Chemo II - Cycle the 6th and last - Bicycle 2 - 23.12.2020

We've again made no Devon trip so my gently increasing cycle training has mounted up over the last ten days or so. Have been able to set distance goals founded on Christmas card deliveries. Still, Monday was disappointing (Covid tests and bloods) - rained all the early morning so reluctantly consented to be driven into UCLH. I don't mind getting a bit wet cycling, but think it's probably best to avoid spending time hanging around in wet clothes. Of course it had stopped raining by Gospel Oak so cycling would have been OK and I'd have dried off before I arrived - but hey ho - didn't know that at the time. 

But today is chemo day and there was just enough window of  Met-Office-predicted-not-raining-time to pack my panniers and pedal in for an unusual afternoon appointment. Panniers contain/ed heavy bike locks, tablet and Kindle for amusement, personal effects, a bag of snap and, thanks to daughter risking her health shopping, a selection of hand creams and lotions as a thank you to the staff here.

Parked the bike in the CCTV-monitored stands under the overhang of the UCLH glass tower on Gower St. Last time I rather anxiously parked on a street sign post just in front of the Macmillan Centre having failed to find a public monitored bike park. Afterwards, I wrote to UCLH - the travel bit of their website was poor for cycling and even poorer when it directed to a TfL page that  no longer existed. I got a really nice, helpful email back saying the area I've used today is for everyone, not just staff, but that I should still use my heavy locking equipment, and that's what I've done. Fingers crossed. 

In the chemo suite, there are are even more buckets out than usual, and I've spotted an NHS towel stretched out on the floor too. The almost relentless rain must be wreaking havoc with the seals on the glass roof or do the architects deserve a hard stare?

It's busy but my nurse says things are really just returning to normal after reductions in treatments due to Covid. I predict, and am later proved correct, that this will be a long one.

We are a few days into Tier 4 and new-variant Covid; the staff now have visors as well as face masks. I have to try to be calm as the trial people want a good blood pressure while I'm here - BPs taken at home are interesting to them but not definitive. There are a couple of Christmas trees above the circular seats and some Christmas cards hanging on the polycarbonate screens guarding the nurses' stations. If I'd known, I'd have brought one too but I thought they'd be considered too germy - the thank you cards that used to be on show disappeared with Covid.

The last few days have felt rather sad and gloomy: grey weather, Tier 4, variant Covid, sabotage of our Christmas meal (planned for the 20 December in the back garden) and also this looming last chemo. While it'll be great not to have the side effects and the side effects of the anti-sick meds, the quid pro quo will be the removal of the chemo's protective power. It's miserable and exhausting, but it has been working - Ca 125 is consistently down to 11. I'm going to be launched into an unknown next phase whether trial or standard  treatment. One relapse has removed the tantalising notion of permanent remission - however unlikely that was, I did hope for it and was disappointed and diminished when it didn't happen. 

Still, the days are getting longer now. I planted them a bit late but the Aquadulce Claudia broad beans are already sprouting at the allotment, despite rain and mud. I'm going to try really hard to sow onion seeds in trays on Boxing Day - I'm told that's the traditional time. Bring on the spring. Bring on the sunshine. Bring on the Covid vaccine.

🎅