Robert Fisk says he may stop taking his lifeline (Image: Daily Express)
How often do you pay attention to the little leaflet inside a packet of medicine? Do you throw it away or just get annoyed because it always seems to be located at the end of the box that you’ve opened? I used to do the same, but now discussions with my doctors involve trying to work out which drugs will be the least dangerous. Yes, instead of simply thinking about what’s the best medicine for my health issue, they have to think about which combination is least likely to kill me.
This is especially true as my major health issue is incurable bowel cancer and, following on from recent scan results, I’ve learned that the cancer is growing. It’s only growing in the areas where it has been present for the past three years, but there is a danger that some of these cells may split off and start multiplying in other parts of the body.
If this happens, there’s a chance my plan to go to Wimbledon next year (the tennis tournament, not just the town) would be impossible, as I’d be dead.
This definitely wouldn’t be a good look, so my cancer doctors have represcribed a chemotherapy drug called oxaliplatin, which would come with a massive leaflet if it were something you could get from a high street pharmacy.
Instead, it comes with a lengthy information session with a nurse before the first treatment. This includes being told that you may feel your throat is closing up and leaving you feeling unable to breathe.
I’ve seen people surrounded by medical staff and worried relatives after the emergency button gets pressed, when they are given this drug for the first time.
This isn’t my first rodeo with the drug, as it was part of my treatment plan for the first year of cancer. The maximum number of times it’s recommended to be given to patients is 12 because the side effects can be completely devastating. I had it 20 times, and then one more time when it was incorrectly prescribed last year.
And, by the time you read this, I will have just had my 22nd dose of the drug. It’s been effective inside me before and helped reduce my initial massive tumour into a much smaller mass in my bowel.
But, this isn’t without its risks, as the long-term side effects can be devastating.
I was lucky last time as the tingling in my hands only lasted six to eight hours afterwards, and the pain when touching cold things wore off after a few days. And I know all the tips of the trade, like wearing gloves when getting things out of the freezer and getting drinks from the fridge.
But I’ve also seen how badly it can affect people, leaving them unable to walk or grip things properly – so effectively helpless in their own lives.
It is a massive worry that this will happen to me too. I’ll do my best to prevent it by keeping a side effects diary to show my medical team just how much it is affecting me. And, if necessary, I’ll refuse to have the treatment.
I’ll also do my best not to let the worries about the side effects and about the cancer progressing define me. The easiest way to do this is by having as much fun as I can.
This included just an hour after getting the scan results when I roped in my mum to be my photographer at a lavender farm.
It was nice to just be completely away from hospital life, and it was the closest I’ve got to a holiday so far this year (especially as there was an Italian man in the cafe afterwards).
Maybe I’ll get further afield one day, if the chemotherapy side-effects don’t finish me off.