Meeting my oncologist...

11th March 2008
Oncology. The branch of medicine that deals with the diagnosis and treatment of cancer. It's a department I'll be part of forever now, but glad that I'm going to get treated soon, real soon. I want to beat this thing, and I feel like I can win the battle. So far, I haven't given in.

We go along to the Georgina Unit. A room full of people, who's ill and who's not? It's difficult to tell. My sister, my Mom and I all sit down in the crowded waiting room. We chat a bit, wait a bit more then they call out my name. I jump up, and realise that the receptionist is looking for someone entirely OLDER than me. Yes, I really am too young to have breast cancer.
Suddenly, my Mom and sister jump up - "Didn't realise they'd called out your name - was expecting your maiden name!!" I suppose I'm more used to my married name than them - it's a shame all the hospital appointments have gotten me used to it though.

We go in to see Dr. Allerton, all find somewhere to sit and she starts the long appointment of taking my history, an examination (getting used to getting half naked by now!) discussing the chemotherapy, the need for radiotherapy and the preservation of my fertility.

"I would be happy to delay the onset of the chemotherapy by four to six weeks," Dr. Allerton says.
"Do you want referring to the fertility clinic?"

Of course, I say. "I have a contraceptive implant in my arm, will I need to have that taken out then?"

A rustling of paper, a flurry of phone calls and Dr. Allerton has rang the fertility clinic and discovered that I need this implant out, ASAP!! Hmmmm, wish I'd thought of this before. Oh well, have had other things on my mind - we even forgot to get the car MOT'd. She even rings a colleague of hers (a consultant in obstetrics and gynaecology who I know too) to try and pull a few strings, to get this implant out today but he's not trained in the procedure. I can sense some phonecalls of my own, using the cancer card to get around this problem.

Anyhow, the plan is to have some fertility treatment, save some eggs and start chemo as soon as I can. I'm to have a regimen called TEC, that stands for Taxotere, Epirubicin and Cyclophosphamide. Whenever I start it, I go into the day unit and have them administered via a drip, then go home the same day. I then have to wait three weeks until the next 'cycle' can start. I also will have other medication to take and will have be very careful not to pick up any infections from days 7 - 14 of the cycle. No socialising, no going into crowded places, no seeing small children, no visiting hospitals, care homes and I'll have to watch what food I eat and monitor my temperature. Sounds like quite a big deal to me. I'm also to ring up for advice if I get ill in any way!

Also, there are zillions of possible side effects - the biggies are alopecia (hair loss), risk of infection as I mentioned, mouth sores, gastric side effects, possibility of nausea and vomiting, fatigue - who knows what will happen though? I can have drugs for almost everything and I can try something called a 'cold cap' in order to help preserve my lovely head of long blonde hair - my pride and joy. I also met a wonderful, key person today - the chemo unit nurse Helen. She has quite nice short hair, blonde like mine and she suggests having my hair cut a bit shorter in order to help the cold cap work. Might have i cut like hers I think, will have to have a hair dresser appointment.

I'll also have to have a course of radiotherapy, where any remaining cancer cells will be 'blasted' to death - painless to me - over a course of a few weeks! That doesn't sound too bad. A million thoughts and feelings in my mind and heart now, when will all the treatment finish? When can I go back to work? All questions left unanswered, no-one quite knows the answers yet.

Dr. Allerton is busy on the phone, and has refered me to Midlands Fertility Services. "How much will this cost?" I ask.

"Well," she replied, "Usually in cases like this there is funding available from the local PCT, but the clinic will apply for you to see if you're eliglible. You'll need to pay for the initial consultation fee."

Well I'd better be bloody eligilble!! After all, I never asked to get cancer at my age, I've always wanted to be a mother and it feels like my hopes and dreams have been pulled from under me, like a precious priceless rug whilst there's nothing I can do about it, but hope that they be looked after whilst I get well and get rid of this invader. I know my life is important, and I'd all hope of having a child of our own up if it meant i'd live, but i think it's bloody unfair.

"WHY ME?"

On the way home, I arrange after some cajooling and big play-up of the cancer card to have my implant removed in two days time. Never been contraceptive free!! How scary! I suppose though I'm a married woman now, but have been warned by Dr. Allerton today NOT to get pregnant at all. The chemo drugs can damage an unborn baby and can lead to massive abnormalities - i'd rather not get into that situation, got enough to worry about.
Now, just to wait for the fertility clinic appointment and whatever lies in store for me there...