Hello luverly people of internet land! I am very happy to be posting today! In March 2011 I was given 12-18 months to live. Then in October 2014 I was sitting in my chemo chair receiving treatment, waiting for my oncologist to pop out and see me. He would usually say my bloods were ok and all good to continue. This time the nurse said he had told her to stop the treatment and I had to see him in his room. I got teary straight away as I knew what this meant. The chemo had stopped working. Shit. He said I had about 3 months, that would take me to around Christmas time. I wouldnt see my daughter start high school. Double shit. The thing that worried me most was how would the kids get home from school! The nurses took me into a quiet room and one by one they came in to say goodbye. They hugged me and cried. I cried. It was a regular sook fest. One of the nurses asked me about palliative care. I said no thanks, I wont be needing that. She said she isnt allowed to talk to me about that sort of thing. How ridiculous.
My oncologist started me on a drug called Stivarga. Its not on the PBS and he stresses that it isnt a cure. My last scan showed no new tumour growth and some tumours have started to liquify from the inside, zombie style. Todays tumour markers showe they are down to 23, they were 77 last month.
I'll take that! The medication makes me really sick but compared to the other side effect thats no problem. Woohoo!