Tough Titty

I may be nearly 2 years out from active treatment, but this book couldn't have arrived at a better time. Just when life starts to feel 'normal' again, out of nowhere the fear of recurrence rears its ugly head. The aches get more pronounced. The mood hits the floor. You want to opt out of life for a few days, until you are ready to face it again. Tiny little life events trigger these monumental mood shifts. Any kind of stress seems to wipe me out - I used to thrive on it. Oh how life is different now. So, the book, a coffee, and with my dogs and the singing birds in my garden for company, I'm going to read every page to hopefully understand why this keeps happening to me - and what coping mechanisms I can employ to stop them! # # #

Two years ago. It feels like a lot longer. Two years ago I ended up in hospital for 10 days with sepsis; my PICC line was infected, my temperature blew its top, and my kidneys began to fail. My veins collapsed, even the ones in my feet. It was a miserable experience - especially the trans-oesophogeal echocardiogram (camera down throat) without any sedation due to lack of viable veins. And all this took place over the Easter weekend, when everyone was celebrating with family and friends. The delivery of the basket of goodies from friends was the kick I needed to fight on - as I was struggling at that point. The messages in the card, the treats, magazines, books - gave me something to focus on between endless infusions of antibiotics. It was a time in my life that I NEVER want to repeat.
But here I am, two years on, and I'm slowly learning how to live again. I dare to dream about a future with my family and friends. I still have some hurdles to overcome - anastrozole seems determined to take my mobility away as my ligaments are weak - but I'm working on it! My mental health is a struggle at times, and life is different now to how it was before. It's more precious than it was before. And it's important to find something positive in every day. The fear of recurrance is never far from my mind, but you somehow learn to ignore it most of the time.
I have big plans for my life, and I hope and pray that cancer has decided not to bother with me anymore.
To everyone who was there for me throughout my ordeal, THANK YOU. You have no idea how important you are🪻🌷🌻🥰♥️

😊 I've not been officially told yet, but 3 weeks ago I had my 2nd year post-cancer mammogram, and today an OPTIMA trial research nurse (who phoned for a totally different reason) told me that ...

The curse of aromatase inhibitors. The lack of oestrogen is causing nothing but problems with my joints and ligaments. A teeny tiny 'nearly slip' getting out of the shower led to 2 weeks in a wheelchair, one week on crutches, and now this contraption. An MRI revealed a badly ruptured meniscus and mild arthritis. BC is the gift that keeps on giving, even 18 months after active treatment ended 😔😔 **kcancer

Same feet, different waiting room. Different hospital. Different reason. Scanxiety is through the roof ... I/they think I have lymphodema in dodgy b**b. I'm just paranoid that they'll discover something sinister lurking too. Oh for this to be over with ... 😬

Waiting room feet 😔 First of 2 appointments today : this one is with a musculoskeletal consultant to chat about my aches and pains. Wondering what miracles he can perform?

It was quite a while ago now, for which I apologise ... but back in the summer (last year!) I joined a virtual skincare and make-up workshop with Look Good Feel Better, and it was really, really good. Got lots of great advice, met lots of lovely people (albeit virtually) , and it gave me a real confidence boostx Look Good Feel Better

https://toughtitty.co.uk/feelings/look-good-feel-better-skincare-and-make-up-virtual-workshop/

Look Good Feel Better: Skincare and Make-Up Virtual Workshop I booked on to a virtual Look Good Feel Better Skincare and Make Up Workshop. It was a lot of fun and gave me a real confidence boost

I've not been feeling great lately 😔 It seems that exemestane is as bad as anastrozole in terms of aches and pains - for the last 10 days I've been crippled with aching joints, tight muscles and a stitch/pulled muscle in my side that hurts whenever I move. As a consequence I've been feing very sorry for myself.
For months now I've been cutting back on sugar, refined carbs, dairy and fat ... because this is healthy ... yet for all this I'm still miserable.
So today, knowing I had a couple of mangos that needed using up, I decided to bake a cake. A mango, coconut and lime cake, full of all those things I've cut back on. Today I don't care - I find baking therapeutic, and I can't wait to try a slice later on 😄 Tomorrow I'll be back to watching my diet - I'm having a day off being good, and I'm loving being such a rebel!

World Cancer Day 2022

A day to remember those we've lost.
A day to acknowledge what we've been through.
A day to be thankful for the love and support we've received.
A day to pray that those cures aren't too far away.
A day to embrace life.

