy.

First of all, you get your blood taken to make sure you are fit to undergo chemotherapy - this can be done the day before in the doctor's office, or on the same day as your chemotherapy in the chemo ward. Naturally, if they do it the day before, your chemo gets started quicker because they don't have to wait for the results on the day. However, I get my chemotherapy on a Friday - Thursday is the chemo day in Laurel House, so I avoid most of the people and I get seen to a bit quicker. This is just my experience.

You're taken into the room and placed in a comfortable chair, or it's done in your hospital room, someone comes to put your cannula in - which is basically where an IV goes. It's a plastic needle in your arm, and you get your chemotherapy through there. Generally they don't like to put it in the bend of your arm, but they will if they have to. This part is common practice for anyone undergoing chemotherapy so you all probably know, it's not very painful at all. Or, you might have a PICC line in - I'll be getting my first PICC line next month - which means you can skip the cannula and such, as all your blood tests can be taken from the PICC and all your chemotherapy can be given through the PICC. This is a dream come true if you don't like needles - and if, like me, your veins are horrible, too! If you want to know more about what a PICC line is, Macmillan Cancer Support has some great resources on their website.

Now, there are different types of chemotherapy - I am talking in this post about R-CHOP. R-CHOP is made up of five drugs: Cyclophosphamide (C), Doxorubicin hydrochloride (H), Vincristine (O), and Prednisolone (P), as well as a monoclonal antibody named Rituximab (R). 
(Bear in mind, please, that as I am only a patient, I don't have an extensive knowledge on the drugs used, their side effects, and so on. So please, any concerns, questions etc. should be directed to your oncology team and not me. I cannot/will not give any medical advice. Your doctors are here to help!)

First of all, you will either start with the CHOP part, or the R part. But before this you are given a few extra drugs such as anti-emetics and antihistamines and paracetamol. These are given through your cannula or orally so it's really no big deal, nothing to worry about. For your first treatment, it will most likely take the longest. This is because some people develop a reaction to the Rituximab - this is usually not severe. Your nurses will be keeping a close eye on you, so if you feel any adverse reactions you must tell them - they will get you sorted, even if that means slowing down the infusion a little bit.
I can't stress enough that it is important to voice your feelings, even if it seems insignificant. As I keep saying, your nurses and doctors and there to help you and only you know how you are feeling. Keep them informed at all times! You might feel like you're calling on them too often, but you are not. They are there to help and keep us safe, and it is always better to let someone know if you're feeling unwell.

You should be keeping your arm as straight and as still as possible during chemotherapy, but talk to your nurse about this. Some drugs can cause damage if they leak into your tissues - but this is very rare and, because your nurses will be keeping such a close eye on you, they will get your sorted out immediately if they feel there is an issue. This is a key reason why it is very important to mention how you're feeling - is your arm hurting where the cannula has been put in? Mention it. Anything abnormal in the slightest is worth mentioning.

You are then given the rest of the drugs through your cannula or PICC line - doxorubicin, I believe, is bright red. Something I wasn't told was that this turns your urine red for a short time after entering the body and that scared the life out me! I thought there was blood in my urine - so if nobody mentions to you, keep a note in the back of your mind: it's just the drug and it is a good sign that the medication is going round your body well.

Cyclophosphamide is my least favourite drug. I don't have reactions to any drug besides this one, and even then my reaction is a very common and very, very mild one: My nose feels hot. Weird, right? It feels like my sinuses and the back of my nose are hot/tingly. But as well as that, I get a bit... well, what word is there for woozy? It's not quite lightheadedness, but a kind of dizzy, cloudy-headedness. It's not terrible and goes away within five minutes - but when you have no reactions to anything else, naturally even a minor reaction means it's your least favourite. Nothing to worry about. It also gave me a burning sensation when I urinated and made my urination quite frequent but difficult - I was so scared, because I had never had this issue until my third cycle, but it passed within 24 hours, was not overly painful (just a normal burn-when-you-pee thing) and, after doing a bit of research, I knew it was the cyclophosphamide and not an infection of any sort. If you're concerned, though, talk to your medical team. They are much, much more reliable than any google search!

