Decisions, Decisions...

So, it is decided. I AM going to have chemotherapy.

I did think, going into my oncology appointment on Tuesday, that I was going to be given a list of reasons why it was in fact not necessary for me to have chemo.  The phone conversation with the liver surgeon about the success of my operation was very positive, as I’ve mentioned previously… he seemed to be saying that there was just no need to trouble myself with any chemo – the cancer was gone.  I also mentioned previously why I was sceptical about that.

In these days of second wave Covid, patients are asked not to bring anyone else to their hospital appointments, but I knew that I would be given lots of information I would immediately forget.  So I asked if BFF Nurse L would accompany me, since she was already working on the chemo day unit that day, and would already be all PPEd -up... also I knew that the discussion would make a lot more sense to her than it would to me.   Luckily she was able to get a bit of time free to come with me, and thank goodness for that, because the only thing I could have accurately predicted about that hour was that I would forget all the details.   It didn’t go the way I was expecting, at all.

I had heard a lot about my oncologist – Mum likes to do her research and had already filled me in on Dr S’s long list of credentials.  L also told me how brilliant she is and how lovely she is with her patients .  That was all good to hear.  I’m a little ashamed to say that the first thing that struck me about Dr S was her footwear – the most beautiful shoes I’ve ever seen.  (I’ve been thinking about them all week and searching for them online, and I’m not even a particularly shoey person really!)  These are the nearest I’ve found but still not as beautiful; her shoes had a lower, more kitteny heel.)  Anyone wearing shoes like that had to be trusted.

 

Shoe envy to one side, Dr S. really impressed me with her knowledge and her candour.  She told me right off the bat that she was somewhat on the fence about what to do for the best in my case.  There were various unusual factors in my particular situation (naturally I can’t remember them now!) which meant that the ‘usual’ course of action would not necessarily be best for me.  There were a lot of reasons based on data from clinical trials why NOT having chemo would be a perfectly sensible decision.  I did a 180. I had gone from thinking I was going to insist on chemo, to thinking I was about to surprise myself and everyone else by deciding not to have it.

And then I was given all the reasons (again based on data from clinical trials) why going ahead with chemo would be ‘perfectly reasonable’.  At this point I think my brain blew up.  When Dr S. said she’d done a lot of talking and would now like to hear what I was thinking, I ceased to function for a moment!  What was I thinking?  I just honestly didn’t know!  Insert exploding head emoji! 🤯  Then my eyes teared up.  I was overwhelmed and confused and needed to talk it through with some people.  I wanted to hear what my friends and family thought about it, consider their thoughts, and see how I felt then.  So that’s what we agreed I should do.  I left with the promise of a letter explaining my options, and an appointment booked to go back in 2 weeks to tell her my decision. 

I had been blindsided and now just felt inert. I knew Mum would ‘want to know t’bottom o’ meggy’ (as Grandma Nellie used to say!) so L came to the rescue and explained everything to her for me.  Mum was upset.  She had wanted answers and certainty.  I watched their faces carefully, looking for clues to point me towards what I should do.  I couldn’t consciously find any.  L asked me which way I thought Dr S. was leaning, and I realised that I had felt a vibe from the oncologist (with no idea how or why I felt it) that I ought to go ahead with the treatment, albeit with all the information and no guarantees.

I spent the afternoon turning it over, but I kept coming back to those gut feelings.  Although it was only very slim, there was nevertheless a chance that having chemo could put me in remission for good.  I couldn’t imagine how I could ever feel good about not taking that chance, even considering all the risks and the shite I might have to get through.

When my phone flashed up that the hospital was calling later that afternoon, I answered quickly.  It was Dr S.  She said she had been thinking about me and my situation, and understood that I had gone away with a big decision to make, so she knew it was bound to be on my mind.  She said rather than let me stew and worry for 2 weeks, she thought it might help me to decide if I knew what she thought I should do.  YES.  That would definitely help.  She had been to talk to some of her colleagues about my case, to try and get some sort of consensus, and they had all agreed with her that it was not a straightforward case, but, all things considered, they would all advise me to go ahead with treatment.  That’s all I needed to decide. The experts and my gut were alligned.  

So now I'm ready, let’s do this!  My first chemo is booked in for three weeks time.  I’m happy with the decision and I know the risks.  I think sometimes there is power and peace in the knowledge that you have chosen to do something and are responsible for however it turns out.

 

Last time I had cancer, when I was going each day to the hospital for treatment, there were some beautiful little birds (made from the wires that go around champagne corks) in a display case in the foyer. https://www.champagnebirds.com/ I saw them every time I went in and out of the lift to radiotherapy.  I thought to myself then, when this is all over, I’m going to get myself one of those little birds.  And I did.  I bought a lovely little bluetit who sits on my mantelpiece at home, and he makes me happy every time I see him.  

This time, I told Mum and Lynne, when all this is over, I’m getting myself a pair of those amazing leopard print heels.  😁