To all the warriors and survivors of this dreadful disease, I send you all a massive virtual hug today # # #

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZUObmVkJfg

‘PINK’ Song: Dolly Parton, Monica, Jordin Sparks, Rita Wilson, & Sara Evans The song “PINK” was recorded by Dolly Parton, Monica, Jordin Sparks, Rita Wilson and Sara Evans as an anthem for the breast cancer community in support of Su...

So last night I went for my booster Covid vaccine (my 4th jab as I was having chemo during the first two). All was fine until this morning - I couldn't stop shivering, as I was so cold. Hot water bottles didn't help, so I had a hot bath, followed by some paracetamol and bed. About an hour ago I threw the hot water bottles out the bed, because I was overheating (my eyelids were sweating?!) I keep checking my temp as these are very 'sepsis-like' symptoms, and I don't want that again ... but it's ok and just a common vaccine side effect. I'll be fine tomorrow, and ever-grateful that I'll have more protection against Covid. But never again will I brag about breezing through the vaccinations! 🤣

** Finally, a new blog post! **

I managed anastrozole for 6 (long and painful) months ... As with all cancer treatments, it was a rollercoaster of physical and mental challenges. I honestly thought I had it under control - the pains and aches were annoying, but controllable. After 5 months my hands started to hurt - fingers stiffened, then locked, then hurt. I'm spending ££ on amazon buying gloves for arthritis, finger splints, and I'm even considering a TENS machine that I can use on my hands. I had a two-week break from anastrozole, and my general body aches improved immeasurably, but not my hands. And now I've started a new drug - exemestane - I hope this will be kinder. But one week in, and my hands still feel like they are slowing turning to wood.

And to think, I thought chemo was tough going ... this is an endurance challenge!!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR everyone ... let's hope it is a good and kind one for us all # #

https://toughtitty.co.uk/treatment/anastrozole-my-6-month-diary/

Anastrozole – My 6 Month Diary I took anastrozole for 6 months before I screamed for help. My hands were (and still are) agony, so I took a break. And it was lovely!

After 6months on Anastrozole, I could take no more. Every joint ached, from my jaw to my toes. Both hands developed trigger fingers and often 'stuck' (and still do). It was difficult to focus on the positives when you felt so run down. So I was told to take a break, to see if the symptoms improved. Apart from my hands, which are still causing issues, the other aches and stiffness subsided. I've been more mobile these last two weeks than in the months preceding them.
But all good things come to an end, and because my breast cancer was so strongly fuelled by oestrogen, I need to be on these darn tablets. So today I'm starting Aromasin (exemestane) ... if I could cross my stiff and achy fingers I would, as I want (need) these to be kinder to me.
Isn't it strange ... you go through surgery, chemo, radiotherapy, and in my case sepsis, only to be floored by a tiny tablet taken once a day. I'm hoping these tablets help keep cancer away, but give me a better quality of life for the remaining 6.5 years I need to take them.
Send positive thoughts - I've just taken tablet 1!
**kcancer

My mammogram was CLEAR! Bone density scan shows strong and healthy bones - so, so far, all is good! 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

One year ago today I had my second lumpectomy. Since then I've had chemotherapy, radiotherapy and am now on awful hormone therapy. Today , in a few minutes, I have the first mammogram since the week before that second operation. Never before have I felt so sick and scared. This is when we find out if the hell of the last year has worked. Gulp ... here we go ...

Two days ago was my 1-year 'Cancerversary' - one year since my diagnosis. If you have followed this page from the beginning you'll know about all the procedures and treatments I've had, but this post is about feelings. The emotional rollercoaster of a cancer diagnosis, and learning to process everything once active treatment ends. It's not just your body that needs to heal x

https://toughtitty.co.uk/feelings/one-year-cancerversary-looking-back-while-facing-forwards/

One year ‘Cancerversary’: Looking back while facing forwards Few people talk about the emotional rollercoaster of a cancer ‘journey’. So, on my one year 'cancerversary', let's talk emotions ...

What a difference a year makes … Today, 12 months ago, I drove to our local mobile scanning wagon to experience my first ever routine mammogram. Never in a million years did I think they would find anything wrong. Well, the rest, as they say, is history …

https://toughtitty.co.uk/treatment/so-i-had-my-first-ever-mammogram/

So … I had my first ever mammogram - ToughT***y Out of the blue I was invited for a mammogram as part of a pre-50s early-screening trial. It was a whole new experience, that's for sure!

