By the book

What I am about to tell you is typical of the sorts of discussions that go on in radiotherapy waiting rooms all over the country when patients share details of their side-effects. So, if you are of a nervous disposition and prone to cry, "Too much information!", look away now.

It looks as though my treatment is going to be a 'textbook example'. I've been told on numerous occasions that once I have had two weeks' worth of radiotherapy, I will suffer side-effects including diarrhoea, cystitis, frequency and other delightful experiences, possibly even incontinence. Today was my tenth radiotherapy session; in other words, two weeks. I am delighted to report that my discussion with the nurse this morning about the consistency of diarrhoea was not wasted. I am also extremely pleased that I asked for a pre-emptive prescription 'just in case'. Fortunately, the medication does have the desired effect, though I hesitated to take it once I read the leaflet that detailed the possible contraindications!

Now, the side-effects I am enjoying are not necessarily the same side-effects experienced by patients whose radiotherapy does not involve the pelvic region. Radiotherapists are very helpful in explaining to you what you may expect; they also point out that everyone's experience is slightly different. In terms of diarrhoea, for example, this could take the form of something very mild to something that imitates irritable bowel syndrome; or you might have stomach cramps, you might not. It isn't predictable, though certain things are more likely than others. Again, it's really important to ask.

I sometimes think that I'm making a nuisance of myself by asking so many questions when I'm at the hospital, but, thanks to doing so, I feel confident that I know what might happen and, if it does, how to deal with it myself and when to call for professional help.

One of the strange things about having cancer is that there is a sense of great detachment - at least, that's what I've felt ever since my diagnosis. Perhaps it's how the human psyche copes with news of a potentially life-threatening illness. However, part of it, I think, is about power and control. This thing that attempts to take over your life - your tumour - wrests control from you; suddenly, decisions are made for you about surgery, treatment, recovery and so on. Asking questions is a way of regaining control. So, I'm going to go on asking those questions, and would advise anyone else embroiled in cancer treatment to ask for clarification and information from their medical team at every possible opportunity - information, after all, gives you a degree of power and control over the situation.

At least it's good to know that my symptoms are going by the book...