Big update

As some of you know, I decided to stop the treatment for my leukaemia.

On Wednesday evening last week, after two days of very strong chemotherapy, my body pleaded, "No more poison." As soon as I decided to listen to my body, I spent the night tussling with the implications of doing so, including having the courage to tell the medical staff. I did so the next day and, though they tried, gently and respectfully, to dissuade me, my mind was made up. My treatment stopped on the Thursday.

I am now in Ireland, at the home of my brother and sister-in-law, along with their children and my mum. I lack the words to describe how grateful I am to them for taking me in for my final days, let alone how kindly they are treating me.

I don't know how long it'll be before I die: nobody does. I ask each medical professional I meet, and the consensus appears to be weeks or months.

As I deteriorate, I might struggle to reply to all the messages I receive (though I try my best and believe I'm on top of them at the moment). I appreciate all the support and contact I've received: people are very kind.

I'll try to update this more frequently now I'm in Ireland, but no promises: I've found recently that life and death both laugh at plans.

The drugs didn't work

I almost didn't bother with this bit, but decided to do so nonetheless: apologies for the big gap before posting this update.

Thanks to my friend Gary for alerting me to the app for updating the blog. No promises, but I hope, using this, to provide more frequent, though probably shorter, updates.

Talking of updates: I'm very sorry to say that my first chemotherapy treatment was not a success, which means we have to start again.

I'm due to start my next chemotherapy treatment either later this week or early next week. It'll be seven solid days of chemotherapy, which, despite my desire (and everybody else's desire for me) to remain positive, I expect will knock the wind out of my sails and leave me becalmed.

After that, there'll be an approximately three-week recovery period, after which I'll know if the treatment has been successful. There is a fifty per cent chance, I'm told.

I'm doing my best to take things a day at a time, which is the best advice I received and came from a very wise nurse on my second day in hospital; I sometimes forget, of course, but it's advice that has helped me through thus far and will continue to do so, I hope.

Thanks for all the good wishes, the messages, the gifts, the phone calls and the visits. It has been a tough time, with further tough times ahead, but they'd be a lot tougher without my family and friends supporting me.

Finally, please bear in mind that, especially as I undergo treatment, I'll have good days and bad days, which means I might not reply to you straight away, or even for a few days. It doesn't mean I don't appreciate the support and love I receive: I do, very much, and hope one day to repay, though it's a huge and growing debt.