​Neutropenia – The Medical Explanation:

This is a condition where the number of white blood cells, also known as neutrophils, in the bloodstream are decreased. Neutropenia reduces the body’s ability to fight off infection. When a patient has a very low white blood cell count he or she is said to be neutropenic. Chemotherapy can cause neutropenia.
What does this mean for the patient? 
The patient must stay away from anyone with a cough or cold. Fresh flowers must be removed from the house. No raw foods such as salads or sushi can be consumed. 
The patient must report to the caregiver if his or her temperature goes over 38.0. Often neutropenia means that chemotherapy must be held for a week or so.

Neutropenia – Emma’s explanation. (Emma is not a doctor. Emma is merely a very pissed off patient): Neutropenia is a complete pain in the ass – end of. 

*Rant Alert*
I was beginning to deflate. I was coming down off the painkillers little by little. I was starting to feel as if I might actually reach a point where I’m not in pain as I get into my bed each night and as I tip myself out if it again the following morning. Every day for the first few minutes after waking I’m like a wooden dolly learning to walk. All my joints ache and my body screams at me to make the pain stop. 
But even that was beginning to abate! I was turning into a normal person once more!
In other words, the chemotherapy was working. The magic was happening once again – praise the Lord.
But then the devil decided to play a little game with my bone marrow. He took over and has been having a ball ever since…
Two weeks ago I couldn’t have chemotherapy because I needed a platelet transfusion. So two pools of platelets were sourced from the blood bank and I thank the selfless person who was wonderful enough to donate them. That was the platelet box ticked.
Last week my chemotherapy had to be held again because my haemoglobin was dangerously low, I needed two blood transfusions. So I spent the day being pumped with blood that had been donated, yet again by another very kind soul. 
I kept my spirits up by telling myself that this week couldn’t possibly be an issue. I’ve been in better fettle than I have been in years. I’ve been walking with mum and Herbie the dog, baking, writing and generally feeling an awful lot better. I was acting like a real person again!
This morning I was in the day unit nice and early because Cisplatin, the type of chemotherapy I’m on, requires me to have several litres of IV fluids prior to treatment. 
So I got two large bags of fluids, I don’t know how they affect other patients, but all that liquid makes me feel as if I’m a space hopper that is being filled and filled and filled and I might pop at any moment. The night after chemo, I usually pee for Ireland.
As I was almost finished the second bag of fluid this morning, the bomb was dropped in my little world. I was told I couldn’t have treatment again. This time I’m neutropenic!
It’s hard to describe just how disappointing it is to be told that the magic chemo juice that is working cannot be given. In ten years of being in Blackrock Clinic, today was the closest I came to throwing myself on the floor and sobbing. It’s such a let down. I guess there’s a certain amount of psychological build up to get through a chemo session. So to be told it can’t happen after all is just awful. It’s like that feeling as a child when you find out there’s a party and you weren’t invited. Or imagine finding out that Santa isn’t coming this year. I know that may sound really dramatic to non-oncology patients, but sadly there’s a group of people out there who might know what I mean. 
I visualise neutropenia as gangs of tiny green slimy monsters with sticky-out uneven teeth, with snatching gelatinous hands that grab my pristine little white cells and make snorting noises as they gobble them up. Bastards. 
So today I was sent home, yet again, to allow my blood to recover. 
There’s nothing I can actually do to aid recovery. Nothing I can eat or drink. 
The frustration is so hard to take. 
The sense of helplessness is infuriating. Also, I’ll have no idea until next week if I’m going to be allowed treatment then either. I can’t look in the mirror and say ‘ah yes, I have yellow and purple spots on my cheeks, so that means I’m neutropenic.’ The only way of telling is by taking bloods. 
This is all very whiny and moany. I apologise for being so negative, but it’s been one of those crappy days. 
I’ve been trying desperately to loose a bit of weight – yet again, that was happening while I was on the chemo – but today, in an action of utterly childish behaviour I ran into my house and ate a load of Toblerone. Hubby was away and brought one of the massive ones back, so I stuffed my face with it. 
Now I feel the chocolate guilts as well. 
Do you know what? I think I’ll go to the vet and be put down tomorrow. That might be a better plan…
Speaking of the vet – Tom the cat is doing great. He has little spells outside where he thoroughly enjoys his al fresco wee wee’s. But I’ve to careful that Herbie doesn’t see him. He gets so ridiculously excited that his old pal is outside with him that he almost mashes him into the grass. 
I’m delighted Halloween is over. It was like a war zone in Bray for the last few nights and the animals were terrified. There were some fabulous displays of sparkly colour bursting into the inky sky and I love those. 
Our two are too old for trick or treating which made me a bit sad for a few years. But I’m so over that now! All I want is for November to hurry up and pass by so I can start putting up Christmas trees. The first one up will be my new white one with the soldiers standing around it. I’ll take a picture of course. 
I’d say Santa is getting pretty hassled now. There’ll be a lot of packing of the sleigh, then taking it all out and starting again, while having a row with Mrs Clause and telling her he knows how to do it. A bit like packing the car for going to the airport on the family holiday but he has to pack for the whole world! I hope he doesn’t get caught for being over weight with his luggage…
I hope your week has turned out to be better than mine. I really hope that next week will be more positive and that the chemotherapy can get going again. Then I promise I’ll be less whingy. 
Have a great weekend, we’re nearly there. 
Love and light 

