I am deeply grateful for the love, support and encouragement I have received since being diagnosed with bowel cancer following a colonoscopy, and my subsequent right hemicolectomy in April 2026.
Following my diagnosis of stage 3 bowel cancer, chemotherapy has now become part my treatment journey. I felt that creating this blog would be a way to keep family and friends updated, particularly as the impact of treatment can be unpredictable.
For now, I am focussing on following the guidance of my treating team and taking each day as it comes, with the aim of achieving the best possible outcome.
Ruth x
Treatment Plan
A Bard Power Port was inserted, which is connected to a flexible catheter threaded into a large central vein near the heart to facilitate the administration of chemotherapy. During the pre-procedure education session, I was shown a sample titanium port, which was purple in colour and heavier than I had anticipated. Following the procedure, I was discharged with two sutured incision sites.
My treatment plan consists of 12 treatment cycles. On Day 1 of each cycle, the chemotherapy is administered over approximately four hours at the clinic. I then return home with a portable pump, mine is a medium buoy, connected to my port, which continues delivering chemotherapy for the following 46 hours. On Day 3, I return to the clinic to have the pump disconnected.
Cycle 1 – Day 1
Walking through the clinic doors yesterday was both emotional and confronting. Roy and I were given a great deal of information to absorb, and there are now post-it notes to help me keep track of my daily care routines.
I will always be grateful for the thoughtful recommendation to ask if numbing cream could be used! Once the nurse removed my port sutures, the numbing cream we had brought was applied before treatment began. Applying it before we leave home will now become part of our routine.
The clinic bathrooms are thoughtfully designed to accommodate the “treatment tree” and I know navigating the moving of the tree will become easier over time. I was surprised by how suddenly some side effects appeared, particularly sensitivity to cold and headaches. I now need to ensure water is warm before washing my hands. Reactions are to be documented to develop strategies as treatment progresses.
My new collection of button-up shirts has also proved very practical, making access to the port and managing the port at home much easier.
I was reminded today that “One step at a time is okay” x
Cycle 1
Treatment Tree
Medium Buoy Pump
Home with bag pump
Cycle 1 – Day 3
Cycle 1 is officially done, and the pump has been disconnected — which meant I finally enjoyed the kind of luxurious shower you don’t truly appreciate until you’ve spent days juggling dressings and medical accessories. Yesterday, my nurse reassured me that the sudden wave of reactions to the chemotherapy wasn’t unusual at all; apparently colorectal chemo is notoriously brutal, which, oddly enough, was exactly what I needed to hear after feeling a little flat about it all – good this was not delivered initially so brutally. In the spirit of coping, I’ve also decided the new members of my medical entourage deserved proper names: Purple Polly Port, Beau Buoy Pump, and Fucktard Fox — otherwise known as chemo.
Purple Polly Port
Beau Buoy Pump
Cycle 2 – Day 1
I walked in for my second cycle wearing “The Big Hug Box” resilient cactus socks – a reminder that I can be strong and resilient, just like a desert cactus, with the love and support I feel around me. I was feeling nervous, knowing how debilitating the side-effects were during Cycle 1.
Today, the Pharmacist took the time to listen to my concerns and discuss the side effects I had been experiencing. He reinforced the importance of managing them proactively, and I’m hopeful that the additional medication will help keep the headaches and nausea at a more manageable and comfortable level. Fatigue – well, rest when I need to!
For now, my focus is on making sure Beau Buoy pump works correctly over the next couple of days, followed by plenty of rest and recovery to help prepare my body for Cycle 3.
Cycle 2 – Day 3
Pump off day!
“First Bite Syndrome” has officially made its debut and what an entrance it has made. It’s a form of acute nerve hypersensitivity that sends a sharp, shooting pain through my jaw with the very first bite of food, the first sip of a drink or even a breath of air. Considering my appetite has already been less than enthusiastic with the nausea, this feels cruel!
The peripheral neuropathy affecting the nerve endings in my hands and feet has also turned the cold weather into a worthy opponent. My fingers and toes are now incredibly sensitive to the cold, so it’s safe to say my collection of gloves and warm socks are greatly appreciated.
For now, the focus is on rest, recover, and giving my body every chance to bounce back so my bloods are where they need to be for Cycle 3. One day at a time with plenty of warmth, patience, determination and nurse Roy.
Cycle 3
The treating team certainly knows my name this week!
An urgent ultrasound was required to make sure chemotherapy could go ahead after some soreness around my port. I was very grateful to have this cycle administered in a bed rather than a chair, complete with an ensuite and my trusty bee socks!
Then it was back again urgently day 3 with complications. Thankfully, my port is still doing its job, and everything is working as it should. The only challenge is that my movements are now restricted above shoulder height. Today’s challenge called for my resilient cactus socks.
Managing these bumps in the road have been challenging combined with still learning how to best manage my side affects.
At this point, I think Nurse Roy needs a restful weekend and recovery just as much as the patient!
Cycle 4
Well, Cycle 4 is now completed, and I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that chemotherapy seems determined to keep me guessing.
Just when I think I’ve worked out a pattern to the side effects, it decides to change the rules again. The challenge is learning to adapt without letting it get the better of me – although some day’s that’s much easier said than done. I can eat the same thing on different days, yet one day I’m perfectly fine to leave the house for an appointment, and the next I’m barely able to leave the bathroom.