I have completed my first month of hormone therapy, taking anastrozole (with zoladex injections) that will hopefully help stop any oestrogen-fuelled breast cancer recurrence. These 'magic pills' aren't plain sailing, as they force your body into a chemical menopause - with all the side effects that goes with that. Here's how the first month has gone ...

https://toughtitty.co.uk/treatment/breast-cancer-preventative-treatment-anastrozole-month-1/

Breast Cancer Preventative Treatment: Anastrozole - Month 1 Having finished active treatment, I've now started hormone therapy (anastrozole) that, if I tolerate it, I'll be taking for at least 5 years

Today I’m meeting up with my oncologist to discuss, among other things, which hormone therapy I’ll be starting in the next few days. Here comes the menopause. Can’t wait 😭😭😭

Today is National Thank You Day, ahead of the NHS’s 73rd birthday tomorrow. So many people have helped me over the last 10 months. While I was awake at 3am this morning (thank you insomnia) I thought I’d list all those that I can remember (thanks chemo brain!) So, I’d like to give my heartfelt thanks to …

• the mammographer who spotted the anomaly and took an extra scan to be sure
• the nurse who never left my side as I had two further mammograms and two biopsies
• the technicians who did the scans and the doctor who did the biopsies, who then had ‘that’ job of telling me I had cancer
• the amazing surgeon Mr Crane, and the lovely anaesthetist who took me into theatre, twice, and took that cancer away
• the doctors who used ultrasound and the mammogram torture machine to place markers in preparation for surgery, and the nurses who kept me calm through the ordeals
• the pre-op assessment nurses, who I didn’t like at the time, but who I came to realise put my wellbeing first
• the radiographers who carried out my CT scan
• the trainee clinical psychologist who helped me immeasurably, and who I wish I could still talk to
• my oncologist, Dr Shah, who listened to my questions and let me choose an option that worked best for me, and who I hope will be as supportive when I meet him again this week
• to the phlebotomists who took a LOT of blood tests over the months
• the Covid19 testing team at the hospital
• to the nurses in the chemo unit who made the experience bearable
• to the radiology nurse practitioner who put my PICC line in (yes, the device that nearly killed me!)
• to the doctors in A&E who took out the PICC line and got me on antibiotics when I had sepsis
• to the nurses on the ward and the endless doctors tasked to finding a vein for (yet another) cannula through which to drip antibiotics
• to the consultant and doctors on the ward who explained things simply to me
• to the porters who pushed me around the hospital when I needed a chest x-ray, arm ultrasound, and a trans-oesophageal echocardiogram (yuck) - and all the staff who performed these procedures
• to the renal doctors who visited me on the ward daily to update me on the state of my kidneys!
• to the oncology nurse who kept my family up to date with what was happening
• to the doctors and team in the Acute Medical Unit, who somehow managed to help me finish the full antibiotics course
• to the radiotherapy team who made the boulder holder and who remained patient and calm throughout all 10 zapping sessions, and to the nurse who phones me weekly to check I’m not suffering too much
• to those working in the labs, checking blood, analysing samples, growing cultures
• to those working in the clinics, answering questions, arranging appointments
• to all the receptionists and admin staff who enable all the above to do their jobs

All these trained professionals who diagnosed, treated, put me back together (a work in progress) and who will keep an eye on me going forwards - these people have collectively saved my life. All these amazing people, helping just me. That is quite an impressive support system I’m sure you’ll agree. All of them part of our amazing NHS. So, on this national ‘Thank You Day’, I want to say Happy 73rd birthday to the NHS for tomorrow - we are so lucky to have you x QE2 Hospital Lister Hospital Mount Vernon Cancer Centre

Sorry for the silence - I've been enjoying my first week of being 'post-active treatment'! (I've also been single parenting while my husband is away visiting his mum, and I might just be finding this very exhausting!) So - radiotherapy - it was time to write it for the blog, so here we go!

https://toughtitty.co.uk/treatment/so-thats-radiotherapy-done-and-dusted/

So … that's radiotherapy done and dusted - ToughT***y Radiotherapy. A total of 10 sessions over 2 weeks. A drive of 1 hour each way to and from the hospital. Here's how I got on

☢️ Radiotherapy - LAST ONE! ☢️

🎉🥳🎉🥳

🎵🎶🎵🎶 It's coming home, It's coming home, It's coming ..
The Boulder Holder's coming home 🎵🎶🎵🎶

I made it! I don't know why the clouds are crying today - today is a good day. One more zapping and I'm finished. No more 'active treatment' for me, thank you very much. I've done everything in my power to prevent 'the Fu**er' from returning. A mammogram picked up an anomaly, a brilliant surgeon removed it, and drugs and technology have hopefully mopped up any stray cells that wandered off looking to cause further trouble. My body has taken a beating, but it's ended up stronger. I've taken a beating - and it's changed me - in a positive way. In two weeks' time I'll start medication for 5-10 years that will hopefully keep me cancer free into old age and beyond! It's a good day. And yes, I plan to celebrate!