Emma 

Calling on all bargain hunters! 
I know Halloween has literally just passed and I hope you had fun, especially those with little people trick or treating. My two used to love dressing up and knocking on doors. 
BUT... I have news that I need to share. It'd be rude not to. 
My two novels in e-book format 'Driving Home for Christmas' and 'The Heart of Winter' are on promotion along with my little e-book short story 'The Wedding Weekend' for only 99p! 
Here's the link if you'd like to snap them up. 
If you're a Christmas fan like I am, I promise they'll have you in a Christmassy fuzzy mood. They're the only two books of mine that feature the same family. While it's not necessary to read both, this is the perfect opportunity to sit back and indulge yourself. 
I'm not going to rabbit on about Christmas just yet, but this day next month there'll be no stopping me! The first (of many) Christmas trees will go up. I'll be starting with my brand new white one... I'm SO excited about it. It was a bargain through a friend... A lot of my shopping is done, I know I'm very annoying. But I can't lump all the expense into one month and besides I love nothing mrs than picking up little bits and pieces for stocking fillers as I see them. That way there's less pressure both on the nerves and financially when it's spread out. Ok, I'm doing what I said I wouldn't - going on about Christmas. I apologise (I'm not that sorry though!!). For now, I hope you enjoy this bargain bundle!
Love, light and a teeny-tiny bit of pre-Christmas fairy dust,
Emma xx​

https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/the-winter-collection/id1290056238?mt=11

​Hello peeps!

