Where did I go? I guess December has gotten the better of me.
What have I been up to?
Well, I had my appointment at the Royal London Homoeopathic Hospital with Dr. Kassab - who was very nice. Her office was filled with plants which was nice - green and leafy. She was very kind and it was so fantastic to talk to someone who really acknowledged how much of a problem the hot flushes are - and then went on to say that she was pretty sure she could do something to help. Which is such a difference to the usual 'well, it's crap but we can't do much about it'. I'm not saying that other drs. etc have been unkind or unsympathetic; it's just that, generally, they can't offer much help with it. Plus, it's always considered as a *side-effect* rather than a problem in its own right.
So, I cried (as usual) and explained everything that had happened to me (which I hate doing - well, the explaining the whole when it first started, how I found it and all that stuff.)
It was really quite fascinating discussing it with her - she asked lots of questions about the emotional effect and how I felt when it happened and before it happened and what it felt like. I learnt some interesting things about them through this - for example, the hot flushes make me feel claustrophobic - having to have windows open at night; feeling compulsions to take off as many clothes as I can when they happen; panicking and feeling trapped when they happen.
So I came away with an initial prescription for 'Argent Nit. ' and another for 'Glonoine' if the other isn't doing much after a month. So it's been just over a week and I'm still waiting to see what sort of effect the Arg. Nit. is having......I'm not feeling like it's helping much yet but I'll keep on giving it a go.
One of my few working veins has given up the ghost so we had to have several goes at getting the cannula in on Friday ::shudder:: I never thought I'd say this, but; I miss my portocath.....I keep joking that I'll bring in my port and they can put it back in. But I was down to 2 or 3 functioning and easily found veins in my one usable arm and if we keep going with the IV pamidronate then I'm going to run out of veins!! Plus, who knows what they'll have to give me in the future. Eventually, if the Xeloda stops working, then I may need some other drugs. So, in the long run, it may be an investment to have the portocath put back in.....I guess I'll cross that bridge in due course.
So, then on Saturday morning (of course, these things never happen on Mondays...) I noticed that a mole on my leg was looking odd and scabby and darker. So, of course, I freaked out; convinced that it was skin cancer and it had spread and perhaps this was the initial cause of it all (irrational, much?) and so on. Oh, and that the 3 cysts I have in various places weren't cysts and I should have mentioned the new one instead of telling myself it was just another cyst etc. Argh, dying, end of world, man the lifeboats, plan the funeral, finish the knitting etc.
Poor Dear Other tried to reassure me - reminding me that the CT scan would have shown up other cancer spots, that even if it was abnormal it didn't mean it was cancerous, that it was small. And it was a case of me meeting logic and going 'lalalalalal cannot understand this logic-thing, s'cuse me, too much dying to do!' Poor, poor, Dear Other - he looked so sad and said he felt so bad about not to be able to make me feel better. (Bear in mind I'd thrown in a healthy dose of 'I'm so stupid; it's all my fault; I should have done this and that and the other; bad, bad me, blah, blah, blah') Well, he did make me feel better; but I felt pretty crap to begin with so it was better on a relative scale. So, after a weekend of 'argh!' and great fear, on Monday morning I rang my breast care nurse (well, the new one - the one who knows me best is on maternity leave - the nerve of it!) who helpfully said 'hmm, don't think it's to do with the Xeloda - go and see your GP. Bye!' Not quite as much cossetting and reassuring as I'd hoped for. So, I rang my GP's surgery and asked for an appointment that day - none to be had (of course) so I asked for my GP to ring me and headed off to Shiatsu where I spent at least half the session crying and wailing before we even started - but she was very nice and understanding about my neuroticness and was even kind enough to say that she understood my point of view about feeling that the cancer was my 'fault' because my body is me. By the time I got home it was getting on for 5pm and my GP *still had not rung me* and I was cross but decided I'd just ring for an appointment early the following morning but just as I was bad-mouthing him, he rang (at 4 minutes before 6pm....) and said 'it's about a mole?' and I said 'yes, it sounds pathetic, I know.' and he was kind enough to say 'no, no - do you want me to look at it?' (er, no - why would I want that? Please just use your psychic powers to divine it's status and we shan't have to bother with all this appointments business.....) Ooh, I am bitchy - horribly so, considering that he told me to come and see him the following day - a miracle because I can't usually get an appointment with him at all. But he squeezed his schedule or something and fitted me in.
So I showed it to him, along with a bunch of other ones and my cysts, saying 'what about this one? Ok, this one? Can I just show you this?' and he was exceedingly patient and looked at them all and told me they were all *FINE*. (YAY!) But he said that if I came back in a month then he'd look again and if I wanted to have it removed then he'd take it out and send it to be tested; so I probably will have it taken off - just so I stop peering at it and poking it (which was probably why it was red in the first place - dumbo.) Then he asked if there was anything else he could do for me - which I always think if very nice but very pointless; because what can he do? I was torn between saying 'yes, make it all go away' and 'yes, come round for tea - that will make me feel better!' But I didn't say either - well, I might have said the former in a not so facetious way. But I did whine a bit about not sleeping and he gave me a prescription for some Zopiclone (why do half my pills start with a Z or an X???) - just a small number, not a long term thing but he said it might help so I can make the most of my time with my family over Christmas. So, I went home a very relieved bunny and collapsed in a heap.
Remind me to tell you tomorrow that I left my glasses at Shiatsu, I'm getting a cold, I'm collecting preventative antibiotics and to show you the *bee-you-ti-ful* lace stole I was given as a Christmas present (which I've worn and stroked every day since I got it); plus my dithering over what to make with Pocketina's hand spun yarn (I'm currently too scared to knit it in case it all goes horribly wrong and I spoil it - which will make me cry, more, lots.) Plus, plus, my envy over the meeting and fah-bulous new creations of Laurie and Rebel.
Whee! Are you still reading? Or have you slumped over in a heap of overwhelmed-ness?