The Glow Edit by Maria

Life, Unedited. 🍂
And so the countdown has begun.

25 radiotherapy treatments.
Five weeks.

And because so much of this is completely out of my control, apparently I need to find something I CAN control… so I’ve made myself a radiotherapy advent calendar. 😂
25 little boxes. One for every treatment.

I can’t control what the treatment does to my body.
I can’t control how I’ll feel from one day to the next.
I can’t control what happens next.
But I can tick a bloody box.
And weirdly, that helps.
☑️ ☑️ ☑️ ☑️ ☑️
Five down. Twenty to go.

But last week brought another little reality check.
I had to go back to the chemo ward to have my pump fitted for the next five weeks. While I was waiting, I watched all the people having their infusions and found myself feeling sorry for them.

Then it hit me.
I’m one of them.

It actually made me feel a little sick. Not because of the people or the ward, but because it reminded me how awful your body can feel when you have “controlled poison” being infused into it to kill cancer cells.

I think I’d almost mentally put that part behind me.

And then there’s the thought I still catch myself having.

“Wow. I have cancer. Me.”

I genuinely still can’t quite believe it.
I’m still me. Still laughing, making plans, worrying about normal things and, obviously, still thinking about my hair.

But I also have an advanced cancer.
And strangely, alongside the fear, I’ve found myself thinking, I’m so lucky.

I’ve seen posts from people battling cancer where their reality is very different. People whose cancer is terminal, where treatment is about managing it and giving them more time.

It makes me incredibly sad, and if I’m honest, sometimes guilty.

Because some days I feel frightened, some days the exhaustion hits harder than others, and sometimes I just get fed up with what my body is going through.

But my treatment is being given with the aim of curing me, and that is something I feel incredibly grateful for.

I’m learning that scared and grateful can exist at the same time.

So for now,
Turn up.
Get through it.
Tick the box.
Then do it again tomorrow. ❤️

Life Unedited.

Chemo-radiotherapy, the next stage

And just like that, today I’m moving on to the next stage of my treatment.

The intensive chemotherapy is finished, and now I’m starting five weeks of chemotherapy alongside radiotherapy.

My PICC line was technically supposed to come out last week, but this chemotherapy would normally be tablets, two a day, every day.

There’s just one problem…

I have a proper tablet phobia.

I actually gag and feel sick just watching someone else take tablets. 🤢😂

So, rather than tablets, I’ve decided to keep my PICC line in and have the chemotherapy delivered through it using my pump at home.

I’m used to having my pump for 48 hours after chemo. This time, I’ll be wearing it continuously for five weeks.

I’m sure I’ll get used to it, but sleeping, showering, getting dressed and doing normal everyday things are going to be a little more complicated!

Then there’s the radiotherapy.

The intensive chemo I’ve just finished travelled through my bloodstream, so it treated my whole body. The aim was to treat the tumour and also reach any microscopic cancer cells that may have escaped, helping to stop them growing or spreading elsewhere.

This next stage is different. The chemotherapy alongside the radiotherapy helps make the cancer cells more sensitive to the radiation, while the radiotherapy is carefully targeted at the tumour and surrounding area.

25 sessions. Five days a week. Five weeks.

I’ve already had my planning appointment and now have three tiny permanent tattoos to help the team position me accurately for every treatment.

So I now have three tattoos I never actually asked for. 😂

I know what the potential side effects are and roughly when they’re likely to kick in. That doesn’t make me any less apprehensive though.

I was hoping for a bit more of a break after the last round of chemo completely wiped me out for a week.

Instead, it’s straight into five weeks of treatment.

I’m secretly hoping I don’t get the full side-effect package.

I’ve already had quite enough extras, thank you very much. 😂

One treatment at a time. ❤️

Life, Unedited

This week made me stop and think.

Last week, round 5 of chemo really knocked me for six.

I spent pretty much the whole week in bed, resting and taking it easy, which I found incredibly frustrating. I don’t like feeling unwell or feeling like I’m doing nothing. I’m much happier when I’m busy, so being forced to stop gave me far too much time to think.

Because I’ve spent the whole of chemo saying I’ve got through it relatively unscathed. But when I actually stopped, I realised I haven’t really thought about everything I’ve been through.

Each round meant around six hours in the chemo chair, then going home with a pump delivering more chemotherapy for another 48 hours. For two days I was literally tethered to it until it was disconnected.

There were medications, injections to help my bone marrow produce more white blood cells, and a couple of heart scares.

My hair has been shedding heavily every day. I’ve been incredibly lucky to keep it, but watching it get thinner and seeing all that hair coming away has been emotional. I started with a lot of hair and still have plenty, but it’s still hard to watch.