Happy bank holiday weekend to my Irish friends! So far the weather is gorgeous in Bray. Mum, Herbie and I had a beautiful walk this morning. The trees are stunning with the array of colour bursting through the changing leaves. It really is worth going somewhere with a wooded walk. We went to Powerscourt in Enniskerry (pictured below) and it was incredible. I reckon that even the most cranky person would come away from a walk up there with a smile on their face. 
I’m feeling really good, better every day and I’m trying to rebuild my strength and help my body to deflate, I’m still not loving the blown up version of Emma. I’m taking each day as it comes. But I would love to go back to the way I was – the way I’ve always been. I don’t have the energy to go mad so it’ll be a slow but steady progress. I’m learning to be patient with my body. I’m not great at it. I want to wake up tomorrow and be the size I was and look in the mirror and see the face I was used to rather than the puffy person I’ve become. I know it might sound like I’m meowing about a silly thing but I’ve looked similar all my life. I’ve been the same dress size and although there are wrinkles showing, I can cope with that. In fact it doesn’t bother me. But this bloated tummy and face thing is awful. My face being so puffy is an obvious sign that I’m sick. Before I could disguise it most of the time with a wig or makeup. But there’s no getting away from this. So the sooner I deflate and go back to looking the way I always did, the better. I’m sure others who have been through cancer treatments can understand where I’m coming from.   
I went to hospital on Thursday, as usual, for the next bag of chemotherapy. A part of me was bracing myself because I tend to be sick that night and the following day, but it’s doing what I need and killing the cancer. It’s also helping with the deflating thing. But frustratingly I wasn’t allowed to have it again. This is the second week in a row that I wasn’t able to have it. I cannot tell you how peeved I was. It’s ridiculous of me to be so upset because my doctor explained that I’d end up in hospital if he went ahead and treated me. My bloods are just too low. So I ended up with two blood transfusions instead. As always, I don’t apologise for going on about the generosity of blood doners, so thank you, thank you a million times thank you for your selfless act so I can get better. 
When I hear I can’t get the cancer killing chemotherapy I instantly want to lie on the floor and bawl like a toddler. But then the moment passes and panic takes over so I go from being cross to being terrified… What if I can never have it again and the cancer spreads like a weed all through my body by next week? Then rationale kicks in and I simply have to accept it.
The thought of ending up in hospital isn’t a great one, especially because my kids are on half term next week and hubby is away. But as most people who are undergoing treatment will agree, there’s a psychological build up each time chemo day looms. While I know it’s going to make me feel rotten for a couple of days, it’s killing the bastard cancer, so yay for the chemo! Fingers crossed my bloods will recover and I’ll be able to have it next week. See! That sounds rational and grown up doesn’t it? Between you and I, if I can’t have it again I think I might have to resort to the tantrum on the floor option. 
Hubby has gone to do an ironman – if you’re not familiar with this, it’s a form of torture where humans willingly swim 3.8 kilometres then go straight onto a bike for approx 180 kilometres followed by a full marathon of 42 kilometres. Not only is there no break in between but the transition (triathlon speak for changing from one discipline to another) could mean the difference between winning or loosing a placing. So transition needs to be done with precision and speed. Even thinking about it makes me feel queasy and exhausted. But he’s gone off with his bike and more Lycra than you could shake a stick at, delighted that his training will be put to the test. I hope he does well and I wish him the very best but the whole concept it beyond me. Opposites attract!
    As it’s a bank holiday weekend here in Ireland I plan on doing doggy walking, attempting to follow where teenager #1 and teenager #2 are, who they’re with and what time they’ll be home. Being a parent to a teenager isn’t easy is it? I want them to have fun and they aren’t doing anything I didn’t do. But that doesn’t stop it all being scary as hell. I have a very over active imagination and I lay in bed thinking all sorts of scenarios and none of them are good. The relief that floods over me when they are both home and the doors are locked and the alarm is set… 
Tom the cat is doing brilliantly as he recovers from his surgery. His little furry trousers are growing back very well. His limp is improving and he’s a little trooper. Herbie the dog is in my bad books however. He ate the corners off four of my cushions and my daughter had a few friends over the other evening and he did rude things to a larger cushion. We had a stern conversation about it all but I’ve got a sneaking suspicion he doesn’t care that much. I was on my hunkers while we chatted – I used the method that is supposed to work with toddlers and got down to his level. But he kept trying to lick my face and moments later he was back in the living room humping a cushion again. We love Herbie dearly but as I’ve told you before, he’ll never be in doggy Mensa. So in retrospect I needn’t have bothered having the chat. 
    I got the most gorgeous clothes from a reader called Gaby. We’ve never met and she offered me some of the range of the clothes she sells. She was incredibly generous and as I opened the parcel more and more items came out. The range is called www.captaintortuegroup.com 
It’s mostly day dresses and tunics with matching scarves but my hands-down favourite piece is a silver puffa jacket. It’s not the colour of tin foil, we all want to avoid the turkey in the oven look. Instead it’s a soft matt colour that goes with everything. It’s as light as a feather and yet it keeps me warm. I don’t know how to thank Gaby for her kindness but maybe some of you might check out her website and buy one of each thing so I feel better about taking so many things for free. I offered to pay and she wasn’t having any of that idea. So if you’d go and spend a few grand each I’d be very much obliged. 
If that wasn’t enough my friend Kathryne sent me a Max-Benjamin candle and it’s divine. So delicious that I’d be tempted to drink the wax. But that would cause untold problems and I think I’ve enough going on without having to be rushed to A&E with a burn oesophagus, so I’ve decided against the drinking and will go with enjoying smelling it instead. The aroma is “Elysium” and it comes in a deep pink coloured box with gold trim – what’s not to love? 
From now until Thursday, I will be speaking to my blood and warning it that it had better behave. I need that chemotherapy to get rid of the cancer. It’s been going on too long at this stage and Christmas is around the corner. I know we’re not meant to mention the C word but I can’t help it. I just adore Christmas and the most fabulous thing happened this week. I got a white Christmas tree! I’ve wanted one for years but they’re so expensive. A friend happened to be selling one and I snapped it up! It’ll go in the hallway and will match perfectly with the soldiers that fell into my car last week. I can totally blame the teenagers for the soldiers. They were far too beautiful to leave behind. They’re red and blue and gold and the white tree has blue lights and red decorations. I know! It would’ve been rude to leave it behind. I knew you’d agree! So as soon as Halloween is over I will begin rustling in bags getting things ready for December 1st when the tree erecting will begin. I can’t wait. The whole house will sparkle and twinkle and we’ll go around with flecks of glitter on our faces and clothing for a month – fab-u-lous!! 
    So there’s another reason to get better and have the chemotherapy and get stronger. I’ll need energy to put up seven trees. Hubby is a ba-humbug-er so he’s no help. In fact he would try and shove a tree into his jeep and dump it in a skip. So all the decorating needs to be done quickly.
    I’ve plenty of time but I have to say the arrival of the white tree has made me want to pretend it’s December. But I’m afraid I’d end up divorced if he returned from his Ironman to find the house transformed into a winter wonderland. 
Have a great weekend one and all! Chat to you soon, 
Love and light 