Yesterday's appointment not only ran on time, but I went straight to the scanner rather than the waiting area ... they were waiting for me. I think I even managed to be treated within my allocated 15 minutes, rather than overrunning. Let's hope for the same today! # # #

Radiotherapy #8
.. Today is the penultimate session. It's a weird feeling knowing that tomorrow will mark the end of my 'active treatment'. Of course it isn't the end really, as there's hormone therapy and monitoring, and maybe that's why tomorrow doesn't feel like 'the end' of all this. It's just another milestone reached ... which is brilliant! I'm currently feeling so healthy too - proof that after 10 months of treatment I'm definitely tougher than I ever gave myself credit for.

Back to yesterday: Not a good session. When I phoned to check in, they apologised for the long wait I had the previous day and said that things were currently running on time - music to my ears! So dad and I sat back in the car, windows down in an attempt to find any breeze at all, and we waited. 5 minutes before my appointment time, my mobile rang - excellent! But it wasn't excellent. Rather than being told to make my way inside, I was told that there was a delay of up to an hour 😞 No real reason was given, and I'm afraid I was a little fed up in my response.

30 minutes later, my phone rang again, and I was called in. After a further 20 minutes waiting in the waiting area, I was collected for my session.

It took two attempts to line me up - the boulder holder needed a removal/reposition this time. Because these sessions are 'boosters', which target the tumour bed/where the cancer was, they wanted to check that the tumour bed was receiving the right radiation dosage ... so I got covered in a few stickers and they did an x-ray or two. One of the stickers was on my leg - no idea why! Anyway, the session went ok, and I was heading to my car in no time - and well ahead of when I feared. So I DID get home in time to not only collect the kids from their sports clubs but to settle in front of the TV in time for the Wales footy kick off!

It's raining today. It's my dad's last chaperoning trip out too, as Huw's getting the Mount Vernon experience tomorrow. At least we won't melt today. But will the session run on time ...?

Radiotherapy #7

Why oh why did I mention my previous session being on time? Doh - tempting fate was an understatement. My dad - accompanying me on the drive to keep me company - slept the whole way there yesterday. He hasn't been sleeping well because of the heat and the pain from a dodgy knee, so I didn't have the heart to wake him or even turn on the radio for company!

The hospital carpark was busy, but I found a space ... in full sun, so within minutes of turning the engine off, we were baking. And then I phoned to check in ...

"One of the 9 radiotherapy machines has had a major power outage, so we're having to share the patients from that one with the remaining machines. We're currently running about an hour behind appointment time" :(

The wait was torture. There's nowhere to go, no shade to sit in - so we just waited, and waited and waited. An hour after my appointment time I was called in to the main waiting room. 45 minutes later I was still there! I was finally collected for my session 1 hour 49 minutes after my scheduled appointment time.

I was positioned and lined up quite quickly. They left the room to start the treatment and the machines started to move, and then just when the zapping usually takes place, it seemed to stop as soon as it started (it usually zaps for 15 seconds). So they tried again. And again. Then one of the radiographers came out to tell me the machine wasn't working, but to stay really still as an engineer had been called! I can't remember how long I remained strapped down, in fear of even twitching as this could change my positioning. My arms - in cuffs above my head - started to ache ... and my nose started to itch! It really was a case of trying to zone out as the alternative was a panic attack. I then heard the machine moving around above me again, and then the zapping noise - and I counted to 15 before it stopped, so it was working! Yay! The machine then moved into the second position and did a 2nd 15 second zap, and then I was done.

I was then swiftly led behind a curtain to get dressed, as the next patient was already walking in.

To add insult to injury, on the drive home, my dad reclined his chair and was promptly sound asleep and snoring! He is 81, so I don't begrudge him - but he woke up shortly before we reached home. Tiredness - from the driving rather than the treatment, I think - is kicking in now. I'm really hoping today is closer to the appointment time, but I also fear that it could be worse if that other machine hasn't been repaired. I really, really, really, really want to be home in time for the Wales football match kick off. I 'should' be - but nothing is certain.