You are also given an infusion of saline (I think it's saline, anyway) to flush the chemicals through your body and finish up. The prednisolone, however, is taken for five days after your chemotherapy as an oral medication. The tablets are generally very small and are coated to prevent you tasting anything. They are extremely easy to take, and some advice I received from my nurses was this: If you're struggling to get them down (as there are alot of them - sixteen per day is my dose) put them on a spoonful of yoghurt. I only eat one or two types of yoghurt, but I love the stuff I do eat, so this was perfect for me. A spoonful of petit-filous completely masks the taste and it slips down easy.

R-CHOP is given in cycles that are usually about three weeks apart. I have six cycles, then we will re-assess what treatment needs to go further and so on. If anyone doesn't know, I thought I would share the news, however: As of Tuesday the 19th of July, 2016, I am officially HALFWAY through my entire course of chemotherapy! This is the reason I wrote this post, in particular - now I have some good experience, I feel confident enough to offer some advice on what to expect. Of course, chemotherapy is different for everyone, but it is much scarier sounding than it really is. You don't need to worry too much. I have always been petrified of the unknown; Still am! I'm a scaredy cat. So believe me, if I can tackle three cycles and not worry about the next three, you can do it. It's not scary at all, but if you're a bit nervous, bring a family member with you.

If your chemotherapy was done in a day unit, then you are pretty much free to go when you are feeling well - your tablets should be discussed with your chemotherapy nurse because generally there is alot to keep on top of. They are so helpful and talking about it really gets it straight in your head. And that, my friends, is the end of your chemotherapy - I really hope I'm not missing anything obvious! I tend to sleep during my chemotherapy or play on my phone or something to keep me entertained. I usually have a stash of sweets nearby and my family with me, so we all sit and chat or whatever we feel like. 

Two of my chemotherapies have been given as an inpatient and one as an outpatient. This was because my first was given when I was originally diagnosed - my second, outpatient - and my third was given as I recovered from an infection and had not yet been released. I have experience with both and neither is worse than the other.

Something that scared me at the start was seeing the nurse all geared-up for chemothreapy - aprons, gloves, the works. This isn't something to be scared of and you don't need to worry about your own safety with this. It is simply due to the fact that chemotherapy can be harmful if it makes contact with the skin, so your nurses take precautions to avoid it - but they know exactly what they are doing and how to administer it so there is nothing to worry about.

I will leave this entry here, as it's already so long - but hopefully you, or someone you know, will find it helpful. Chemotherapy is a big step, but it's a worthwhile step. If it gets you better, it's worth the boring afternoon of getting it. My next entry will talk about another type of chemotherapy I receive, called intrathecal chemotherapy. This is where the chemotherapy is injected into your central nervous system and spinal fluid to prevent the cancer from spreading or growing any further - but for me, it's simply precautionary as I am 100% cancer-free in my nervous system. WOOHOO! Some good news!

Thankyou for reading, and best of luck with your chemotherapy! You'll do great.

Come to Me

I'm back in hospital - again. Another infection. I was admitted today with a fever of 38.4C, and while my white blood cells are at a good level, I need to be kept in for a day or two. I feel absolutely fine, and am currently just sitting around, in a bit of a bad mood. Oh well.
I haven't updated this blog in six days, and really, I don't have an excuse besides I just haven't felt up to it. I haven't been in the mood to write, and I won't put myself under pressure with this blog.

My current bad mood is the inspiration for this entry - I don't know why I'm in a bad mood. Maybe because of my admission, but I think it's just one-of-those-days. But it got me thinking about how it's hard to always stay positive - and it's okay to open up and say to someone, "I'm feeling a bit down, today."

A question I'm constantly asked is "how do you remain so positive?" and honestly, I have just as many bad days as anyone else. I have my ups and my downs - but how I stay positive on the bad days, is by talking to someone about it. Self care is important, and I try to do that, too. But what keeps me upbeat and what keeps me looking forwards is the support I gain from others. And, at the end of the day, that's a good thing. It's good that I can open up to others - and I want everyone to know, it's okay for you to open up, too.