Emma xxx  

​Hi there, I hope everyone is ok after storm Ophelia? We got away very lightly in Bray. It was no worse than a normal wintery day. Brian is on the way and apparently he's bringing lots of wind and rain with him, which isn't so great. 
Yesterday was meant to be chemotherapy day but my bloods let me down. I had almost no platelets so my treatment had to be held until next week. 
So I'm back in this morning to have two pools (med speak for bags of) platelets. They look like a slightly thick yellowish coloured liquid (between us it looks like a bag of thick urine). They're normally incorporated in the blood and they help the blood to clot. So if you get a cut your platelets will rush to the wound and help the blood to clot and stop the bleeding. Without them I'd be in danger of bleeding a lot if I got a cut and it also means I'm ultra prone to bruising. The nurses were telling me that donating platelets is much more painful than normal blood and a very large needle is required, ouch. So I am doubly grateful to the doner. Apparently there's a shortage of blood products because nobody could donate on Monday due to storm Ophelia. It never occurred to me that the storm could affect so many things... 
So I should be done and dusted soon and I'll trot off on my merry way, grateful that I have been saved by the generosity of a stranger once again. Thank you, who ever you are.
Meanwhile I have a weekend of nothingness planned! Maybe some baking, writing in front of the fire and taking the dog for walks. How rock 'n' roll am I? Seriously are you jealous of my glam life? All I'm missing is the purple rinse, hair rollers and tartan slippers. 
My energy is improving each day - so you don't think I'm loosing the run of myself - I've gone from being in bed most of the time to being out of it most of the time. I won't be climbing Everest any time soon. But I'm back to wearing clothes again. Not just pyjamas! The excitement of it all! It's a relief also because now all the clothes I've been buying on line can have an outing. If the truth be told (but not to my husband of course, to him, everything is "that old thing") I probably have enough clothes to keep me going for the next decade. But I still can't find anything to wear each day. Is it just me? How can there be so many purchases and yet there's not a stitch to wear? 
I'm blaming the confusion on the season change. In the mornings it's freezing, by the afternoon I could almost sunbathe some days and then by early evening it's suddenly back to being baltic again. At this point I'd be delighted if the weather would make up it's mind and just be cold so we can wear our winter clothes without having two hours of tropical moments. It's a bit like giving the entire country menopausal symptoms isn't it? 
Poor little Tom the cat is still being held hostage inside the house. He's a great boy for using the litter tray for number twos. But he is refusing point blank to pee in the tray. Instead he cries pitifully and looks at me as if I'm a murderer when I don't let him out. Then he finds a nice bit of skirting board and gives it a good spray. So I am now like the lone ranger going around the house with my spray gun of disinfectant. In spite of those valiant efforts I returned home yesterday and the house smelled like a cross between a badly attended public toilet and a zoo. Not so nice. So the hunt began as I scanned the house for little yellow puddles and cleaned like a woman possessed. Then I lit enough scented candles to light the entire neighbourhood should the electricity fail. 
I'm hoping Tom will be allowed outside next week and then we can be friends again. His little furry trousers are growing back slowly and he's looking less skinny and traumatised.
Herbie the dog is up to his eyes busy meanwhile. We have an old pear tree in the garden and each day a tonne of pears drop to the ground. Herbie clearly feels it's his civic duty to capture said pears and round them up and bring them into the house. So as well as the yellow puddles I am constantly picking up semi-chewed pears. I can only put them in the bin when Herbie's not looking or else he sits at the bin and barks. Seriously, only I could have a dog with his own pet pears who protests if I so much as touch them. 
I have started my Christmas shopping in ernest. I know, I know. It's not even Halloween yet, but Christmas is a fabulous excuse to buy things and because they're for other people, there's no guilt attached. I'm always organised well before Christmas because I'd be a nervous wreck if I had to leave it all to the last minute. Also, once it's spread out, the idea is that I'll be less broke. But I am one of the people in this world who will always spend what I can. Don't get me wrong, the bills come first but what ever is left over will be gone, gone, gone! Life isn't a dress rehearsal so what's the point in being miserable? I'm all for being kind to ourselves and others. Little gifts make people happy and they know you're thinking of them. So really, when I'm shopping I'm being charitable. Do you like how I did that? I have many excuses for my shopping addiction and I even believe myself at this stage!
Have a lovely weekend folks. I hope storm Brian doesn't cause too much damage for us Irish people. Where ever you are, if you need a little yellow puddle or a semi-chewed pear, I can help you out. 
I'm finished my platelet transfusion, so thanks for keeping me company. Chat to you soon!
Love and light
Emma xxx

​Greetings from my chemotherapy chair!