The neuropathy has been brutal. For about a week after each infusion, cold can cause intense nerve pain. Gloves to get things from the fridge. Wooden cutlery because metal hurts. No cold drinks because it feels like swallowing glass.

We even had to put covers permanently over the door handles because touching them can set it off.

There’s also been first bite syndrome, that horrible pain with the first bite of food, and mouth ulcers.

When I actually say it out loud, it sounds like quite a lot.

And yet, I’ve just carried on. I’ve adapted, found ways around things and got through the difficult days.

Maybe that’s why they call us warriors.

You don’t necessarily feel like one while you’re doing it. You’re just getting through the day in front of you.

Five rounds of intensive chemotherapy done.

And now I can finally stop and think, bloody hell… I actually did that.

First part of my cancer treatment complete.
Deep breath, sleeves up… onto the next.

Some weeks change everything ❤️

Last week we had my oncology appointment to discuss the results of my latest scan. We were hoping for good news, but not daring to expect too much. Then my consultant said the words I’d been desperate to hear:

“Your tumour has shrunk by 45%.”

45%. 🙌🙌

After everything my body has been through, it was so good to know that it was actually working.

And because I’ve responded so well, I’ve been told I only need five rounds of chemotherapy rather than six. Tomorrow is my final round, then I move on to chemoradiotherapy.

But what I’ll never forget is Rich turning to me and saying, “This is the first time I’ve felt like I’m not going to lose you.” 😢

One of the first things I did was call my sons. For once, I was able to give them some good news and, just for a little while, take some of the worry off their shoulders.

And as if that wasn’t enough for one week, I found out that my Maltese citizenship had been approved and I’m now officially a Maltese citizen. 🇲🇹

I’ve always been incredibly proud of my Maltese heritage, but being officially Maltese makes that connection even more special.

I was looking forward to reconnecting with my Maltese family and visiting my grandad’s old home, where I spent time as a child. I have so many lovely memories of Malta and family from when I was younger. Sadly, we had to cancel that trip, which makes this news feel even more special.

And to top it all off, we celebrated Rich’s birthday with a lovely Turkish meal. 🎂 It’s been such a long time since I’ve been able to enjoy something as simple as going out for a meal. Before chemotherapy, my symptoms had made even that difficult. Sitting there together, enjoying good food and celebrating his birthday felt really special.

For the first time in months, it felt like we could start planning our future again.

My journey isn’t over yet. There’s still chemoradiotherapy and surgery ahead. But this week has given me something I’d been missing, that feeling that there is a future to plan for.

Some news heals your body. Some news heals your heart. This week, I was lucky enough to receive both. ❤️

Life, Unedited: The Bit I Haven’t Shared

There’s something I haven’t really talked about in my cancer journey yet, and that’s my staging.

Before that appointment, I was convinced they were going to tell me I was going to die.

That sounds dramatic now, but honestly, that’s what I thought.

My thoughts went straight to Rich and my sons, and what I was going to tell the boys.

Greece. Our plans to retire.

My Maltese citizenship. Months of tracing hundreds of years of family history. I was so excited to finally be becoming a Maltese citizen.

In my head, all of it was gone.

And then there was my business. The hours, risks and hard work. I’d only just started getting busy.

And suddenly I was thinking:

What happens to all of this if I’m not here?

I’ve always been someone who puts her armour on when things get difficult. I put on the brave face and keep going.

But underneath it, I was terrified.

Then came the staging appointment.

There was one thing I needed to hear.

The ‘M’ Whether the cancer had spread to other organs.

I needed it to be zero.

M0.

And it was.

T3b N2 M0 V+.

Honestly, I barely heard anything else.

Rich and I almost high-fived each other walking out.

The doctor had to remind us it was serious. We hadn’t appreciated just how advanced the cancer was.

A few days later, the rest sank in.

Stage 3B. Locally advanced, with lymph nodes involved and venous invasion.

And then the treatment began.

I’m now three-quarters through the first part, chemotherapy. It’s been tough, but I’m getting through it and grateful for the days I feel well and feel like me.

My first progression scans are done, and this week I find out how the treatment is responding.

I didn’t realise how much this appointment had been sitting in my mind until the emotions caught up this weekend.

I remember how frightened I was waiting for those first scans.

This time I’m nervous, but I’m also feeling really positive about where I am.

I don’t know what I’ll hear, but I’m hopeful.🤞

There’s still treatment ahead, but there’s also a future I’m still planning for.

And right now, that feels pretty bloody good. ❤️