Wish me luck!

Radiotherapy #6

The silence is a good thing ... the appointments are running closer to time, and the team have finally worked out how best to position me! Yesterday was truly record-breaking ... not only was I called in ON TIME, but the lining up only took one attempt! I was home in time to have a 45 mins nap before doing the 3:30 school run! Am I tempting fate for today? Probably!

Today my appointment is at 12:45 ... so I'm leaving the house shortly to make my way there. I had a great telephone consultation with the radiotherapy team yesterday morning before I set off. We talked about the after effects of radiotherapy - that although I'm fine now, the burning usually kicks in around 7-10 days after the last session. For ladies that have a boulder holder, like me, the symptoms are often slightly more harsh, so I need to moisturise, moisturise, moisturise and hope I'm one of the lucky ones that goes through it unscathed.

We also talked about my treatment beyond radiotherapy. This Friday - last radiotherapy session - marks the end of my active treatment (yay), but it's not all over of course. I then start hormone therapy, which quite frankly scares me half to death. There are 'options' to be considered, as there's three drugs that might be suggested to me ... so I've started writing down 'Pros and Cons' lists for each of them to work out which one I think is best for me. Of course, I then need to feed that info to my oncologist, and I'm hoping for a face to face appointment to do this so they can be discussed properly. All I know is that whatever drug I start it cannot floor me - it cannot make me gain weight. It cannot make my joints ache to the point I can't get out of bed. It can't allow the cancer to come back. Once active treatment is over, the onus falls onto me to get fitter and lighter. My mental health will be the making - or breaking - of me. I need the willpower and determination to succeed, to meet my goals. Small steps. Mini targets are the way to go, and we'll see how things progress. It's both an exciting time, and a worrying one, as I've failed so many times before.

Why do I need to lose weight? Simple really - because I'll need a 'normal' BMI if I want to go down the hysterectomy route once the menopause hits - otherwise I'll be living with an increased risk of ovarian/endometrial and cervical cancer, and be on tablets that will work against me losing weight and being active. So I kinda need to shrink, don't I?!

Anyway, it's time to leave for my next session - 4 to go! The end is in sight! # # #

Radiotherapy #5

Oh it was SO CLOSE to being the perfect session yesterday. Traffic was light. I was sat in the waiting area 5 minutes before my appointment time and called in 3 minutes before my appointment (first time ever). The female radiographer, who knows how to set me up, was ready to greet me – and after a few tweaks, they left the room and off the machines went. She came back in a couple of times to make more tweaks, and it seemed to be going well. Until …

… they returned to say they weren’t happy with the positioning of the boulder holder, and that I’d need to go and wait back out in the waiting area and they’d bring me back in to try again. Arrgghh. They then explained that I’m only allocated a 15 minute appointment slot, and the elderly lady next in line needed treatment with a full bladder and they couldn’t delay her (totally understood). So I went to sit just outside the scanning room – having been told that if they receptionist returns to tell them the radiographer told me to sit there.

Two minutes later the receptionist returned – wow. Have you an appointment? Who said you could sit here? You are meant to be in the main waiting area? When the daughter of the elderly lady turned up to sit down she was swiftly moved on to the main waiting room! Very protective of her mini waiting room! I didn’t move though 😊

When I was called back in, it finally went like clockwork. They were happier with the positioning, and the machine didn’t break down or have a hissy fit that it likes doing. The traffic home was light, and I was sitting on the sofa with a cuppa before the kids came in from school. Best day so far.

I wonder if today will be the first day that my appointment is on time, when I get zapped on the first attempt, and home before the kids. Today is the half-way point, and apart from a feeling of mild bruising at the zapping site, I’m doing fine 🙃

Radiotherapy #4

For a short time yesterday, while lying still on that machine, I pondered what I could write for today’s update. At that point everything was running like clockwork. Traffic was kind, I phoned to check in – ok, I was told that there were 4 patients in front of me so there would be a delay – but was then shocked to be called in ON TIME for my appointment. For the first time so far. Two gentlemen set up the machine, then lined me up on it, and then left the room while it did its thing. About 7-8 minutes later, when I thought they were arriving to say “all done”, I was actually told that they weren’t happy with the ‘margin of error’, and asked for me to go and wait back in the waiting area. So that’s what I did.

