Even the longest journey starts with a single step

It's hard work sitting in a reclining armchair all day. I don't know how those people at DFS do it. I get fidgety at the best of times so it was fairly inevitable that I'd be up and down like a yo-yo and that was before they intravenously pumped me full of  2 litres of saline to flush out my kidneys and a further litre of anti sickness drugs before the main event of 2 litres of cancer killing fluids were pumped in from a rather suspicious looking black plastic bag, not dissimilar to that which you may be given if you were to make a purchase at a certain type of adult shop, or so I am told. At least all this liquid this meant I had somewhere to go to make my fidgeting more purposeful.

Anyway 9am until 6pm in one place. It's like being back at work on a  half day but with an intravenous drip attached. Although unlike the office though, it was seemingly very acceptable to have a nap this afternoon and so I did.  I also read some of my book, listened to my ipod, communicated with many people via text, email and facebook, played scrabble against Mr Man (Of course I did...) and did a few other brain teaser puzzles, but after a certain amount of time cabin fever kicks in and nothing could amuse me.

It didn't hurt though, not that I was expecting it to.  I had a lot of questions about whether it felt different when they put the chemo drugs in (no), and whether it hurt (no - its just a small scratch when they put the needle in for the cannula at the beginning of the day.) Apparently nurses are no longer inclined to say that you may feel a little prick which is a shame really as you would have thought that in a chemo day room everyone could do with a giggle. Nor have I had any unusual side effects yet.  I have been sent home with a goody bag of medicines to counter a myriad of issues and so I think I have it all covered. I am back there again tomorrow and Thursday but only for an hour or so each day as tomorrow is just one type of Chemo drug rather than today's two and I don't have to have the hydration ritual before and after as I did today.

So, today's happy thought is this.  I have done the hardest part for this cycle, and on a programme of six cycles I therefore only have to do this five more times, so I am almost 17% through the long days at Harley Street Clinic. Another happy thought is that somehow inside me as I type the Battle of the Omentum has commenced and the War of the Pelvis is well underway. With my strong, positive and brave outlook, the love and support of all my family and friends and some kick ass drugs now on the case, I know where my money is going, and it is not on the invading cellular army.