Welcome lovely friends to my first ever blog. It's thanks to Mr Hodgkin, who has given me the loan of his Lymphoma for the foreseeable future. Of course we all know that I'm going to be handing it back to him sharpish, and when I do, it'll be in a very poor state indeed, with its tits ripped off and its arse kicked inside out. 

I'm starting my blog from what they call Day One, which is the first day after the first lot of chemotherapy. So many people are wishing me so many great things, and asking how it went. I figured this is the best way to let you know and avoid repeating myself. 

Just to keep you up to speed: I was diagnosed on 24th January, having had a biopsy on a neck lump on 13th January. My symptoms began at the end of July 2011 (swollen neck, bouncy glands, whole-body itching and a couple of drenchy night sweats), so that's quite a while to diagnosis, which explains why I have stage 3b, which is advanced HL, rather than early. This was concluded from a PET scan on 1st Feb. Luckily the bone marrow trephine (ow my ar*se) on the 2nd Feb was negative, so pthrpt to you Hodgkin, and continue to keep your evil fingers off my organs. As I was nearing the end of directing a pantomime I had written with a local musical theatre group, I didn't want the cast to find out until after the final performance, on Saturday 18th Feb, so I kept it quiet, which was at times harder than being ill! Writing a panto was one dream that I wasn't going to let go of, but the other - playing an eponymous lead - I had to sacrifice, and I pulled out of Thoroughly Modern Millie on Sunday 19th. There'll be others, I'm sure, as soon as I've dealt with this barsteward.

The treatment I am receiving is called ABVD. This involves four drugs:

1) doxorubicin (originally called Adriamycin) (For pink wee-wee!)

2) bleomycin (the one most likely to pinch my lovely locks from me)

3) vinblastine

4) dacarbazine

...hence the name. Do you see? I'm having it all sloshed into me at the Haematology Day Case Unit at Southmead hospital. As it was my first time, I got my lovely chap Roger to drive me there. We were early and nervous, and seated in the waiting area, that wouldn't be the first choice for a cat-swinging competition. As we clung to each other, people came in and out, and I scrutinised every one for hair content. They were mostly old chaps, so it was hard to tell what had been theirs to lose in the first place! I did detect a missing eyebrow here, a patchy bonce there. A young, slim lady arrived with her bloke, and when they sat down, they began to pick at the loose hairs that were covering the back of her top. She'd probably acquired those since she'd left the house. That is what it is going to be like. More on that later.

The nursing staff were wonderful - so cheerful. My nurse was called Tina. She's from Nigeria, and was very excited about going back there for a holiday in a few days' time. She was also very friendly and cuddly, and made me feel at ease. I was shown to an easy chair and I made myself comfortable, hanging my coat up, kicking off my shoes. (Note to self: If you decide to remove your bra next time, do it before they hook you up to the drip, because unless it's strapless, you're stuck with it!) Having asked the needle-fearing Roger to take a walk, Tina popped a cannula in my left wrist and took a sample of blood. This was a bit annoying as I thought I had had this done a week ago. Apparently the doctor wasn't satisfied and wanted more. So we had to wait two hours before the chemo itself began! Not ideal. I began to get hungry, which was not what I had expected, so I deployed The Rog on a mission for a baked potato. He was 100% successful and ate my free sandwich while I chomped on my spud. ("It's practically cannibalism!"

It was while we were munching that Tina arrived with a big box of pouches whose contents would soon be my contents. I paused my lunch to concentrate. (Funny, I really didn't think I'd be able to eat but it was easy, and I completed the food while being treated) She had given me a syringe of pre-med, then I was hooked up to saline while I'd been waiting. The saline carries on all the time, to dilute the other yuck. Now she gave me three anti-sickness tabs called granisetron (which cost £5 a tablet, thank you tax-payers! (Oo hang on, that's me isn't it?)), and began with number one which was doxyrubicin. This she pushed through a syringe, causing Roger to come over all funny again. "You're very brave, well done!" I kept saying to him, which had the nurses giggling. I can't remember the order of the other ones. I think the next two were the v and b, which were attached to pouches and dripped in. They didn't take long. The machine makes a "cuckoo" noise when you're done, a bit like being in a microwave. We passed the time working and dozing, and getting increasingly bored. I was definitely an "im"patient! The last one was a big bug*er, and took the best part of ninety minutes to go through. Roger was chomping at the bit at that point, and I wasn't far behind him. We were done and out by 5.20, so it was about 5.5 hours in all. 

The whole experience was much easier than I'd ever imagined. The only discomfort was towards the end, when I felt pain in my wrist. Tina adjusted the drip speed and it went away instantly. I thought I could feel the stuff going in sometimes, but I can't really describe the sensation: burny/tingly/icy? I was just aware of it. The nurse was hugely impressed with me as I hadn't flinched an inch the whole time. She said that the dacarbazine can often cause a reaction - sickness, shivery fever etc - but that I was fine. She put it down to my positive attitude. A lot of people wait for the side effects, and that is their undoing. I did get one thing that I was warned about, but pink wee is nothing to be scared of! Anyway it only happened once, because of all the saline dilution. It was funny not having much to drink all afternoon, but not being thirsty! I did feel a slight metallic taste in my mouth, and I had a bit of a numb tongue this morning. And the tiniest bit of nausea in the pit of my belly, but I'm on top of that.

Tina also gave me a goodie bag of drugs, to take home and take. There's more of the granisetron (2 per day on day 1 and 2); if that doesn't work, there's the deceptively glamorous-sounding domperidone, which I can take over the next five days. Then there's the dexamethasone, a steroid, which I just take three of on day 1. Boo to steroids! I have to carry a card on me to show that I'm taking the b******s. Finally, and maybe most importantly, a thing called allopurinol, that I have to take every day until they tell me to stop. This helps my kidneys to flush out the crap and reduces damage to them.

Anyhow, I've been bouncing around today like there's nothing wrong with me! Maybe it's relief that my first session wasn't as traumatic as I thought it would be? Maybe it's the steroids, though I was bouncing a bit before I took any. I've done tonnes of work, sitting in my usual "office" which is under a duvet on the sofa. At the same time, I've watched 2 lots of boring soap omnibi (the Emmerdale one was particularly harrowing...) and the Brady Bunch Movie when I had a rest before lunch. I feel fine now, and I might venture something light for tea. I'm a little concerned that I'm going to turn back into the Jabba the Lizzie that I was when I was suffering from depression, nearly a decade ago, but as I am in such a different place in life, with work and a house, and a Knight in Shining Armour (who managed not to pass out the entire time, and to drive me home speedily AND make me cheese and beans on toast), I won't let it happen.

I think that's all you need to know for now. As the yuck starts to work, I may feel some side effects increasingly over the next fortnight, but I'll reveal these as and when and if they occur, to maintain an air of mystery. Ooooo!