Positivity doesn't just happen, but sometimes it's easier than others. Sometimes it's forced, sometimes it shines out of you without you even realizing. But it takes work, effort even - and sometimes, upholding that is too hard. And that's okay.

It's okay to not be able to be positive all the time. It's okay not to be able to smile and say, "It could be worse!". It's okay to depend on someone, and this entry is mainly about the following point.

If you are having a bad day, and you think there is nobody there for you to talk to, come to me. Come to me on Facebook or wherever you have me as a contact. If you need to vent, I'm here. Nobody can be positive all the time - and nobody needs to be, either. Your problems will not burden me, and I can be there for you to vent to if you need it. Because we all have bad days - but we don't all have someone there to really support us when we need it.

This is a short entry, yes; I'm sorry, but my right arm is hooked up to an IV and I can't bend it, so typing is quite difficult. I just wanted to get something meaningful up here -and this is probably the most important thing I will post.

I am here for you, whenever you may need it.

How Cancer Changed my Perspective

"If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change."

I am a big believer in positive vibes, good thoughts, and how all of that can change your life. But it's easier said than done to change your perspective - After all, habits are hard to break.  But it's worth working at, even if it's just to look at something and train your mind to pick a positive out of it; something small, but worthwhile. It really does make so much of a difference.

Today, I want to talk about how cancer changed my perspective of life.

It's scary to say it, but cancer made me want to live again. Crazy, right? It made me realize how much I actually cherished my life, as much as I said to the contrary. I wasn't in a good place, mentally - I didn't want the life I had been given. Or, rather, I thought I didn't. But when you're actually faced with something that makes you think about your own mortality - Not that my cancer is in any way lethal, it just made me think about it! - you start to realize just how lucky you are to actually have the life you've been given. I can proudly say, I don't have intrusive suicidal thoughts anymore. I'm happy to be alive.

Did cancer cause that? No, I don't believe it did. I believe that cancer simply made me take a look around and think, "wow, I have more than I thought I did." and that's what got me through.

I took things for granted. I mean, I'm seventeen - I'm always going to take things for granted. I try not to, but it happens. I try every day to appreciate the little things ust as much as the big things, now. My own bed, wi-fi, hand sanitizers, cups of tea - little things that we often take for granted, and things I know that I took for granted. I'm trying hard to appreciate the little things as well as the big things, because those little things are what matter. You'll look back and realize, those little things were really the big things, too.

I also think in a different way than I did before. I was always a realist, or so I told myself - realistic with a side of pessimism, really. But when you're diagnosed with cancer, that kind of mindset will get you nowhere. You can't be a pessimist. You can't look at things and see the worst, because all that will do is let negativity well inside you and that is not what you need. You have to be realistic, yeah - but I think optimism helps you more than anything. It's hard, though, I know that. Being optimistic even in the face of something so horrible is hard. But if you can do that, or at least remain realistic - well, you're halfway there.

I think cancer made me look at everything a bit differently. It made me see things in a new light - instead of picking out the negatives in things, I started picking out the positives. It was what I had to do when I first got my diagnosis. And when faced with bad news, I don't crumble into a ball of tears the way I used to- I have thicker skin. And that's important!

Cancer made me reevaluate what's important in life, too. I now realize that my priorities were a bit screwed up- I was so obsessed with being "different" to others, that I was hurting myself in the process. I wanted to stand out and be, well, different. I pushed aside everything - My family, my hobbies, in order to be someone I wasn't because I just didn't like myself. But there is only one me in the world. If I try to be someone I'm not, I'll just become nothing- an original is worth more than a copy. I like myself alot more, now. I'm a better person.

It feels weird saying that "cancer made me a better person" - but it did start the process. Cancer changed everything for me, and changed everything in me, for the better. Am I happy I have cancer? Not at all. Don't get me wrong - I wish, more than anything, I did't have to go through all this. But wishing isn't going to get me anywhere, so I'm doing the best with what I've been given.

I know what matters now, and what doesn't.
Cancer may have helped me see things more clearly, but now it's time to kick it's ass!

