|Stuffing Trev up the inside on the F1 track|
Although I'm officially a tourist in Singapore, I hadn't seen much. Chemo was a seemingly endless cycle of medical treatment, leaning my head against taxi windows, and staring at Ilse's ceiling.
I had lost 28% of my lung capacity. My red blood cells, haemoglobin and white blood cells were all extremely low. This meant I had difficulty breathing, processing oxygen, and fighting infections. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired.
A local walk (well, shuffle) now starts my day before anyone else is out of bed. I worked hard to increase my energy levels before Trev & Janice arrived, and even managed to meet them at the airport.
|"Slap-slap-slap-heeeeeeeed" near Chinatown|
We spread out a tourist map, covered a lot of ground, and ticked off many of the main attractions. I could feel my stamina building every day. Just walking over a footbridge without collapsing with exhaustion (or chafing) felt like a major achievement.
I was scheduled for lung and blood tests, plus a CT scan for tumors on the day of their departure. The respiratory doctor was 'very, very happy' with my jump from 72% to 83% lung capacity. Dr Wong pointed at my scans on her lightbox and explained that although two of the four tumours in my lungs had disappeared, two dots remained. Thankfully, my beta-HCG count showed that - for now - the dots look like benign scars and I'm still free of Chorio. The only bad news was that my cholesterol levels had spiked due to Trev's appetite for fried eggs.
During chemo, I was tested for everything under the sun on a continuous basis. The recent 10-day hiatus actually heightened the tension as we awaited the results. We have come to realise that such tests will be the new 'normal' for at least the next 12 months. It's going to have a big impact on our lives at many levels.
|Moniek and Janice in need of more Singha beer|
The doctors have given me the green light to travel to the UK on the 28th for Elaine's wedding. It's been my #1 objective since I was diagnosed with cancer. The feeling of joy and relief is hard to put into words. I'm bald and weak, but I don't care - I'm getting on that plane!
As I mentioned in a previous blog, this song gave me comfort mid-chemo and the lyrics haunted me during cold turkey: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_cPxKq-gMDo&feature=related. It's one of dad's favourites. Rick Wright (who sings this introduction and also wrote 'The great gig in the sky') died of cancer in 2008. Trev now plays it with an amateur band at his local pub. I can feel a few pints coming on ...