Today sees a return to Leeds and a visit to my radiotherapist, who I’ve decided to nickname Frank. I’ve no idea if he’s called Frank, his surname is Murray. But his job is to zap my cancer to reduce pain so Frank Zappa seems reasonable.
Today’s appointment seems to be consultation and scan. It seems I then have to head back to Leeds next Tuesday to get zapped. I’ve not had a letter telling me this, but Oncobabe’s laptop seemed to say so.
While Leeds is a bit of a nuisance to get to, I would welcome something to reduce the pain. While throwing drugs down my throat has been good at sending me to sleep at 7.30pm for the last two nights, and amitryptolene helped with an afternoon nap yesterday, I’d really quite like to lead a life on minimal drugs for as long as possible.
I accept that sleeping myself gradually towards the end is no bad thing, but I’d like to think I’ve got a few months before that starts. Haven’t I?
Apparently I’m good to drive to and from Leeds for both appointments. Radiotherapy can trigger a nerve reaction, so that amitryptolene dose is being held back next Tuesday just in case.
My pain levels are nowhere near as bad as they were pre-diagnosis. As I limped towards then end of afatinib I lost appetite. No such impact this time, although I took my last osimertinib drug on Monday.
Apparently somewhere in the world they’re trialling osimertinib with other treatments. That doesn’t seem to be available to me and I can’t see any results suggesting a success. Maybe the Matrix trials are in on it. They’re still my main hope. While my scan showed the drug failing in places, it was still effective in others.
While I’m accepting of death I’m still not completely resigned to it.