The churning in my stomach didn’t go completely but it started to subside as I slowly came to terms with what my last blood test result meant. Seeing my oncologist this week helped but I’d be lying if I said what’s happening, and what’s likely to happen, isn’t playing on my mind, because it is.
We (that’s me and my oncologist) agreed that for now I’ll stay on the Bicalutamide then, if the next PSA blood test that I’ll have in June confirms that the cancer is active again, which she thought was more likely than not, the plan is I’ll go on to a 6 to 10 cycle course of Docetaxel, which is one of the chemotherapy drugs, at the same time as taking Bicalutamide. Once the course of Docetaxel is finished I’ll continue with the Bicalutamide but will add another hormone therapy called Zoladex.
Unlike Bicalutamide and other hormone therapies that are given indefinitely until they stop working, the chemo is a set course given in 3 week cycles. I’ll have 6 or 10 cycles. I didn’t know what a cycle was so I had to look it up. What I read is not straightforward and seems to involve algebra and trigonometry, both of which I failed miserably when I was at school about a hundred years ago, but assuming mine starts sometime in July it’ll end sometime between mid-October and mid-January. I could get between 1 and 2 years more by going on to chemo now than if I waited until I was on my last legs, according to the encouraging results coming from the Stampede Trial, so 6 months of chemo, a buggered holiday and a not-so-Merry Christmas seem to me to be a very small price to pay. I can understand why some people might not want to try it because they could have a bad time on chemo and then not live any longer, but for me it’s definitely worth trying and I do want to take the chance.
For now I wait. Everything hinges on the next blood test. In the last few days I’ve had three different people tell me that I’m handling all this well. I’m not, I’m just being me. Until last week my brilliant handling of the situation had involved kidding myself that maybe things weren’t as bad as I’d been told a year ago. I’m not calm all the time (ask my partner) and I’m still unable to think of the inevitable. I put it to the back of my mind. I’ve been having restless sleeps and wake up in the middle of the night, my mind racing and thinking about everything. My last blood test result changed things inside my head. It made reality sink in that little bit more. If I didn’t know before I really do know now that nothing is going to cure the cancer (my badly behaved cancer is how it’s been described) but if Docetaxel and Zoladex can slow it down and give me more time that’ll be better than nothing.
Extra bit: Since posting this a few friends have contacted me thinking I was already on my last legs. I’m not. Honest I’m not! Sorry if I gave that impression, but I’m genuinely touched by everyone’s concern. What’s described above will hopefully extend my life beyond what it would be if I didn’t try it. At the start of 2015 I was told I had about 7 years on average, more or less, and I’m trying to make sure it’s more. I still look very well (far too well to be offered a seat on the Tube). It’s true that everything that’s going on has given me a lot more sleepless nights recently, and boy do I get knackered easily, but I’m out and about all the time and I fully intend going on several marches this year (and next), including the May Day one in London and the Pride March and anything else that takes my fancy, although anything after July this year might be a bit more difficult than usual.