Half way through chemo

This week I had my fourth round of chemo, which means I'm officially half way through! Cue: celebratory bells, klaxons and all you can think of. It's kind of hard for me to get too excited as it's not over yet, and it's still an uphill battle, but it is definitely a good milestone.

At the half way mark they give you a scan to see how well the chemo is working, so today I popped back to St Bart's for another ultrasound. Although I'm not supposed to get the results immediately (they go to my oncologist, who discusses them at the weekly Multi-Disciplinary Meeting before my appointment with her) I cheekily asked the sonographer if she could let me have a peek at the screen, and if she was allowed to share the measurements with me. Luckily she obliged (I threw in the 'I'm going through so much crap with this chemo business, it would be good to know it's actually working' line) and it was good news. The tumour has shrunk by 60%, meaning it's less than half the size it originally was back in February. It's still there, but the chemo is definitely doing its job.

The news has given me a little resolve. Although chemo is really tough, it's working, and is nuking the cancer, so I need to persevere. I'm also moving onto a different drug regimen. My four rounds of AC are over with (bye bye to the 'red devil' Doxyrubicin) and my next four rounds are 'TPH', or Docetaxol, Herceptin and Pertuzumab. I've been researching these as they have different side effects, and Tanai and I will be purchasing some supplies to get me through these new drugs. For my next chemo session, I have to be in hospital for the full day, from 10am, as they need to keep me under observation for 6 hours following the administration of Herceptin, to check that I don't have an allergic reaction. The Docetaxol (or 'the tax') is the one I've heard lots about. It's the one that can make your fingernails fall off, and it makes your bones ache. I'm not looking forward to that one, but with today's news I will hopefully find some inner strength to keep going for the next four rounds.

My friend Dominic accompanied me to chemo this time, and I got a window seat in the ward, on what ended up being the hottest June day since 1976. We spent a lovely 5 hours putting the world to rights, and I am writing another blog post about some of the interesting things we discussed, around resilience and self-compassion. Dom works for a prostate cancer charity so really I was doing him a favour, allowing him to join me on a chemo ward for 'research' purposes. But joking aside, once again I count myself incredibly privileged to have the kinds of amazing friends who would do something such as accompany me to chemo. Again and again I am blown away by your generosity and compassion, and I know that's what continues to sustain me as this journey gets tougher and tougher.