Floor

I passed out in the bathroom this evening.

One second I was at the sink, rinsing anti-septic mouthwash over my ulcers and, the next, BANG!  On the floor.

All of which made for a rotten ending to a terrible day.

My throat is now completely burned away inside.  The salivary glands and tastebuds are gone and the soft tissue is just a wall of ulcers.  The only way I can swallow is by spraying artificial saliva into the back of my throat (yep, you heard…) but, even then, it’s agony.

My tongue is covered in blisters, my neck is stiff and the skin on my lips is peeling away nicely.

Nice, huh?

As a result, I finally had to admit that I can no longer eat via my mouth.  I’d known this was a possibility ever since I’d had the stomach peg fitted but, I’ll be honest, part of me just didn’t believe it would get that far.

Kirsty made me a bowl of very runny Ready Brek this morning, but I may as well have been trying to eat a selection of the finest scorpion arseholes.  I just couldn’t do it.

So, I unclipped by peg, filled it with nutrient-rich milkshake, and breakfast was served…

Cheers!

…and that will also be every other meal for the next four weeks, at least.

My radiotherapy session – R11/19 – went as well as could be expected, although I did feel a little light-headed after I came out.  Lack of sleep and no real food for days.  Had to be.  I’d be fine after a rest.

But, things took a turn for the worse when Kirsty and I arrived home.  I went for a lie down, and had just got into bed when a whole new brand of side-effect dropped in to say hello.

My throat muscles and windpipe went into spasm, flooding my chest, neck and head with sharp, shooting pains.

For a brief second, I genuinely thought I was having a heart attack.  That I’d suffered some kind of bizarre reaction to today’s RT session and was now paying the price.

I thought I was going to die.

It took Kirsty a good twenty minutes to calm my resulting tear-stained panic attack and, even then, she kept her finger hovering over the phone’s ‘9’ button until the pain began to subside.

I did manage to get a nap for an hour or so after that, then it was up and at ’em to pour another couple of milkshakes down my tube.  After which, I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and rinse my mouth, and…

…well, we’re back at the very start of this post again.

I’m feeling down tonight, which I think is damn well allowed.  I did go to bed earlier to read for a while, but have just got up to pour some liquid painkillers and yet another 300ml of laxative (‘cos, that’s not happened yet, either!) in via my insert pipe.

Then, I’m going back to bed.

Opt In Image
Support Tommy and Get Stuff!
Become a patron, support Tommy and get exclusive content every month

Like many children's authors, the large portion of Tommy's income comes from holding speaking events and writing workshops in schools - two things he is currently unable to do. It's not all doom and gloom, though. Tommy is still delivering great writing advice - and lots of other stuff, too - via Patreon. From just $1 (about 70p) per month, you can get access to this completely exclusive content AND help Tommy through this difficult time. Sign up now!  Just click on the button below for more details. Your inbox will thank you for it!

Please help by sharing this post...Share on FacebookShare on Google+Tweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInShare on RedditShare on Tumblr

25 Comments


  1. Definitely allowed Tommy. Nothing I can say – you and Kirsty and your boys have all my kindest thoughts xxx

    Reply

  2. Tommy …. you certainly are allowed to feel down. You’re going through something horrific to rid yourself of something even more horrific. Keep fighting, keep your sense of humour, keep writing. There are lots of people following your experiences and rooting for you. xxx

    Reply

  3. Aargh, huge hugs, Tommy – I hope the spasms were a one-off. I’ve also passed out in the bathroom (mine was a massive allergic reaction and kidney infection) so maybe we could form a club. Like The Breakfast Club but with more Domestos. Less cool.
    No?

    Reply

  4. Hey Tommy.

    Thinking of you, buddy.

    My dad had inoperable throat cancer. Had being the operative word.

    Keep fighting and writing. We’re all thinking of you and rooting for your recovery.

    Steve

    Reply

  5. Hey Tommy.

    Thinking of you, buddy.

    My dad had inoperable throat cancer. Had being the operative word, because he beat it.

    Keep fighting and writing. We’re all thinking of you and rooting for your recovery.

    Steve

    Reply

  6. Oh Tommy that’s horrible D: Really hope you recover from this low point soon! At least it’s hopefully only for a short time anyway, and bless Kirsty for calming you down while still being cautious just in case.

