7 minute read

You can’t scare me, I’ve had chemo

Those were the words I found printed on a mug when I was looking for a present for someone who had recently completed her chemotherapy treatments – and boy is it true!

There are many people who refuse to have chemotherapy, or indeed any conventional treatment, for all kinds of reasons. I can understand this. Cancer treatment has come a long way but chemotherapy (I’ve never had radiotherapy) can still be brutal. It kills healthy cells as well as cancerous cells. As it was, though, my doctors told me that this was my best chance of staying alive for longer than three months and I was willing to bet my life on science and medicine.

For me, this would turn out to be the right decision because it undoubtedly saved my life. I read some advice online recently that said the first thing you should do when you find out that you have cancer is radically change your diet and lifestyle. I had been told that I was going to die. Soon. And whilst I do believe it’s possible to change your health in just a few days, it can take months to see long-term benefits. My long-term wasn’t looking so… long.

It’s true that I would go on to adopt some pretty healthy eating principles into my daily life, and I’ll be writing about those soon. When I was having chemo though, I was eating a lot of foods that I don’t eat now and, whilst my diet wasn’t overly unhealthy, this was when I first learned to listen to my body because, honestly, at times, eating was hard.

I would often feel sick, my taste changed, and, at times, I simply didn’t feel like eating. I have Oesophageal cancer, which alone can also cause eating problems (many other cancer types can also do this), and I was having difficulty swallowing. It would be a while before we got my cancer under control, and I needed a dietitian to help me until then.

I had lost a lot of weight, and my body simply couldn’t get enough calories or protein to maintain my strength. At my worst, and I didn’t know then just how close to death I came, the only thing I could manage to consume were oral nutritional supplement drinks, three times a day for three weeks; that was it, nothing else (and they were disgusting).

There’s no real way for me to describe how I felt when having the treatment. When you read about chemo, it often focuses on the fact that you can lose your hair, and I did (head to foot including my eyebrows), and this may be the worst thing for many people, but it doesn’t say anything about how it can make you feel physically. I felt hollow. As though someone had scooped out my insides and replaced them with poison. Which I suppose they had.

To give you an idea of the toxicity of chemotherapy drugs, the nurses have to wear protective gear when handling them. They have to be concealed in a protective jacket and incinerated immediately after use. In fact, when I went to the toilet, I had to stay seated and flush twice to ensure particles didn’t end up in the air.

I just didn’t feel human for a lot of this time, and even though I would get a week (out of every three-week cycle) where me and my wife would do something together, it was hard! My wife deserves a lot of the credit because, truly, she kept me going and I love her all the more because of that. I made the right choice for myself based on all of the information available, and you should too. All I know is that I’ve been able to create so many wonderful new memories since then.

My first night on a cancer ward, however, wasn’t one of them. It was a Sunday in May (2023) and I was due to start my treatment the next morning (this would be delayed until the Wednesday because my kidneys weren’t functioning at a level that could withstand the toxicity of chemotherapy which, again, says a lot really). I remember how vulnerable and scared I felt that night. I hadn’t really had time to process what was happening, and it all happened so fast (read Cancer of Unknown Origin for more on this). My eating wasn’t yet under control. And then they brought out the evening meal. Chili con carne.

I’ve always loved chili – I still do (although I make it meat-free these days with black beans and I’ll post the recipe for my sexy bean chili soon), but the biggest meal I’d eaten in about three weeks was a tuna sandwich. Every time I ate something, I would vomit. Sure enough, I ate some. And vomited. Fortunately, this being a bed on a cancer ward, there was always a stack of sick bowls to hand (the ones that look like little cardboard hats).

I would come to spend a lot of time on that cancer ward. And I would see far worse things than someone being sick. Still, that first night, I felt really self-conscious. There I was, the new kid on the block, knelt on my bed, throwing up whilst surrounded by complete strangers enjoying their food. I didn’t really need to worry though, because most of the other patients had seen it all before and just carried on like it was the most natural thing in the world (some of the longstanding patients would later affectionately bring it up from time to time).

They really were an amazing bunch of people. We helped each other and I’ll never forget them. It also did wonders for any shame or embarrassment I may have been carrying around too, because you really have to leave your dignity at the door when you have cancer. I witnessed, and indeed suffered, some truly undignified moments during my stays. But this was just another thing that I would learn to accept.

These are not just eggs

People often complain about the food in hospitals, but the food on the cancer ward was great (it had to be nutritional for a start and wasn’t the same as you would get in the rest of the hospital). Apart from the people, it was the one thing I’d actually look forward to, even though I stuck to a soft diet of bland foods at first (mashed potatoes, rice, pureed fruits, smoothies, yogurts, bananas, cereals with milk).

I avoided anything greasy, fried, or strongly spiced because these would make me sick, and I didn’t drink coffee or alcohol. I would, however, have cravings all the time, for example, for a long time I’d have to have two hard-boiled eggs every day and so, anyone who visited me, usually my doting parents, would have to go to the onsite Marks & Spencer (it had to be M&S) before they were allowed to see me (because we’re very posh in the North-East of England).

If I found a food I enjoyed, or even just that I could keep down, I would usually stick with it until I didn’t enjoy it anymore. It didn’t matter to me what it was and you should be prepared to try new things because, as I already mentioned, your taste can change and it’s probably not a good idea to force yourself to eat your favourite foods because you can easily go off them. One other thing I was crazy for was the cheese and cracker packs they would hand out and I’d always try and keep a couple of dry crackers by my bed to help with the feeling of wanting to be sick all the time.