HOW ARE YOU? Three words. They can be trivial and yet hugely impactful. So often, its asked as a throwaway remark, on a par with hello, hiya, what’s up?. During lockdown, it became more genuine – we really did want to know how people were, in what has fast become the weirdest year of most people’s lives. Yet, I find myself tired of it, nay, actually peeved at being asked it. It sounds awful, as I write it now in black and white, but imagine being asked it multiple times a day, by friends, by family, and then by the amazing radiographers, the dietician, the nurses, the clinician – and these people are amazing, they really do care – it’s a genuine question – they want to know if your side effects are worse, whether medication is working, but I am bored of talking about how I am, I crave hearing about something fun, so I find myself responding ‘yeah, am good’ or ‘same same’.

You see, this group of people have been my world for the past 6 weeks. A relationship that intensifies because you’re seeing them 5 out of 7 days a week. I desperately want to engage in hilarious banter, but some days it just fails me.

I’m fed up of the daily dance, I’m fed up of being asked if I’m sticking to the diet because my bowel is not in the right place for the exacting measurements for radiation. Twice I have broken down in tears at the very question of “how are you” in the waiting room of the radiotherapy department – not my finest hours, and both times resulted in me wailing that I wanted out and didn’t want to continue – I was mortified about it the following day! But these guys have seen it all.

You see radiotherapy has been kicking my ass. I knew from the long list of potential side effects, it wasn’t going to be fun, add into that, the fact I have stents and IBS and had just finished a course of chemotherapy – chances were, “potential” was actually going to be “likely”. And I can safely say, that to date, it’s been the most miserable experience – I would take chemo over it any day of the week – this is not something you’ll hear many people say as radiation is considered the better cousin to chemo. The daily grind of doing an enema, waiting, downing a pint of water, bladder scans, pee a bit, pee some more, on the bed, being lined up, re-adjust, and then finally having the actual treatment. Doing all that, while you actually feel you need to pee every 5 minutes – although finally I got some drugs that helped with that (brand name Vesicare – absolute lifesaver). You see, its only really 15 minutes of actual radiation delivery, but the whole song and dance took around 2 hours and sometimes longer depending on whether your bowel and bladder were playing ball.

I lost my appetite, which meant I was just reaching for anything that would go down quickly and easily to allow me to have my tablets – most of which are required post meal, I felt nauseous frequently and ended up vomiting on occasion and I developed the most horrendous pain in my pelvis – pain in the bones is just not fun.

Chemo seemed to have much more of a fanfare – the countdown of each one down, playlists and love – I think it’s almost synonymous with cancer treatment, but yet, that daily grind, 30 sessions of radiotherapy really felt quite lonely and I found myself almost empty on the positivity tank, often unable to even put the usual front on and avoiding chatting with family and friends. 

Now, I’m reading what I’ve written and it’s not my usual happy go lucky self – and I’m reminded why I didn’t share the blog over Christmas and New Year – hardly positive! BUT, I have managed to still laugh throughout this period and I feel almost back to my normal self. I completed the course of radiotherapy and am definitely enjoying not having to do it every day.

And so on World Cancer Day, I’m thinking about all those embarking on or going through treatment in the middle of this global pandemic. I am always amazed by the human ability to persevere in the face of adversity and I am forever thankful to the doctors, nurses and charities for everything you do for cancer patients and their family.

I remain convinced that miracles happen every day and there is always hope.

If anyone wants to donate to our GoFundme page, which will buy our boat and then all proceeds upon sale will to the charities we are supporting (Macmillan, Cancer Research UK and The Royal Marsden) as part of our campaign to row across the Atlantic, the link is here:

http://gf.me/u/yh86u5