A Week at Most

That's what I'm telling myself, anyway. I'll only be in hospital for a week, at most. It's reassuring when you think of it like that - I have to accept that, unfortunately, the hospital is just going to be a home-away-from-home for a while. But counting down the days helps make them go in quicker, I find, as long as you don't dwell on it too much. There's a fine line between counting down the days and just making yourself miserable.

We all have to do things we don't like doing, and for me, coming into hospital is one of them. The staff, nurses and doctors are all lovely, don't get me wrong - but still, you just can't be yourself when you're not at home. It's my third stay in the hospital - Altogether, I've spent nearly thirty days in the hospital since May. It's crazy how time flies!

I'm back in with a possible infection at the moment - my infection markers have risen since yesterday, so I'm getting antibiotics to ward off any infections and treat anything that might be in me, already. My neutrophils are low - not as low as they were the first time around, though - so I am susceptible to infection. That means extra special care with hand washing and sanitizing, no visitors, and so on. It's boring, nobody can deny it - but if it'll keep me healthy, I'll happily do what I need to.

I came in yesterday with severe pain in my back - While I was waiting for the ambulance to come and get me from my house, I ended up dizzy and started being sick. I was kept lying down, because anytime I stood up I would get dizzy again and throw up. This happened a few times, and my temperature spiked, so they gave me anti-emetics and paracetamol and that really did the trick. I can now stand, walk, and do pretty much whatever I need to by myself again - No dizzy spells or sickness involved!

The most important thing I have learned, though, is that when you're worried about something, get it checked out. That cough that wouldn't go away? We got it checked and caught the cancer early. The back pain? We got it checked and prevented a possibly-severe infection. It's the most important advice I have for anyone - You know your body best. If something worries you, then get it sorted out!

I'll be home again soon - I am bored out of my mind, so I will be writing while I'm here. It's weird to think, but if all this hadn't happened - if I hadn't been diagnosed with cancer - I would be jetting off on my first holiday of the year in only a matter of days. Cancer really has taken things over, but I'm determined not to let it ruin my year - after all, every day is a new opportunity to make the most of.

Good Vibes Only

It's raining - pouring, actually. The world beyond my window looks dreary and bleak right now, but that's alright, because while the rain lashes against my window I'm sitting under a blanket with my fairy lights illuminating my room, and everything just feels right.
Today, I want to talk about a quote I love. Three words: Good vibes only.
It's a very simple quote, and an even simpler concept - In life, you only have room for positivity.

Positivity is what makes the world spin. It's what makes us happy and what puts us in good positions. If we surround ourselves with negative people, thoughts, and energies, then we are bound to feel negative feelings. There's no two ways about it; Good vibes are infectious.
Unfortunately, so are the bad vibes. They're unavoidable, but there are some steps we can take to reduce the amount of negativity in our lives and increase the positivity: it's hard work, but worth it.

Sometimes, you just have to say, "enough is enough" and walk away. Sometimes, you have to be ruthless. Sometimes, you have to think, "they're not worth my energy". And that can be very, very hard to do! The other day, I was walking out of a shop and I passed by a small group of young teenagers - I can guess they were about thirteen - and they called me a skinhead because of my shaved/balding hair. But it didn't bother me. If this had happened a year ago, I probably would have cried - All my insecurities and worries would have bubbled up and overwhelmed me.
I got into the car, and thought, "They aren't worth my time". And while I do lie in bed and think about how my balding head must look to other people, I know that those little kids aren't worth my energy.
I won't let their negative vibes into my life - I have no room for hateful people. I have no room for people who bring me down. I have no room for people who make me uncomfortable. I have no room for negativity.

Let me make one thing clear; I love the people I have in my life. I love my friends and my family. I am not looking for an excuse to cut anyone out of my life or say, "You're bringing me down". But when you find yourself in a place that you don't like, it's okay to take a step back and say, "I need some space".

Before my diagnosis of cancer, I was not in a good place, mentally. You might be surprised to hear that, because for most people a cancer diagnosis would simply worsen things - but I find myself much better, nowadays. Maybe because I am too distracted, but either way, I like to think I have helped myself. I like to think that the vibes I am allowing into my life are affecting me positively.
I was in a rut. I felt like I had nothing to turn to and nowhere to go. I was crushed with loneliness and yet I had everyone around me. It's like being in a box - a glass, soundproof box, and you're running out of oxygen. You can fight and kick and scream, but nobody notices that you're running out of time.
The realization didn't come until after my diagnosis of cancer, that there was a correlation of good people and good things in my life. My thoughts became better, my mood became better - And it all started with a bit of mentality change and the realization that I am worth the effort.

