Debuting my bald head - AUGUST 2022

Embracing my freckly bald head, although won’t be mad when my hair is back and I am once again distinguishable from my dad.

The last cycle was rough, I felt pretty grim whilst in hospital and not much better at home: the side effects are piling up now, they weren’t lying when they said the cumulative effect would make things harder. I can only manage about 20 yards and even then my Nan would beat me for pace, my skin feels as though I’ve burnt off the top layer all over, my eyelashes are mostly gone and you don’t realise how much crap they keep out of your eyes until they’re not there. (brows are hanging on in there!) I still got a couple of good days, I got to watch my sister play some netty, felt hungry for some family dinners in the garden, I got asked to be a bridesmaid for one of my very best friends and as always, got to squeeze my dogs. I am back in Nottingham again now, frustratingly my bloods weren’t good enough to start this round on time so it’s been a lot of waiting, but on the plus side despite being too old by about 3 weeks I have wormed my way in to a very cosy Teenage Cancer Trust room for which I’m very grateful!

A bit of an update in terms of treatment, and as with everything else it’s a bit bittersweet. The plan is still surgery after these 9 rounds but my consultant has decided that following the op we will be going again. We may even throw some radio therapy in there too.

He was definitely a bit worried about breaking the news to me, knowing that I’ve been aiming at surgery as the last step. I cried a fair bit, the idea of 10 more weeks of chemo is not something I can say I like the sound of, especially given how poorly these past few cycles have been making me feel. But, in these moments I’m reminded how fortunate I am that the team is willing to throw everything at it and that I am not having to advocate for myself, for more options. As my consultant said, “we only get one chance to treat this for the first time”. I am so grateful that he is in charge of my treatment, when I thank him he says “don’t thank me, it’s my job” but I am sure not everyone does the job the way he does.

So, the goalposts have moved a little, and so has my target date for starting to feel better and for ringing that bloody bell, but the day will come. What’s 5 more rounds?