I've been meaning to do a write up about my PICC line for the last week, but time got away from me a bit as I also started chemotherapy. So, apologies about the delay as this is one of the topics I've received the most questions about!
Sorry that I didn't update yesterday - between cupcake making in the morning and a post-lunch chemo session in the afternoon, I was pretty wiped by the evening and just fancied a snuggle on the sofa with the dog. There are three things I want to talk about in today's post...
First day of chemotherapy is done. It feels really good to be able to say that; for the last couple of weeks everything has seemed in limbo. I have been weighed down with the fact that I have cancer, but caught in that frustrating period between knowledge and action. Today, finally, I started fighting back.
Yesterday my parents and I attended something referred to as a 'Confirmation of Consent' meeting with my absolute babe of a Nurse Specialist, Theresa. Sadly this wasn't some sort of disruptive feminist workshop, but a medical appointment about chemotherapy. The point of the session is to run through your cancer treatment plan, its side effects and risks, answer any questions you may have and then finally get your permission to start poisoning you for your own benefit.
Instead I have been wading my way wide-eyed and babbling incoherently through myriad conversations about my fertility. Basically, am I ever going to want to grow some sproglets inside of me one day? Because [spoiler alert], cancer and its subsequent treatment might make my chances of natural conception as likely as Trump winning an honorary ACLU award.