About half an hour later one of the team came to tell me to head off on a walk somewhere ‘as this will help’ … help with what? I didn’t flinch during that session – even got my breathing under control. It all seemed rather strange. I headed outside to check that my dad hadn’t melted in the heat. At 81 years of age he’s not daft … I found him chatting up a young lady, in the shade sitting on a bench (she too was accompanying someone to their radiotherapy sessions). Having updated him, I headed back to the waiting area as I didn’t want to be the cause of any delay.

About an hour and a half after my original appointment time one of the team came to get me … as we walked back to the scanning area I asked him what the problem was. He said it was because they needed a female to help line me up, strongly implying that being male they weren’t very good at dealing with female breast radiotherapy. Got to say that shocked me a bit – was expecting to be told the machine was misbehaving (which it does occasionally)! Anyway, when I reached the machine the lady who has overseen my treatment every previous day was there waiting for me … The wait wasn’t to ‘help me’, but to wait for her to arrive. It took her no time at all to position me correctly, and I was zapped again.

By the time I left the room, it felt like I’d had two sessions in one. To add insult to injury, we ran straight into the rush hour and an M1 closure, so didn’t get home until dinner time.

How am I feeling? Ok, so far. I feel a tiny bit of discomfort – like a bruise – deep under the skin where they are scanning. No visible redness – nothing really to report. My hip felt a little bit better yesterday, but the traffic and the on-off the foot pedals didn’t help. Hoping today will be easier. I tend to take an evening nap once I’m back, but otherwise, all is ok.

But for today’s session, I just hope that lady is there to assist, and that the wait isn’t too long. I’m hoping today will be uneventful!

Radiotherapy #3

Guess what? Yesterday’s session was running an hour late (again) ☹ I wouldn’t mind so much, but it’s the sitting in a boiling hot car that gets to me while I wait to be called in. And of course because I can’t predict the travel, I always factor in a cushion of time … basically I get there early, and have a long wait!

The discomfort I had after the first session has calmed down now. I did mention it to the medics, but they said the pain along the scar tissue wasn’t to do with the radiotherapy but the wound ‘healing’. I tried to tell them that my surgery was nearly 8 months ago, but it didn’t seem to register with them. Luckily, the pain has gone.

So let me talk you through a typical session of radiotherapy …

You strip off the top half of clothing. When you have a breast cancer diagnosis, stripping off in front of strangers becomes second nature – modesty quickly becomes a thing of the past! Some hospitals give you a gown to wear, my hospital gives you a square of paper that barely covers anything (I have bigger handkerchiefs)! Once they’ve set up the table to your specific measurements you climb up. There’s a metal ridge ‘seat’ where your bum goes … your knees go over a moulded triangular cushion … your head sits in a soft doughnut cushion, and your arms are above your head, held in place by angled arm cuffs. Over the next 10 mins or so two members of the team fit the boulder holder and when they are happy with its positioning, they basically strap me down with two Velcro straps. What follows is a lot of numbers being called out to check coordinates, with the occasional tweaking of my positioning. They then leave the room.

Because it is my right side being treated, I don’t have to hold my breath (this is done with left-side radiotherapy to protect your heart). This is just as well with me, because when I’m told to breathe normally, I can’t! I try to breathe calmly so as to minimise the rise and fall of my chest … oh forget it – they more I try, the more it looks like I’m gasping for air! Anyway, after a short delay the machine starts to move. There are two independently moving pieces of machinery that move over you from left to right. Twice on Monday and three times yesterday the machine stopped mid-move, and someone came running in apologising. They reset the machine and left the room again. On the third time yesterday I asked what the problem was (thinking it might be me moving, though I know I wasn’t) … I was told it was to stop the machine from crashing! I then had visions of two robot-like machines having a head-on collision inches above my body! In hindsight, maybe the crashing referred to the computer controlling it …?

After about 20 minutes, it’s all over. When the machine is zapping you can feel a slight warmth/tingling, but nothing ouch-worthy. I did notice yesterday, once I clambered off the table, that my skin was a little red … but that might have been caused by the heat that builds up under the Perspex boulder holder. Before I throw my clothes back on, I rub in some MooGoo cream. Then I head to the car, and head home.

I had a 20 minute power nap once I got home, but otherwise I felt ok last night. My hip and knee (car accelerator foot) has started to ache – too much sitting around in the same position in my car. Ibuprofen would help, but I can’t take it because I’m on blood thinners due to the PICC line clot. So I’m trying a cushion on the driver’s seat today to see if that helps.

Today’s appointment is at 1:10 … which means around 2:30 if the first two sessions are anything to go by!