No more Chemotherapy (Chemo)?

The risk/benefit analysis in my case suggested that I would probably need to spend more months in hospital if I continued, thereby sacrificing quality time with the people closest to me.

Left: one of those most precious people; Niamh Ava Lyon, daughter to Kate and Andrew and Shan's and my granddaughter.

Apart from our close knit little immediate family, staying out of hospital would also mean spending more enriching time with other family members and good friends.

​The finest medical expertise suggested that more Chemo had a strong chance of a further incarceration in hospital and in palliative care. While this care to date had been excellent it also took a sizeable chunk out of 4 months of my life.

The Chemo had had to compete with an intransigent infection in my bloodstream that was never completely eradicated during that period.

Reading between the lines, tranche #1 of the hospital treatment from mid-March to mid-June had definitely been beneficial, in that the Leukaemia/AML had been much reduced for an indefinite period, A second tranche had a far smaller chance of a similar impact.

​The bottom line was that it would be my choice whether to undergo further treatment for potentially minimal benefit or use what time is left to seize each day to focus on the quality of life.

The biggest decision of my life.

I had been so determined to perhaps gain another year of life that I hadn't considered the other possibilities. I was going to have another tranche of Chemo and that was it. I was in a hurry because I had heard/read that the first tranche would be gradually eroded the longer I left commencing the second. I had never really considered other possibilities. I was going to live for more than another year.

Much of the time I was in hospital I was so out of it with the intended Chemo treatment competing with the ghostly infection(s) that I hadn't comprehended the seriousness of it all. Meanwhile the professionals and my family didn't wish to upset the applecart by risking destroying my hope. There were subtle hints but they needed the experts to confirm the situation for me.

Surprisingly, there must have been an inkling in my own mind that signalled the message that was confirmed by the experts on the day of the end of my palliative care. The message was one of balancing outcomes, none of which could be cast in stone, but the most compelling was: "no more chemo."

Above (l-r): three generations (Andrew took the pic); engineer and guard dog.

So how much longer?

This was a question no-one could answer. The consensus was perhaps weeks or months. This is kind of ironic seeing as I'm feeling pretty good at the moment with palliative care having just come to an end.

Sure, it's a bit patchy from day to day with the odd head rush, feeling of being a bit knackered and stiff, wobbly legs but it certainly doesn't feel as if I'm on my way any time soon ...