I got my scan results today and despite really believing this drug would have done *something*, it sadly hasn’t. There has been a little progression – not loads and it hasn’t spread anywhere else – but enough that I have to come off Taxotere and move on to the next phase of THE PLAN. I’ve waxed lyrical about Alison a zillion times, but as the situation gets more serious, she gets more amazing. She’s a thinker, a strategic one and she just always knows what to do.
So. Last week I went to see a clinic in Harley St called the Sarah Cannon Research Institute to discuss a new trial they’re running for FGFR inhibitors. FGFR is some kind of protein, don’t ask me what, it’s all far too techie for my little brain but essentially they’ve arranged for samples of my original tumour to be tested to see if I have this FGFR thing, in which case I’ll be eligible to join the trial. A grim thought that they keep slivers of these horrid great lumps when they take them out of you but that’s how research works I guess. Anyway, if I am eligible Alison wants me to go on this drug first. If she gives me any more chemo at this stage, that might automatically exclude me. If I’m not, then it’s next stop Eribulin. She needs to apply for this on the Cancer Drugs Fund as it’s quite expensive and therefore not a ‘standard’ treatment, and the paperwork for this, and the trial drug, will all take a few weeks to get sorted so she has advised that now is the time for a holiday. It’s going to be at least another month before I start any more treatment so it makes sense to get away for a few weeks, rather than just sitting on my hands at home waiting. Goldenballs is now in work negotiating how long he can take off and when. Lansons are, as ever, 100 per cent behind me. I very much hope that tonight we will be looking at, and hopefully booking, flights to Bangkok so we FINALLY get that holiday I’ve been banging on about for God knows how long.
Weirdly I’m actually OK and I haven’t fallen apart like I have done previously. Maybe I’ve just had enough practice now. I hated Taxotere, it was horrid so I’m glad I don’t have to do any more of it. You could argue that I lost my hair for nothing but I’m not really that bothered about that – chances are I would have lost it at some stage anyway so at least now I have my Ariel weave to hide behind, it’s out of the way. My lashes are just about hanging on, and thanks to Julie’s clever needlework my brows look pretty great.
Obviously there is a small niggly worry about how many drugs I have left to try; the hardest thing is that on paper, things really don’t look great for me, so how can it be that I don’t feel any different? I really don’t. It’s completely bizarre. So I refer back to my earlier post – as long as I am feeling well and getting on with what is, on the whole, a very lovely life, then screw what the scans show. They’re only important when it comes to treatment plans which is The Boss’ territory, not mine. My role in all this is to stay sane and happy, and largely I am. I’ve got the most wonderful, beautiful relationship to nurture, and that is absolutely my priority at the moment.
I hope to God I can get on this trial and that I get some good news soon. But for now, nasty chemo planned for Friday is off and I’ve got a few glorious hospital-free weeks ahead whilst the boffins sort out what happens next. So it’s not all bad. Whatever may or may not happen in the future is not worth losing valuable happy time over so for now it’s THAILAND HERE WE COME.