So when they were saying “who wants a blood transfusion?” or “who wants an infection? It’s free?” I didn’t put my hand up. I didn’t want to be greedy. I mean, I’m already having a huge bag of fluids and some chemotherapy. 
But my little vials of blood told tales on me. My platelets are stupidly low and I’ve got yet another UTI. Hurray!! Oh no, sorry. It’s not fabulous, it’s stamp my foot and fling myself on the floor and shout time (in my imagination while also cursing on the inside!) 
Then I dropped down to the audiology department to have my hearing checked out. I’ve been noticing that certain highly pitched noises aren’t getting to me the way they should. So the microwave beeping or the reverse-beeper in my car are barely audible. Also, we went out for a quick bite to eat last night and I found the music unbearably loud. Hubby and 17 year-old assured me that it wasn’t that loud at all. So after a few quick tests, Nuala adjusted my hearing aids with her mega-fabulous computer and instantly sounds are much clearer once more.  I’m so glad I went to see her. For anyone reading this who has hearing difficulty, I cannot recommend having your hearing tested enough. 
My hearing aids are tiny, nobody knows they’re there and it changes the entire world for me. So if you find yourself asking people to repeat themselves or have the TV at a level where you’re nearly smashing the windows, simple hearing aids might be the answer. They’re not huge and bulky or obvious like they used to be, so don’t hesitate and go! I’m bias because I go to them, but I cannot recommend the ladies at the audiology department in Blackrock Clinic enough. The hearing aid I got was the same price as the one offered in high street stores, but I prefer the idea of going somewhere more private, so I love this purpose built space. It’s quiet and you don’t have to walk out into a shopping centre or busy street. Ms Aoife Walsh or Nuala will look after you wonderfully. Call 1800 300 200 for enquiries if you’re interested. By the way, I’m not being paid to recommend them, I’m simply giving their details in case hearing loss strikes a chord with you and you’d like help. Obviously this is only of use to people who live in the area too! But I couldn’t go around asking people to repeat themselves all the time nor could I cope with not being able to follow conversations… Hearing loss is seriously isolating and in many cases it’s unnecessary. So find your local Aoife and Nuala and I promise you won’t look back. It takes a couple of weeks to adjust to the aids, but after that it’s plain sailing all the way. 
So my chemotherapy is dripping away as I type and then I’ll have my blood transfusion. 
I know I’m going to get really emotional when the transfusion happens. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I’m not an emotional person per se. I’m not a crier and it takes a lot for a situation to really get to me. But being a blood recipient is a really strange one. 
I know I’ve ranted about this before but I don’t apologise for doing it again, so please bear with me! It’s just this; I cannot get my head around the fact that I’m about to receive a stranger’s blood purely because they walked into a donation centre and gave it to someone like me… It’s kind of mind blowing to me. I know I’m not explaining myself very well, but the notion that someone was so kind and generous and selflessly gave part of themselves to help sick or injured strangers, blows me away. I wish there was a name and phone number of the donor on each bag of blood. I would love to ring that person and thank them profusely. I’d ask for their address so I could send them flowers, chocolates, a bottle of wine, a dinner in a lovely restaurant… What I wouldn’t do… 
But instead, all I can say is THANK YOU to every person who donates. Dear person whose blood I am about to receive, I hope you realise that I appreciate you and think you are extraordinary. I think you are awesome. I think you have an incredible social conscience and I honestly believe that Karma will work it’s magic for you. Your parents should be very proud of you. I hope great and wonderful things come to you and make your life a bit brighter. You deserve that. Okay, rant over!
Today’s good news story is that Tom the cat is coming home today! After having a few sleepovers at Bray Vet under the wonderful care of Andrew and his team, he has recovered well. Oh I can’t wait to see him! I’ve missed his furry snuggles and his little smudgy grey face. There’s nothing quite as lovely as a warm little cat purring on my lap. Herbie the dog has missed him too. When I ask him where Tom is, he cries and looks around! Really! It’s quite extraordinary. So the two furries will be reunited too. That’s something to look forward to when I get home this evening. 
The chemotherapy is causing the infections and dips in my blood, so it might be a plan that I’ll skip it next week to give my body a chance to recover and then go again. But that’s for next week’s excitement and up to my oncologist and his team. 
For now, I’ll do a bit more writing. If I get a bit woozy which can tend to happen, I’ll watch The Gilmore Girls on my laptop with my headphones. I stress the ‘with my headphones’ part as some people don’t get the plot that they should use them and subject the entire room to what ever they’re watching or listening to… 
I’ll keep on trucking here. I hope, hope, hope I’m kicking the cancer’s ass. I feel as if I am. I’m deflating and I’m beginning to feel more like me. So onwards and upwards everybody!
I hope your day is going well. I hope you’re feeling good and that your little people, big people and furries are all well. 
Until next time, mind how you go. Do something nice for yourself today, not for any particular reason, just because you know you’re worth it. 