That's right: I'm worth the effort. And so are you - Everyone is worth the effort.
We're often taught to think of others before ourselves, and yeah, this is not a bad thing. It's good to be selfless, but it's not wrong to be selfish when it comes to your own happiness. You should not sacrifice your happiness for other people, places, things or situations. If it makes you unhappy, try to avoid it as much as you can - you have to make your own happiness, but it's worth doing.

"A beautiful heart creates a beautiful person"
Just a little art piece of mine.

I will keep this entry short, because I know I will be talking more about positivity in the near future. That and, this entry may have been a bit disjointed and all-over-the-place, but I'm just having one of those days.
The main point I want to get across in this entry is that it is okay to devote time to making yourself happy. It is okay to take steps to improve your life. You are worth it.

We're all worth it. Keep smiling.

Lady Luck is on My Side

Lady Luck is on My Side....

(...and not just because of Iceland beating England in the football!)

I want to talk, today, about something that keeps creeping into my mind - and it seems a very normal thing for me, yet when I say it out loud I get laughter and mixed responses. 

I am a very, very lucky girl.

That's right. I'm a very lucky girl - and I am! I may be sitting here with little to no hair left, a tumour in my chest and around my body, and just after my second dose of chemotherapy - but I could be sitting here with no support, no family, and nobody here to tell me, "It's going to be okay". I could be so much worse off, and that's the mindset I have to have. It's a mindset that helps me through.

Mainly, the thing that makes me so lucky - the thing I am so lucky to have, rather - is the support that I've been given. So let's start there.

I have always known that I have an amazing family. Sure, we have our moments, but overall there is no family I would rather be a part of. They are my rock and my everything - To those who don't know, before all this started, it wasn't plain sailing for me. I had alot of emotional problems and trouble with my thoughts, and it really put a weight on my family, I think, as well as me. But through seventeen years, they're still standing by me - they really are my everything.

Through this diagnosis, I realized that I took my family for granted sometimes - and it really is such an easy thing to do. They're constant, so you think, "they'll always be there, anyway", and move on without taking the time to really stop and appreciate them. That's something I want to stop doing - I want to learn to appreciate the little things and the big things, alike. Family are forever, and I'll be damned if I go a day without telling them how much I love them.

I've also always known, that I am part of an amazing community. My town is full of wonderful people; there is always something going on for a good cause, and it's a really beautiful thing to see. But through this hard time for my family and myself, I have met so many outstanding people in my community. I have fundraisers set up for me and friends who wish to help out and raise money for cancer charities- And honestly, I am so proud to be a part of it all. Everyone in my town has been simply amazing - as well as people from all over the world! I've had my blog shared near and far, and I owe a massive thanks to everyone - but I wouldn't have gotten anywhere if not for those of you in Carrickfergus, Northern Ireland. 

I am also so, so lucky for the doctors and nurses who have helped me through all this - Every radiographer, PET scanner, specialist and more. You are the reason I'm sitting here typing this with my cat beside me, instead of being stuck in a hospital bed. But even when I was in hospital, I never felt unlucky or lonely - there was always someone to chat to, something to do or something to watch. I had everything I needed, and while nobody enjoys being in hospital, my experience wasn't a bad one. It wasn't pleasant, but the nurses and doctors really made the difference for me and I owe everyone in Antrim Area hospital a huge, huge thankyou. 

And lastly, I owe a huge thankyou to friends and acquaintances who have taken the time to send me a message. You guys are the people who keep me going. The messages I get and the love and support - it goes a long, long way. You brighten my days. The little acts of kindness that you might not think much of really have the power to change my day - and they do. Every message you guys have sent to me have really touched my heart - and I have a scrapbook made of every card, well wish, and so forth in my bedroom. I don't know where I would be without my friends and everyone who supports me. 

