The Cortisol Diaries

Note: I genuinely didn’t plan to have this as a follow up blog to the last one just so I could complete the Grease reference in the title. It’s worked out perfectly though so I’m going to take full advantage. When someone posts a blog in the middle of the night you know its unlikely to be particularly positive. I can’t sleep but I’m too tired to do anything useful so I’m kind of hoping this is cathartic. The second round of chemo (or eighth, depending on how you look at it) went as well as any so far. The days I spent in the hospital were not any longer than they needed to be, the nurses were excellent, I’m feeling very few side effects and had a weird amount of energy for the weekend. I spent Saturday in Hyde Park sat outside the festival listening to The National as the sun set which was idyllic, and then Sunday watching the best game of cricket ever and my man Novak somehow scraping a win in the tennis. This week, though, has been very different. Not so much in terms o...

When the nurses found out I was back in for more chemo a look of fear washed over their faces. They insisted I needed a port inserted into my chest because my veins are now less than useless for putting anything into. In what was the strangest operation I’ve had so far, I was put under some very strong local anaesthetic. Any time someone talked to me I could answer clearly and I could move on command. Other than that, I have absolutely no idea what happened during the op, and then fell into a blissful sleep. I woke up very confused about what had happened in the last few hours and with yet another wound on the right side of my body. It reminded me a little bit too much of my nights out in my early 20’s. Other than that, it was my smoothest round of chemo so far. I have had very limited side effects, the main one – as ever – being fatigue. I countered this by following my doctors’ advice and staying active: walking as much as possible and smashing my mates at table tennis after kickin...