Cathie, this is probably entirely inappropriate, but I just HOWLED with laughter at the thought of you all in your surgical masks. Maybe I’ll get R to get some too, then we can play Doctors and Nurses, if nothing else…
And the Marmite is Cressida’s particular little food fetish - no relation to curing cancer, as far as I know. The other day she ran out, so we’ve all been v.concerned about the replenishment of her supplies.
My own bizarre practice is licking the salt off M&S Lightly Salted Tortilla Chips, which actually have plenty of salt on them, and it’s lovely. And helps with the nausea. Given that Marmite is so salty, too, maybe this is an emerging theme. Or maybe Cressida would like to stand up and tell us about her life-long addition to Marmite, entirely unrelated to chemotherapy, and how it has ruined her life. We’re here for you, Cressida…
So, anyway, you know I posted gaily this morning about how maybe the nausea was easing slightly, at last?
BIG MISTAKE.
No sooner had I posted that than it started to get worse, and continued to do so, to the extent that I started thinking that I needed to get some more antinausea meds, as the Ondansetron finished yesterday morning, and there was only Dom Peridon, and it no longer seemed to be working.
So, mindful of how many people had told me that ‘you don’t need o suffer’ and '‘if you’re a chemo patient, they will get you drugs 24/7, if necessary’ I called the Charing Cross Chemo 24 emergency number.
And it rang and it rang and it rang. And there was no voice mail. Thought I must have wrong the wrong number, so checked and tried again. Still no answer, after repeated calls. This is about 10.30 am this morning.
And my OH was out, briefly, so I was on my own, and at that point I just had a complete meltdown , and started crying my eyes out.
I’ve managed to hold it together all week since the chemo, pretty much, but this just sent me over the edge, even though it wasn’t really a huge emergency. I just felt so, so sick, and so,so helpless and the people who were meant to be there at the end of the phone, 24 hours a day, WEREN’T.
Poor R came back with the papers and found me howling out what was probably my entire accumulated angst since the diagnosis in September, having left me half an hour before being perfectly cheery. Not much fun for our partners, they never know what is going to happen next.
We tried the Chemo Line again, still no answer, and gave up. It didn’t rate an immediate A&E trip, so I gritted my teeth and kept self-medicating with the Diet Coke and salt. It also occurred to me this afternoon, rather belatedly, that since there are still quite a few of the Dom Peridone left, it might help to increase the dose, which for some reason I was regarding as sacrosanct. So now I’ve taken 3 instead of 2, and am going to have an extra dose tonight. It says on the info that in some cases te recommended dosage may be exceeded. At this stage in the game, though, I’m so ignorant I’m a bit nervous about messing about with dosages.
Anyway, now feeling a bit better - it generally seems to get better towards late afternoon/early evening, and can cope.
But will talk to the hospital tomorrow and ask for some kind of nausea meds consult.
(edit) Ooh, lovely pic, Lolly, and what a great friend!