Certainly, I wouldn't be here if not for all of you - so thankyou. Thankyou for reading this; You, yourself, are owed a thanks. Thankyou for the support, and the kindness, and thankyou for being here with me through this. 

I am a very lucky girl - cancer, or not.

The Inevitable: Shaving my Hair

I knew this was coming since I was told I had cancer - Hair loss is something you associate with cancer and chemotherapy, isn't it? It's a giveaway that someone is ill. And yet, when I got into the shower and found big clumps of my electric blue hair coming out in my hands, it was a shock. A big shock.

Day by day, more and more strands of hair were coming out. Not quite clumps, just lots of individual strands - but they were everywhere. All over my pillow, all over my bed. When I showered, that's when big clumps came out. It wasn't exactly upsetting; I had been expecting it. But it was a shock.
I could tug on my hair and it would just fall out in strands. I would wake in the morning to find hair everywhere, and at night I would look in the mirror and think, "I wonder how much worse it'll be tomorrow?" Brushing my hair after showering made me realize how bad it had gotten. I looked at the brush, and there was simply a mat of blue hair stuck between the bristles. And that's when I realized, my hair just had to go.

Losing your hair can be upsetting. For me, personally, it wasn't too bad; despite my wacky hair colours suggesting otherwise, I'm not overly attached to my hair. So when it started to come out, I wasn't too bothered by it. The part that bothered me most of all, though, was the mess it left!

When in hospital for the first time, I dyed my hair pink, and then blue followed. I think it was a shock for the nurses to see me come out of the bathroom with pink hair, the first time. I was on an open ward with mostly older folk, so I think it was a shock to them, too! My second dye job, which was the electric blue I kept up until recently, was done after I moved to my third ward, C7. I had an ensuite there, so I felt more comfortable doing it. I did it with one hand, as in my left hand was a big cannula - I didn't want to dye it blue, or get hair dye in it. But I managed, and I was very pleased with the results.

So, when the time came that I decided my hair needed to go, I talked to my parents and my nurses about it. When they told me I was free to cut it if I wanted, we asked a close family friend of ours to come over and do the job. She was amazing, and kept me comfortable through what could have been a really emotional time.

First of all, I got my hair cut short - so not quite as short as shaving. But in the end, I decided I wanted it shorter than that, and we decided to shave it. I have a few bald patches (but nothing massively noticeable) and my hair is very thin, even with it shaved so short. But that's okay.
For a seventeen year old girl, hair is important - There's no doubt about that. But for me, I knew it was just part of my treatment to lose it, so I had time to adjust to the idea of being bald - or near enough bald.

But it isn't all about my hair loss - When in hospital I was visited by a woman who sorted out wigs for cancer patients. We went through a variety of wigs and found what was best for me - and I have to say, I love it. I'm excited for it's debut! That isn't to say I will always wear a wig, though. I feel surprisingly comfortable with my shaved hair and even in public, while I will probably get some odd looks, I feel like I could wear my "baldy-bap", as my family lovingly calls it, with pride!

So you're probably wondering what kind of wig I chose. Well, I looked at long ones, short ones, black, brown, blonde - And ultimately settled for the one that suited me best. Not to mention, I have a variety of wigs at home - slightly more "out-there" ones - but it's nice to have a bit of variety and, on the days I am feeling more confident, I can wear a blue or a silver wig if that's what I feel like!

Looks pretty natural, don't you think?

Overall, losing my hair has been a relatively easy experience - it's different for everyone, and I think the best part, for me, is that I could take control over it myself. Cancer is the kind of disease that takes over your life (temporarily, of course) with chemotherapy and treatment, so having control over the little things gives me alot of comfort. For some people, losing your hair can be very traumatic - and if you're struggling with hair loss and the emotional baggage that comes with it, I would speak to your nurses and doctors about what support is available to you. They're there to help!

The most important thing to remember through chemotherapy and losing your hair is, while it might sound a bit cliché, you're not defined by your looks. You are a beautiful person from the inside out.

But of course, you can still look great with a baldy-bap like me!

My First Infection

Every day may not be good, but there is something good in every day.

