Living with Molly: Here We Go Again!

🎵This Is How We Do It – Montell Jordan https://youtu.be/0hiUuL5uTKc?si=L0ouyp5WNDSncTWk

Well then, chemo number one is DONE.✔️ Completed. Finito.

Three hours at The Christie this morning and I’m now back home, sitting in the garden with a brew, somewhat pensive waiting for something to happen.

So far I’ve got a really dry mouth. That’s it.

In fact, I felt well enough when I got home to carry on with Operation ‘sort the shitty garage out’ and even do a little tip run with my son (yes in these same white pants which are now grey!)🫣

I’m fully aware this may be the steroids talking and Future Sam may have something to say about this level of confidence, but for now I’ll take it.

Today’s cocktail started with the supporting acts before the main event: steroids, antihistamines, stomach protection and anti-sickness medication. Then came the first proper chemo bag – paclitaxel for an hour, followed by a flush, and then the second lot which was carboplatin for around half an hour.

I took a photo of the paclitaxel hanging there in its glamorous yellow bag. There is something very odd about looking at a bag of liquid and thinking ‘Right then, in you go and do your worst. Or actually, preferably do your best.’

I’ve brought home anti-sickness tablets, steroids for the next couple of days, extra anti-sickness medication if required, mouthwash in case my mouth gets sore or ulcers appear and my personal favourite – injections to give myself in the tummy each day to help my blood cells recover. Luckily my daughter was with me to listen to the instructions as surely one of us will remember them?!

They’ve even given me my very own sharps bin. Nothing says welcome to chemotherapy quite like leaving hospital carrying a bright yellow hazardous-waste container.The instructions are very clear: do not shut the lid until it’s full.

Given my ability to accidentally create problems where none previously existed, I feel this deserves repeating several times.

DO. NOT. SHUT. THE. LID.

So that’s it, after all the appointments, tests, waiting, worrying, overthinking and preparation, it’s all underway and weirdly, sitting there today wasn’t frightening and I didn’t shed any tears (really surprising after last week!).

The nurses were lovely. I knew what was happening. I knew why I was there. And once that first drip started, there was actually something quite comforting about finally moving from waiting for treatment to having treatment.

Now comes the bit none of us can predict. How will I react? Will tomorrow be fine or will I wake up feeling like I’ve been hit by a bus? Will I spend the next few days asleep? I’ve no idea.

I’m trying very hard not to waste today’s perfectly decent Monday worrying about tomorrow’s potentially crappy Tuesday. For now, there’s a brew, a garden and, currently, a body that feels pretty much OK.

So I’ll take that.

One down.

This is how we do it. ❤️

Sam x

PS Top-Tip : if you ever go to hospital and are likely to be connected to a drip for a few hours, please wear elasticated trousers/joggers as it’s so much easier to get them up and down one-handed when you need the loo 🤣🤣🤣🤣