Love and light 

Emma  

​Hi there

I hope you’re all settling into autumn nicely? 
I’m keeping going here. Nothing much has changed apart from my treatment – again. 
The bastard cancer was quite happy with the pump and the little bottle of constant chemotherapy I was using before. It didn’t bother the cancer what so ever. In fact it was cohabitating with it nicely as if they were flat mates. 
Then my port decided to sink into my chest. This was a huge issue as my chemotherapy needed to be connected to the port so it could travel into my bloodstream.
Once upon a time I had a very lean and thin collarbone and upper chest area. You could see the shape of my port under my skin from across a room. It looked like a large coin with a thin tube coming out of it.
But lately it was like a small landmine soaking slowly into a marsh. The lymphedema was creating this soggy and squishy surroundings that were slowly swallowing the port. Not only was it uncomfortable to have a small disk burrowing it’s way into my body but it made it impossible for the nurses to access it. 
Instead of it being an easier option to rooting for a vein in my arm, it became a horrible fight each week. 
Poor Vincy, one of my long-term oncology nurses who has cared for me for years and years, was praying that she’d be able to access the port the night before I went in! To know that one of my carers was on her knees the night before I presented at the hospital upset me so much. This poor lady has enough to think about without having me and my dodgy port added to her list.  
For my part, it meant two or sometimes three attempts to jab a very long and wide needle into my doughy and aching chest in the hope of hitting the right spot. Seeing as the pump needed to be there 24/7 my skin and the surrounding area wasn’t getting so much as a five minute break either. 
So two decisions were taken. Firstly the port had to come out and a new one needed to go in on the other side of my chest. 
Secondly, the treatment needed to be changed - again. 
As I was growing and expanding each week, literally like Agustus Gloop from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – except I wasn’t getting to drink a chocolate river - the tumours weren’t shrinking either. To add insult to injury the large one on the side of my neck turned into a nasty affair. The skin has broken and in turn it has become infected.  It’s utterly gross and apart from bleeding, which it likes to do, it also sends out little bit of slime type stuff. It’s itchy and gooey and has nothing what so ever to offer humanity. My apologies, it’s probably too much information, but I’m telling you in case you too have a vile creature and think you’re alone in your grossness. We can be yuck buddies, which sounds like something rude, but in this case it’s not!
So, two weeks ago, when the port finally sank to a new depth and defied even Vincy’s prayers St David made a decision. I was to go back on cisplatin (this is the nasty creature who jumped into my ears and killed the tiny hairs, leaving me in need of hearing aids on both ears.)
The bottle and bag were binned and I had a cannula put into my hand and off I went on the next round of chemotherapy. Just like that. Round one was administered before I could even blink. 
My veins weren’t going to stand up to much for any length of time so I needed a new port sooner rather than later on the left side of my chest. The left side isn’t riddled with lymphedema so it’s a lot thinner and it’s much easier to work with. 
Whipping one port out and shoving another one in, isn’t quite as simple as it might sound. So I asked to be sedated. I’ve experienced an insertion before and once was enough, thank you very much. 
I went in early on the morning of the ports. I was delighted with the thought of going for a lovely sleep and waking up with a brand new, easy to access port. 
But it’s me we’re talking about here. So nothing went to plan. Much as they tried, the theatre team couldn’t get me to sleep. So I was wide awake during the procedure. Not even remotely drowsy but alert enough to have been able to write if they’d given me my laptop. Sticking with reality here, I know it wasn’t exactly a lung and heart transplant, but it was pretty unpleasant and I felt every dig, shove, pull and tuck. God I’d forgotten how nasty local anaesthetic can be too. Stingy as a bucket of nettles mixed with a swarm of wasps… 
Hubby collected me at lunch time – I had to stay there for a while because I’d had sedation. Even though I was awake, had been awake and remained awake, I was officially and on paper - sedated. I know I have to follow the rules and otherwise it mightn’t be safe. I’m just a cranky cow and I always want to run home as quickly as possible. 
The next couple of days weren’t my favourite of all time, but they weren’t too bad either. My poor body tried to grasp what was happening with new chemotherapy being pumped in along with a bit of chopping and changing. 
I couldn’t remember the pattern of cisplatin from the last time. Usually I know what way my body plans on reacting but I’d forgotten so I lay low and waited. Nothing too dreadful happened and I’m headed for my third bag tomorrow. 
Last week, just to keep me on my toes, something else happened. Tom the cat was in terrible state, yowling in the garden as Herbie barked and cried, as if to show me where to find him.
His back leg was in a very odd position and I feared the worst. I thought he’d either had a stroke or he’d been hit by a car. With no blood and no marks on him, I assumed he was on the way out. I rushed him to Pete the vet in Bray. A short while later, Pete the Vet was able to confirm that he’d torn his cruciate ligament in his knee. It’s rare in cats but he could get another vet to do the job. The following Tuesday, Andrew operated on Tom and now he’s to be kept in for six weeks. Six weeks! How on earth can we do that? 
Needless to say, he’s been making previously unheard of noises while flinging himself at windows and doors in an attempt to escape. Don’t tell Pete the Vet or Andrew, but we’ve been letting him out into the garden for supervised wee sessions.
He’s improving every day and he’s extremely happy to snuggle on beds most of the time. He’s an old man now and he looks very odd. Where he was shaved for his surgery makes it look as if someone stole his furry trousers. I hope he’ll continue to make positive progress.  I'm not posting a photo of him without his trousers, he didn't want that. I have to preserve his dignity. Poor Tom, we’ll fight on together, puss.
I am so much better than I was. I am beginning to shrink thank God.  I can feel my old self coming to the fore once more.
Things are good today. That’s all I can tell you. I was able to go out with my mum for a couple of hours this morning. I haven’t done that for weeks. I’m wrecked now and I’ve had to have a sleep, but it was nice to get out. Wow, my life is so rock ‘n’ roll right? 
I’m writing away, picking away at it each and every day. But my levels of concentration are extremely limited. In fact, limited is the word I would use to describe my life right now. 
But what can I do? I’ve no choice but to go with what’s been thrown at me. I need to embrace the good days and deal with the not so good ones. 
I’m beyond bored with being sick by now. I hope the good days will start to out weigh the bad days soon. 
Halloween is around the corner followed closely by Christmas! Yes, I’m using the C word! Bring it on! 
Enjoy the leaves falling and the cosy evenings beside the fire. I’m loving the new winter clothing and I can’t wait to go shopping. 
I’m still managing to do a little bit on line – the day I can’t shop at all is the day I know there’s something really, really wrong! 
The updated version of my book is also out if you'd like a laugh. Most people who read it, especially fellow cancer vixens tell me that there are parts that they relate to so well. So if you'd like to read a story that shines with hope (*spoiler alert* but there's a happy ending!) maybe you'll pick up a copy.
One day at a time my friends. 
I hope life is good for you, take good care!