Not every day can be good. You need a little rain to see the rainbow, after all! But it's important to remember that the bad days don't last long - and you can't appreciate the good days without the bad.

For the past few days, I've been in hospital with an infection. Nothing serious, in fact anybody who hadn't just had chemotherapy would fight it off naturally - but my white blood cell counts were so lowered that I couldn't fight it, and so, I needed antibiotics. Chemotherapy can be a pain in the ass. In this blog, I want to document my first experiences with things, to give others an idea of what they can possibly expect while undergoing treatment - so it only seems right to talk about my first infection.

A week after my first dose of chemotherapy, I was going to have my CNS prophylaxis - an injection of chemotherapy into my spinal fluid to prevent any cancer cells from spreading into my nervous system, as I understand it. I was released from the hospital on Thursday, four days after my first chemo, and my CNS prophylaxis was on Monday.

The CNS prophylaxis went smoothly. I was petrified for it, and went in there to discover it really wasn't that bad. Much like a lumbar puncture, you bring up your knees and lie on your side, and all I felt was a little pinch with the local anaesthetic - surprisingly, I didn't even feel the "sting" you commonly get with local anaesthetic! It was just like a pin prick in your back. And then, before I knew it, everything was underway. An amazing nurse held my hand through it and chatted away to me, and I happily chatted back - At one point I asked, "Is it happening right now?", that's how little I could feel. The only pain I had was a mild, very bearable ache that was sort of in my pelvis area as they worked - towards the end. I am not sure if that was the injection, of the collection of spinal fluid or what, but it was an extremely mild pain and if all my future CNS prophylaxis sessions have that little bit of pain? That will be okay with me. I was expecting it to be alot worse.

So, I got my CNS prophylaxis done with no complications. I was very pleased with how it went, and it put my mind at ease for future sessions. I did, however, go home and sleep - they told me to lie down, so sleep seemed like the best option. Everything was good.

It was Tuesday when I started feeling sick. I was pretty nauseous, which I assumed was normal - After all, my chemotherapy hadn't given me many side effects, so I figured the CNS chemotherapy wouldn't be so kind. I spent the day chilling out, but at around 4PM, I got very, very cold - so I got out of bed to go put warmer clothes on. I don't remember how it happened, but I wound up on the floor, doubled over and sick. It wasn't a very fun time. I tried to eat, because after that little incident I was hungry - but I couldn't manage much without feeling sick again.

Wednesday, I woke up feeling as sick as ever, and as expected, the nausea turned into sickness. We called the doctor to come out and give me an anti-sickness injection, which she did - but right after she gave me the injection, I fainted and was sick again. It kicked in over the course of a few hours and for the rest of the day, I felt much less nauseous - but still somewhat sick.

Through all of this, the worst part was the fatigue. I was so tired, and ended up napping only an hour after waking up from my last nap. It was really bad. But I figured, "Hey, it's just the chemotherapy".

Only on Thursday did my temperature spike. Not overly high, but a low grade fever is still a fever - so we called the hospital and they asked us to come up, as they were concerned about me being sick as well as having a temperature. I was so exhausted, I couldn't change out of my pajamas, and I sat in the kitchen crying because I didn't want to go to the hospital - I was overwhelmed with feeling sick and tired, and I didn't want the added stress.

But we had to go, and I realized that - so after driving to hospital, we went to the ward we were directed to, and they found me a bed. I was dehydrated, so my veins were all collapsing and nobody could get much blood from me or get a cannula in - It took alot of work and failed attempts. Eventually, we got a cannula in and got blood drawn and so on. I cried quite a bit, not from the pain but just exhaustion and the overwhelming situation, but all my doctors and nurses were amazing. They got me sorted out and comforted me and before I knew it, I was sleeping again.

I spent the day there, and was told that I was going to be kept in because I did have an infection. So, I was admitted, and given antibiotics. Prcatically as soon as they started, I began to feel better. I was also put on a fluid IV to keep me hydrated, because I am very bad with drinking adequate amounts - I hate the taste of water.

Not the happiest to be back in hospital, but here we are.

