Square 1, here we come.

One of the risks of the endoscopic procedure was pancreatitis. The doctor advised 1) that symptoms included stomach cramps and nausea, 2) the severity ranged from a few days of pain to possibly fatal and 3) (here is the kicker) there is nothing they could do save for helping the body fight it. With all that in mind, you can imagine the 2nd and 3rd guessing going through my head when I awoke on Saturday morning with stomach cramps and nausea. For the past year I have actively avoided consulting Dr Google for medical advice, knowing the potential rabbit holes it can send you down. However, I knew some of the detail this time, and thus spent the morning pacing about with some degree of worry. By lunchtime, the pain had subsided, as had my paranoia, only for both to ramp up again by the evening, and then by Sunday it had gone. This shit really does play on your mind.

One of the other joyous side effects of jaundice is the itchiness caused by the deposits of bilirubin under the skin. For whatever reason it gets more pronounced at night, with the end result that sleep is disrupted by intermittent scratching fits. And thus days were spent feeling knackered and falling asleep. It was hard to get much done. The positive was that the yellow tinge in my skin and my eyes started to subside (albeit it from a pretty extreme point).

By Wednesday I felt presentable enough to face the outside world with a trip to Ashton Gate, to see City play Wayne Rooney's Derby County. In typical City style, we made extremely heavy weather in beating them 3-2, shipping a late 2nd goal to make for a nervy last 10 mins. So, for all of his attempts at Hollywood balls, it came to nothing. Hot on the heels of this feel-good result, we then went to Leeds at the weekend, messed around with changes to a winning team, and got battered in a flattering-to-us 0-1 defeat. Well done lads. In a league of desperately mediocre and inconsistent teams, we are standing tall against all-comers.

After I had been discharged from the hospital, I had not been given a follow-up appointment with my oncologist. so spent some days kicking my heels in a holding pattern, with the mental games of wondering what on earth was going on. As such, it was a relief at the weekend to get a blood-work form and an appointment letter in the post. If nothing else, some clarity on my situation would help the head, as well as the soul.

Monday came, and back down to the surgery to be needle-sticked, and then the appointment was Wednesday (yesterday at time of writing). It was a mixed bag at the meeting: the good news was that my liver marker had declined down to a near-acceptable level to restart chemo, and similarly, the bilirubin level had dropped, and was almost into its own acceptable level. The hope would be that both markers would decline further after another 2 weeks, and on that basis, chemo was provisionally scheduled, and the necessary consent signed. However, it was not all good. The oncologist also advised that there was progression of disease in all areas, notably the lungs, after nearly 4 months without treatment, and after the reductions from the earlier cycles of chemo, the masses were generally bigger than last July (before the 1st cycle).

Not going to lie or sugarcoat this one, it was pretty shitty to hear this news. But, I must admit that I had expected it, given the prolonged treatment break. Expecting something doesn't make it any easier to hear. That said, there is an alternative view to frame the news: if I had not undergone the chemo cycles last year, who knows what state the disease progression would be at. As such, I have to take the view that I need to continue to get on with living, as opposed to hanging around waiting to die, and work on the basis that more chemo will have a positive impact. There is still so very much I have to get done with my wife, my family and my friends.