Love and light 

Emma 

​Hello again!
It's been another week of struggling. I won't bore you with the details. Suffice it to say cancer is still not my friend. It never will be and I hate it more than the most awful thing ever invented. 
But I have discovered something... It may be apparent to the entire world and I'm only realising it now - but... I got my disgustingly ugly sleeve and glove (shamefully pictured below - aren't they dreadful? Seriously?). 
So, they compress my equally ugly lymphedema-riddled hand and arm. That, in turn enable my therapist to do MLD in the hope that this swelling and blockage will kindly move along. I've been told about a very cool website called www.lymphedivas.com where you can buy compression gear that aren't so vile looking that you want to fling yourself on the floor and have a full blown tantrum. I love their stuff but I am not planning on wearing compression gear for long, so I'm holding out on buying anything for now. Obviously if the swelling persists I will be using my credit card until it smokes.
BUT are you ready for my tip? 
I put my sleeve and ugly paw yoke on after my shower each morning. At that time my skin tends to be warm and tacky from the water. So I lash a load of baby powder on my hand and arm and the glove and sleeve go on a million times easier. 
This could be a fact that sleeve wearers have know for generations. Maybe the lymphedema crew of the universe are all sighing and rolling their eyes in boredom saying "tell us something we didn't know Hannigan."
If that's the case, I will retreat to my corner and sit quietly in shame. But if you are a sleeve and glove wearer and nobody told you this information - try it. Go on! It's brilliant and cuts the yanking and stretching and sweating and swearing time in half. Now the sniggering people with the dirty minds can all sit at the back of the class. For everyone else, I hope my little tip is helpful. 
I'm in the midst of the final, final, final edit on the next novel. It's called 'Letters to my Daughters' and I can't wait to share it with you. But for now, I hope you find my tip helpful. For everyone else, as in the gorgeous non-swollen to elephant status folks, I can highly recommend coffee and chocolate. It's an old but firm favourite and they make a marvellous combination. 
May all the lymphedema in the world bog off and leave us alone. Nobody likes you - take the hint.
Love and light
Emma x

​Hello folks!

It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything. I simply felt it was as if my life was a pretty bland and depressing version of a hamster on a wheel. You know the image? A small cute furry animal who has to run, run, run on his little wheel at the side of his cage? That’s most of us in every day life isn’t it? We wake up and hop onto our wheel and run all day long.
Well, I wasn’t even a proper hamster on a wheel. 
I was a bald mangy one-eyed hamster with a massively swollen paw, clambering clumsily on my wheel. 
I’ve had one infection after another. Literally, I finish an antibiotic and along comes something else to hammer me again. 
Several other grossly unattractive things have come to light. Cancer is NOT glamorous ladies and gentlemen. So… when a gal takes loads of steroids, it’s not unusual (cue Tom Jones) to grow white soft downy fuzz all over one’s face. 
So it’s not a blow in the breeze type of hair (at least mine wasn’t) but it’s certainly hurtling swiftly towards whiskers. Very cute on a kitten but not so nice on a 44 year old woman who already needs all the help she can get. 
So thank goodness for my beautician training. I knew that money and those hours at night school would make sense one day. Out came the waxing pot and within minutes, the fur was gone! Oh the joy of it!
But if you are suffering with “whisker-itus” and you’re not a trained beauty therapist, don’t be afraid to pop along to a salon and have it removed. I know there are home waxing kits available and there are those strips for doing legs – please what ever you do, don’t use those. The skin on our face is really sensitive and it requires a different wax to legs. So ask a professional to do it. It only takes minutes. Alternatively, perhaps you’re aiming to look like your pet in which case, you can hold on to your fur and it can be embraced!
The next thing that is truly unattractive and I have it too, is lymphedema. This is when lymph, that normally trots about the body very happily, in a similar way to blood, meets a stop sign. So instead of flowing nicely it stops and there’s a massive build up with loads of tiny green men blowing you up like a balloon. Okay the last bit is a lie. There are no green men. 
But there is a blockage. This is common after surgery or in my case during cancer treatment. It manifests itself as a puffy hand or arm or leg or indeed any part of the body that usually has lymph flowing through it. Suffice it to say that the chosen body part looks like a large pile of uncooked pizza dough. I’ll take a photo of mine and show you below.
Then… the uncooked dough makes your body part all swollen. It can be mottled with red colouring or even bruised looking. The feeling is tight, really heavy and can be quite sore to the touch. None of my rings or bracelet’s fit and it’s important to remove them if you notice this happening. Otherwise the ring may need to be cut off.
My right arm, which now resembles an elephant’s trunk it’s so huge, doesn’t fit into most of my clothes. So I’m in tracksuits and stretchy soft clothes.  I’m obviously not delighted with this, but it’ll pass. There are a number of things that we can do while in this situation, however.
The first thing – if it’s in your arm – is to be fitted for a sleeve.  I’ve just been fitted for one. This is a tight bandage style thing that has a glove also. I’m getting a separate sleeve and glove to maximise the compression on my hands. The idea is to compress the area, thus helping to take the pressure off. You need to find either a lymedema clinic or in my case, my pharmacist, Regina at Cunningham’s Pharmacy in Bray is trained to fit them. It simply means you’re measured to get the right fit. So my paw (it used to be a hand) was measured, the squidgy bit that used to be a wrist was measured and several areas of my arm. Each finger was also measured for the glove. They’re on order and I’ll have them soon. 
The second thing you can do is go for MLD. Manual Lymphatic Drainage.  This is a very gentle massage that basically ‘unblocks’ the lymph and allows it to move around the body once more. My entire body could do with lymphatic drainage, but the worst parts are my arm and my face. If you’ve seen me on TV you’ll have noticed my face is like an inflated chipmunk. That’s lymphedema doing it’s thing. So I had MLD for that. I go to Physiofit Woman in the Beacon South Quarter in Dublin with Deborah. The relief when Deborah was working on my face is hard to describe. It was as if I were a balloon and she was letting some of the air out slowly and gently… I felt great afterwards and then exhausted and I slept so well last night! 
Okay enough depressing stuff. Lots of positive things have happened. My updated memoir All To Live For has hit the bestsellers list. So has the paperback of The Wedding Promise. Thank you to every person who has bought and read my books. I’ve had so many lovely letters from kind and gracious readers. I honestly have the best people in the world alongside me. 
Anyway, I hope you’re all well? To those of you who are on this cancer journey with me, I hope you don’t have elephant’s trunk arm. If you do, just limp along with me. We’ll keep going together. 
Things aren’t looking that aesthetically wonderful just at the minute. But I’ve been here before. Not quite as swollen, I’ll admit. But I’ve done this in a very similar guise before. 
It gets better. The feeling as if you’re someone else or even feeling like a small woodland creature (chipmunk) or a large African mammal (elephant) all passes. It gets better.  Some day soon, you’ll look in the mirror and see an image that reminds you of someone you used to know – yourself!
I’m looking forward to that day happening soon.
Meanwhile, I’ll do what I have to do. I’ll keep having the chemotherapy and I’ll have my lymphatic drainage and I’ll wear my glove and sleeve and drink my water and go for walks. Most of all, I’ll keep writing! I hope you’re doing well and I appreciate the support you all give me. 