I've been on antibiotics since Thursday; it's now Tuesday. I feel miles better than I did, and I am also no longer on fluid IVs. They took twelve hours, so I asked if I could just work really hard at drinking more fluids instead, and they said if I drank enough fluids I could stay off the drips - so that's what I'm doing.

I know coming into hospital is an annoyance, and the worry of "Will I be admitted?" often makes you not want to come - but it's much, much better to get the treatment you need. It's a bit of a pain, but it's better than sitting at home, getting worse and worse and feeling all around miserable. When I came in, I was feeling so awful that my lips were quite literally grey - And within a day I was a much better colour. Five days on, and you could barely tell I had an infection. I still can't leave my hospital room - my neutrophils are very low, leaving me susceptible to infection. But my infection markers are coming down well, I have no more temperature spikes, and everything is recovering well. It'll just take time.

Bravery

“Courage is found in unlikely places.” 

― J.R.R. Tolkien

As I write this entry, I am sitting in a hospital bed - I have some kind of infection, and as my white blood cells are so low due to the chemotherapy, I need antibiotics to get me better. I was admitted yesterday, and will likely be here until Tuesday or Wednesday of next week. The good news is, however, that I feel much better since yesterday, when I was so exhausted and overwhelmed that I came onto the ward with grey lips and tearful eyes.

Yesterday made me think alot about this topic in particular: bravery.

I do not consider myself a very brave person - it's a quality I greatly admire in others, which I would love to have, myself. But recently, I have been told over and over how brave I am - and it's finally sinking in that bravery is relative to the person. 

So maybe, I am brave.

It has been sixteen days since I received my diagnosis, and I am shocked by how much I have grown as a person within this time. I have a new perspective on things and on life, as silly as it may sound for a seventeen year old. I will talk about that in another entry at a later stage.

When I was first told I had cancer, my reaction wasn't really what anyone expected - or even what I expected. I said, "it is what it is, and we just have to deal with it". That isn't to say I haven't cried over my diagnosis, or that it hasn't brought my moods up and down. I've had my good days and bad days - but that is to be expected, and you simply have to ride the wave to get to the shore. 

But then, the fear of the unknown set in - biopsies, IVs, medications, procedures... Would it hurt? How long would it take? Would I be at any risk? One after another, these thoughts filled my head - I was overwhelmed with fear. Worry raised it's ugly little head, and for the first few nights I lay in bed, scared of what was to come.

My biopsy was the first big hurdle I faced: I was petrified! I was given medicine to calm me down, but I could still feel fear whirring through my head. But the biopsy itself wasn't bad at all - besides one minor incident which left me crying for a minute or two, but mostly out of shock rather than pain - and it made me realize: all my worrying had been pointless.

I had gotten myself so worked up, so agitated and worried that I went in there expecting the worst (while I do often think in terms of "expect the worst, hope for the best"), I came out of there feeling like all my worry was for nothing. All that wasted energy, for nothing. It was pointless!

Worrying is a natural human emotion, and it's not to be ignored. The only reason I was diagnosed when I was, was because my parents were worried about my cough. It's an instinct, a warning sign - but sometimes, our minds run rogue. And that is when worry becomes a problem.

Since my biopsy, every procedure I have had has been much less of a worry - I've realized that there is no point in wasting energy worrying. At the end of the day, whatever is going to happen will happen whether you worry about it or not - so why make yourself feel bad, too? It's easier said than done, I know - but that's how I am trying to think. We have our bad days. I am not always able to push my worries away - I was absolutely terrified for my intrathecal chemotherapy, but again discovered it was absolutely nothing to worry about! I find it helps to trust your nurses and doctors - They know exactly what they are doing, and they will always do their very best to make you as comfortable as possible. Some things will be scary, some things will hurt - But that's just life, and at the end of the day, it'll all be over and done with soon.

Bravery is being able to face your worries and your fears - And this comes with everyday tasks. For the people who don't like talking on the phone, for the people who are worried about sitting exams: You are brave. Bravery is relative to yourself, and to a situation.

But always remember, it's okay to be scared. You can't always be brave, and you don't have to be, either. Being scared is part of life - it's a balancing act of bravery and fear, and so long as you're happy with where you are, I'd say you're doing just fine.