Half Life – 53 – hell-o-ween
November 5th, 2021
It turned out to be one of the most painful weeks yet. During a temporary seven-day pause in the chemo, a sensible decision due to concern I would get covid since I was sharing a house with three people who had it, Nobby got active. Timing it perfectly, he chose to restart the excruciating left leg sciatica he likes to generate by pushing on that nerve in my spine. Later in the week the three places the cancer had settled into along my back joined in, leaving me not only in agony but also almost immobile. Day and night the left leg, hip, left shoulder and back pains competed for top spot.
Days of trying to find different ways to reduce it brought only temporary relief. Experimentation with sitting positions, a ‘Tens’ machine, and icepacks all brought it down somewhat, but it kept coming back. Reasonably generous doses of morphine, matched with the essential laxatives, gave only three or four hours of respite, allowing episodic sleep. Previously, the steroids had shrunk the swellings and radiotherapy had knocked Nobby back enough to keep it at bay. Additional painkillers, a restarting of the chemo (and the stronger steroids it has at the start) were the best chance of resolving it. For once, I was looking forward to chemo.
When not pulling my hair out from the sciatic and back pains, the rest of it was falling out due to the first round of chemo. Hairs scattered themselves on pillows, chairs, and the floor, effectively tracking my slow movements around the house. JJ the dog was now not the only one responsible for moulting everywhere. Our long-suffering shower found itself overwhelmed with the new draining demands placed on it and overflowed in protest while I wasn’t paying attention. The irresistible urge to gently remove clumps of hair and beard while watching telly resulted in my putting it in a small food recycling bag on the table next to me until The Wife declared the whole process too disgusting and banned it. Time to get the hair clippers out again and trim it down to tennis-ball length.
With the agony came a sudden shift downwards in capability, every crutch-supported step an effort, and going up or down the stairs a major mountaineering expedition. Steeling myself for every assent, it brought back memories of hearing my very elderly and frail grandmother give herself a pep talk every time she had to get herself up the steep and curving stairs in their house. It’s as much about being determined to get to the top as dealing with the discomfort it generates. One consequence is having to spend too long in chairs, with the only movement trying to find less painful positions. It increases the weakness in those body parts that do work, even if badly. Gentle exercise routines will be needed when they don’t result in in tears. Now, even bending over to get dressed needs the patient help of The Wife or, if urgent, one of the Boys. I’ve not yet asked either of them to help me put my underpants on, although I am sure the day will come.
Just when it felt like the deepest pit of hell had been found and things couldn’t go downhill any further, the calendar flicked over to the worst day of the year – Halloween. A festival of sanctioned extortion while celebrating death. A night I prefer to spend hiding in a bedroom with no lights on pretending to be out. The Boys, just to torture me, love it and dressed-up, went to parties, and wandered around knocking on doors demanding sweets. The haul this year was impressive with Older Boy returning with close to a kilo of sugar and colourings in bright wrappers. The note on our front door saying we were not participating, plus the lack of any pumpkins, did not deter the greedy children of the neighbourhood, and poor JJ was forced to bark every time the doorbell rang. Fortunately, the pain of Halloween is finite and over by the morning. Only the sad looking sunken heads of pumpkins scattered on doorsteps, and damp decorations covering those houses who take it too seriously, to remind everyone of the night before.
Chemo day finally arrived, although it was the day before which brought the first green shoots of relief as that’s when the pre-chemo steroids ramp up. It caused the swellings to reduce and, with it, a change in pressure on the nerves and spine. Like a tiny dose of magic, the pain started to slide away, sleep went back being awkward but possible, and the need to grab morphine every few hours vanished. As before, the trial drug (or placebo) went in first followed, a few hours later, by the vicious chemo drug which will have its usual impact of exhausting me for three days while, at the same time, removing any remaining un-bagged hair. The three-week starting gun has been fired, producing a few extra worries not just about our friendly neighbourhood covid, but also all the other bugs out there we have ignored for so long. If the chemo works as planned it will be worth it and keeps me many more steps away from being a genuine skeleton by the time Halloween ruins a perfectly good evening next year.
That sounds truly awful, I hope this week is less painful. You still manage superb writing, even when your subject matter is so tough.
The pain sounds excruciating Charlie. I'm so sorry you are suffering so much and hope this next round of chemo helps a bit. BTW I don't like Halloween either - loved one of those photos doing the rounds on FB the other day. It was a photo of a doorstep with a little basket of sweets and a hand-written note saying "Happy Halloween. Now take a sweet and fcuk off!"