Love and light to you all!


Emma 

Hi folks!
What a week it's been! (Now I sound like #AlanCarr except I'm not as funny!) 
I was on #Elaine with my lovely friend and the panel of fab ladies on TV3 on Tuesday. 
Then on Wednesday my oncologist agreed to allow me have the chemotherapy pump removed for a couple of days so I could fly to London. There, I had the massive honour of being on #Lorraine on #ITV 
I cannot tell you how excited I was. 
It was my first big slot on UK TV and a massive opportunity for me. As it turned out Lorraine wasn't there as she's on holiday, but #ChristineLampard was sitting in. 
It was so interesting to see ITV and how they do things. All the walls are covered with photos of their stars from #PhilipSchofield and #HollyWilloughby to #AntandDec 
I had a quick chat with the producer and #DrHilaryJones as he was coming on the show with me. Then it was air time! 
I loved every minute and it seemed to go by in a flash. I hope UK viewers enjoyed it. 
Lots of people messaged me via my website (www.emmahannigan.com) afterwards to say it helped them. So I'm delighted they know that it's possible to live with and through cancer.
AND 'All To Live For' shot up on Amazon to number 1! Very exciting and thank you to everyone who bought it!
Unfortunately all the excitement meant I've ended up in hospital with exhaustion and a chest infection and feeling pretty rough (and that's putting it mildly). My vitals weren't good and I was officially in bad shape. There's a list that runs from 1 - 10. 1 being mild 10 being an ICU job. I was at 10.
But you might've guessed that I don't believe in doing things by half measures. So I went all out with a temperature of 40.6/105, delirious, unable to walk, sweating buckets, hallucinating & talking gibberish (nothing new there really). 
My poor hubby had to think fast and luckily he did and got me to hospital immediately  or things might have been very different.
 As usual the amazing team I have minding me are nursing me back to health. It's my body's way of telling me loudly that I am not ready to tear about. That I need to stay put and let this chemotherapy do it's job. That I need to be patient for a while longer.
So my message to my body: I hear you - loud & clear! Please don't frighten me like this again. 
​I'm going to behave. I'll sit and write and do small walks with Herbie and that's it.
To the nurses who are minding me, feel free to hit me over the head with a chair. I'll take it.   
On the up side, I got breakfast in bed this morning and I'll be having it again tomorrow!!
Have a great weekend one and all 
Love and light
Emma xxx

Hello there!
I was honoured to be on #IrelandAM yesterday morning. We chatted about my new book 'All To Live For' and about cancer in general. I don't look the way I usually do right now. As you will see I'm blown up like a balloon and I'm sporting a wig!
My energy levels are very low so I'm exhausted today. But I am in the lucky position of having a public profile so I thought I should use it to show people that the effects of cancer treatment are transient.
I'll look like me again soon. I'll sound like me again soon. But most importantly I'll feel like me again soon. 
I'd love the interview to give hope. If one person watches it and goes away feeling they can beat their cancer and stamp it into the ground, then I'll be thrilled. 
The link is attached below. (If the link doesn't go through when you click on it, please do copy and then paste it into your search bar)
Have a great weekend one and all - I know someone who is already doing that! Tom-Puss is having a duvet day. 😂
Love and light
Emma 💗

https://www.tv3.ie/3player/show/809/130346/0/Ireland-AM