The first few days of each cycle are usually spent managing my sensitivity to cold – air, food and water, followed closely by the inevitable steroid crash. Then comes the next phase: fatigue, nausea, diarrhoea or constipation, along with a metallic taste in my mouth. After that, the focus shifts to recovery. My best days are usually the Monday and Tuesday before the next cycle begins – I treasure those days.
I’m still under strict instructions not to lift my left arm above my head, which means no hanging washing on the clothesline. Thankfully, the clothes’ drying rack has now become my new best friend. My oncologist delivered this advice with a perfectly straight face, “do not to judge Roy’s clothesline techniques!”
My skin remains very sensitive and continues to dry out. One unexpected discovery has been that silicone kitchen holders work remarkably well to get the milk from the fridge to make a cup of tea. It’s amazing how quickly everyday tasks can require creative problem-solving.
Hair loss continues to be one of the more visible reminders of the treatment to me. Some days it’s difficult to ignore the strands collecting onto my shoulders. Other days, I remind myself that less hair means less blow-drying, especially when you are attempting it one-handed.
The biggest positive from this cycle is that there were no urgent calls to the Care Coordinator and no unexpected appointments. After cycle 3, that feels like a genuine win!
Now the new challenge is improving my sleep and keeping a more accurate record of my side effects. While it may not be the most exciting task, the information helps my treating team understand what’s happening and adjust my treatment plan when needed. This information may also help another person who has the same journey. One step at a time, one cycle at a time!
Cycle 5
One more treatment cycle completed! I was fortunate to have an ensuite room again, and it’s amazing how much comfort that can bring.
Right now, I’m riding out the steroid crash and burn. Shortly, I’ll be back in recovery mode and celebrating the small wins.
If there’s one thing this journey keeps teaching me, it’s that even on the hardest days, there’s always something to be grateful for, an orchid flower that opens, a cup of tea, warm water, sunshine streaming onto the deck, even if it’s not allowed to touch my skin, my gorgeous new Hello Kitty socks from the Muttaburra Show, and the incredible love and support that continues to surround me and reminds me that I’m not walking this journey alone.
Cycle 6
Well, here we are – halfway through treatment!
My port has certainly earned quite the reputation. One member of the team now calls it “funky” while another insists it’s “spicy” – a reflection of the challenge it continues to present whenever it’s time to connect my treatment. While we can all laugh about it’s antics, the restrictions it brings are a little less amusing. I’m will be unable to lift my left arm above my shoulder until the port is removed after treatment, which is frustrating. Simple everyday tasks have become reminders that life isn’t quite normal.
As expected, the cumulative side effects are becoming more noticeable. The neuropathy lasts longer after each treatment, persistent fatigue has become a constant companion, and the gastrointestinal side effects are becoming more intense. I knew these challenges would build over time, but knowing something is coming doesn’t necessarily make living through it any easier.
My Oncologist continues to insist on documenting every side effect I experience. While it can sometimes feel repetitive, I know it helps ensure my treatment is managed as safely and effectively as possible. We’ve also made a small adjustment to my steroid regime, which has softened the infamous “crash and burn” after treatment. It is not a magic fix, but every little improvement counts.
My hair has started thinning, another visible reminder of the journey I’m on. Yes, there is less of it but at least it’s still there!
The cold air and I are definitely not friends, so I am grateful to watch the world from the warmth and comfort of home whilst I rest, recover and prepare for the next step in this journey.
This journey continues to teach me that progress isn’t always measured by how strong you feel each day. Sometimes it’s measured by simply putting one foot in front of the other, accepting help when it’s needed, finding humour in a “spicy” port, and celebrating the small victories along the way.
Halfway down, halfway to go!
Cycle 7
Cycle 7 proved to be a challenging one, with a delay caused by my blood test results. It’s becoming a reminder that, as the treatment cycles add up, the side effects compound, making the road a little more unpredictable and requiring a little more patience along the way.
Cycle 8
It’s been one hell of a cycle! My body appears to have decided it’s had enough and is now staging its own little rebellion. It’s not responding quite the way it should, so my team are working hard to ensure treatment can be administered safely.
The 3 days of chemo followed by 11 days recovery seemed like a good timeframe at first. Not anymore! Before I know it, it’s chemo day!
On the bright side, there is at least one small win. The warmer air makes it much easier for me to manage my bronchial spasms.
Another cycle down, another hurdle conquered and we keep moving forward!
Cycle 9
This cycle has been all about three activities, treatment, sleep and eat. Not exactly the most exciting itinerary, but right now, it’s the one my body seems to have chosen.
My diligent care provider has been incredibly patient with my complete lack of enthusiasm for food. He works tirelessly to make sure I get the nutrition I need and the butter menthols to manage my bronchial spasms.
I’m also taking a little inspiration from a bowel cancer survivor who suggested changing the countdown. Instead of focussing on how many cycles we’ve endured, I’m now counting down the ones I have left.
So here we go three, two and one!
Cycle 10
Cycle 11
Cycle 12
“Life takes you to unexpected places. Love brings you home.”
Ruth x