Urgent Memo

To: K.M
From: Sacha C
Date: Friday 30 October 2009
Re: Updating my blog re the fecking fec

Hi K
I need you to do me a favour and update my blog. Wednesday was a total nightmare and I can't possibly get it together to type and think and make sense so just take what you can from the following notes and whatever you do, try to make me sound sexy. And strong.

Don't tell them that I left my anti-nausea drugs at home. I didn't want to delay my first f.e.c chemo so I winked at the nurse and crossed my fingers when I told her I had taken the two little yellow pills. Liar.

Leave out the bit about me crying as she sat beside me and injected the first of the three FEC drugs. F is fluorouracil which is red and makes your void (nurses fancy word for wee) bright pink. 5 out of 10 people treated report soreness of the palms of the hands and soles of the feet. E is epirubicin which can slightly increase your risk of leukaemia and C is for cyclophosphamide which pretty much destroys fertility and associated functionality for the female form. I've finished my family but always thought I'd be a great surrogate or egg donor and a few of my dearest friends might need my help. And now the chances of me being of any use to any of them are practically zero. Tears didn't flow, they just gently rolled down my cheeks while the three people sitting less than 2 metres away from me pretended not to notice that the positivity poster child was falling apart.

Do mention that the beautiful woman sitting directly opposite me let me know that I looked much fatter on TV than I do in real life. "The camera really packs it on doesn't it?" I was chuffed because after watching my clip for the 32nd time I too was begining to notice the extra fat.

Tell everyone that C and I had a delicious lunch at Sala Sala, which I followed with an excellent piano lesson, after which I picked T up from school and then chundered every 25 minutes between 4pm and midnight. Don't go on about how I was unable to move or read or talk for long without a trip to the loo - it will sound self-indulgent - but you can relay this fabulous chat I had with P while I was leaning over the bowl.

P: Mum, what are you doing?
S: Being sick, my love.
P: Why?
S: Because I went to hospital to have some more medicine today.
P: Why?
S: To make me better.
P: Then why are you being sick Mummy?
S: Excellent question my precious princess. The medicine makes me sick and then it makes me better.
P: (long pause) Okay. Can we play memory when you've finished? And can I shut the door cos it's really smelly?

Tell everyone that I'm much better now; and able to eat, drink and drive as well as any pregnant women carrying septuplets. That's my best approximation of the nausea.

Please ask people not to share their best anti-nausea tips. Ginger, I know, diet lemonade, I know, don't get cancer, I know, eat the new Fonterra ice-cream, I know. Poor souls who get the placebo in that double blind trial. New meaning to empty calories.

Let them know I'm a bit over advice at the mo'. Here's what the back of my Clinique face wash advised in the bath tonight: Avoid contact with eyes. If product does get in eyes, rinse and consult your opthamologist. Yip, 'cause we all have one of those on call on Friday nights don't we? It's enough to make you sick.

Thanks babe. Should be up to writing an update myself next week. Remember, sexy and strong.