    One day not too far from now you’re going to look back on days like this one and feel so relieved that you got through it.

    Reply

  7. I found your blog via a friend. My Mum is going through a similar experience right now. She has oesophageal cancer. She hasn’t been able to eat for three months. She’s coming up for round 3 of chemo and will soon be on 6 weeks of radiotherapy. I hope your radiotherapy symptoms ease for you soon. It’s a shitty and miserable thing you have to go through. Oh, and have you tried the nutrifibfre drinks in your PEG, rather than just the nutrisip? Mum says they help with the blocked belly situation. Sending you strength and healing thoughts. x

    Reply

  8. Horrible. You have the right to feel very down.

    But I just noticed: 11/19 – you’re getting there!

    Reply

  9. Faaaackinell.

    How you manage to find humour in the middle of this horrible time is testament to the amazing person you are. So proud of you, Tommy. I’m in awe.

    Xxxx

    Reply

  10. It’s unbelievable what you’re going through, Tommy, and I have nothing but admiration for you.

    The fact that you’re able to keep writing this blog is testament to your strength and determination – though it may not look that way from your end right now.

    Keep going. Keep ticking off the days. Things will get better.

    Reply

  11. Oh Tommy yesterday sounds like a really bad day. I’m pleased you felt strong enough to post a photo though.. Virtual hugs

    Reply

  12. I think you are holding up well all things considered. Just think of when you get your all clear the celebrations you will have. Hugs and good wishes

    Reply

  13. As my mother always says, ‘This too shall pass.’ But horrible in the meantime! Keep going. Maybe sit in the sun for a while? All strength to you and your family. I found a very good online forum to vent/ask for advice when my husband had cancer – maybe Kirsty would find that helpful?

    Reply

  14. What a crap day. Remember in our darkest, we shine the brightest. This will pass. This will get better. Hold that thought in your head. Keep shouting at us, because we can take it.
    Let’s hope today is a little better for you.

    Reply

  15. Much sympathy – not that that will help! Like others, I’m amazed that you can still see the funny side – what a super-hero!

    Reply

  16. Thinking of you and sending strong and supportive thoughts. We are all rooting for you.

    Reply

  17. Hey Tommy, Sorry to read this, sounds pretty grim, but could you do me a favour and let me know where I can get hold of some organic scorpion arseholes? Sainsbury’s were fresh out and I know that Tesco just do the battery farmed ones.

    Once again, your ability to approach all of this with humour is a MASSIVE inspiration. Stay strong!

    Reply

  18. Guts, humour and plenty of laxatives are the key to staying sane through the shite! That milkshake bungs you up good and proper and sits on your stomach like a brick too !! 🙂

    6+years out and life is awesome despite can’t eat meat and milk chocolate tastes positively flipping disgusting!

    Things will be different out the other side but it becomes a new ‘normal’ and life is somehow more wonderful despite it all.

    Weirdly cancer changed my life in so many amazing ways, so whilst this treatment is truly challenging I know YOU WILL ROCK this Tommy, because attitude is EVERYTHING!!!

    Diane xxxxx

    Reply

  19. Definitely allowed, methinks. Big hugs me dear xxx

    Reply

  20. Hi Tommy, you may not remember me – but I worked on Buddy at The Strand (with Matt) for the last couple of years With Claire (Carpenter) and Beth (Eden) We are now CBL! I just wanted to let you know that we are reading your blog and supporting you all the way – you are so brave as are your family :)X
    Keep going-you can beat this!
    Linda (Edwards)

    Reply

  21. Sending love your way for you all x

    Reply

  22. Trust me those nutrient shakes will be the life saver – get as many down the PEG as you can! I never completely lost the ability to eat but it was very close – I was hospitalised after treatment for dehydration because of struggling to get enough liquid down. The day will come when your PEG will be removed ( mine was called Simon – sorry not original but it was the best I could do). I got so used to walking around with the tube apparatus hanging over my stomach it was quite strange once they pulled it out with a *sloooop* sound! It was brilliant though.

    Adrian

    Reply

  23. R11/19! You’re halfway there mate!⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️’S!

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *