March 8: A real roller coaster of a month

I was 'randomised' and got the T-DM1 arm of the trial - this is the one I think Dr Hickish wanted me to have.

I had pre-chemo on the Monday, which went well, Nurse Purandare gave me a full examination and reassured me that all recorded side effects from T-DM1 were very minimal.

I had chemo on Tuesday, it all went smoothly except my line wouldn't bleed - the drugs would go in but the blood wouldn't come out.

No one seemed overly concerned except that I had to have a blood test from my arm.

I went home and felt fine until Thursday - nausea and fatigue like I had forgotten was possible. I stayed in bed Thursday and Friday but by Saturday already felt a lot better.

I was thrilled - if two days in bed was all I was going to suffer then this chemo was going to be a doddle.

On Monday night I had a bad night, Leah woke me up because she had wet the bed again, we had no dry sheets because Megan had wet the bed the night before and it feels like it's been raining forever.

I put Leah into our bed and I went on the sofa - I knew I wouldn't go back to sleep anyway. I cried a lot, my head was spinning with all the thoughts I'd had about the future back in the early days - who would look after the girls, no one would do it as well as I can blah blah blah.

When Mum arrived in the morning to take Leah to school I broke down. I upset the girls and probably Mum as well. Mum put me to bed and delivered the girls to their relevant places.

I had a bit of a sob on Mum's shoulder when she got back and then felt better. It was a week since chemo so I had to go to hospital to have blood tests, my tube wouldn't bleed again so I had to have blood taken from my hand - two incredibly painful attempts.

This time they were more concerned so made an appointment for me to go to the radiology department for them to look at the line under x-ray to establish the problem, I may need another new tube.

That finished me off and when I got back to the car I broke down again. I spent the rest of the day in bed.

The next morning Kev and I had an argument, nothing serious but he was trying to motivate me to get moving (as I had previously asked him to do) but I just wasn't up to it.

By the time Mum arrived I was in a right state again, Kev & I talked and argued all day long about how he needs to be more supportive and face up to what is happening to us, poor Mum tried to mediate.

We ended up calling the GP out to me. I had to explain how I felt, how I just couldn't go on any more, how exhausted I felt, how I didn't have the energy to fight any more. My GP prescribed Diazepam and lots of rest. I decided to go and stay at Mum's.

I needed the break and Kev needed the opportunity to take on the responsibility of the girls & home properly without Mum & I interfering.

I stayed at Mum's for a week but hated being away from the girls so much - they visited me which I think just confused them and upset me.

The day I decided to go home I had to go to hospital first so packed my bag with the plan to go on home from the hospital - I then had a panic attack.

It was horrible, I went all sweaty & my legs like jelly then I couldn't control my breathing - hyperventilating I guess. Mum & Kev came to my rescue, laid me down, helped calm my breathing down and I fell asleep.

At the hospital I had to go to the radiology department first to sort out my tube before going to Ward 10 for blood tests.

Gowned up, laid out on a hospital table with my right breast exposed, an x-ray plate millimetres from my face the Dr who is famous for 'lacking in bedside manner' informed me that there was no problem getting my tube to bleed at all but that it was about to fall out.

He told me to get dressed, inform Ward 10 and arrange for a new tube to be put in. I still feel very traumatised from the insertion of my first tube, I know the second one went in fine but that was only 2 months ago - surely I don't need another one yet???

Anyway - bloods taken fine and Dr George suggested sticking the tube in place with a plaster! It actually seemed to work - except that I have developed allergies to pretty much anything they try sticking to my chest - my right breast is a real mess - all scabby & weepy (TMI???) Yesterday I had an appointment with Dr Pugh the Consultant Doctor with Macmillan. I don't know why I've not met her before but our (Kev came too) appointment was at 3.30pm, we went in on time (well would have if I hadn't been in the toilet) and we left at 5.15pm.

I cried the whole time I was in there. I explained how I felt, I told 'my cancer story' from the start and how I felt I had been pretending to cope so well initially so that I didn't have to face up to what was really happening - perhaps Kev wasn't the only one in denial???

Dr Pugh listened, and listened and made a few suggestions and then listened some more. She believes that although I am suffering from depression I am also suffering from exhaustion, shock and grief.

She believes I need space to 'sort my head out' as it were. She doesn't think I can do that at home with Kev and the girls in and out or even at Mum's with her looking after me.

She has suggested I think about using the Macmillan Day Centre - my initial reaction was horror at the thought of an old persons day centre, but she showed me round - it is bright and airy, there are things to do, a big pottery area, a library, a computer, puzzles etc but also space to do nothing - to take my book to read or my writing.

I instantly felt a weight lift. Dr Pugh also suggested a weeks respite in the Macmillan Unit - again I felt horror - isn't that where people go to die?

Yes - but not all the time, they also go there to have pain managed or to have a proper break from life, again I felt more weight lift.

At the hospital today I had a telephone call directly through the ward to me! It was Dr Pugh saying that she had spoken to the Day Centre manager and also to a Liaison Psychiatrist and both think they may be able and want to try to help me.

I am amazed and so impressed with the service Macmillan offer.

Sadly my chemo experience was less pleasant because the doctors and nurses are unable to agree what to do about my tunnel line - some seem to want it out, others seem happy to leave it be.

These conversations go on around me and I feel like I am being a nuisance. I know it's not my fault, I know that in my head but I just feel like it's me causing these problems.

I'm really not in a good place at the moment but I am confident (mostly) in the people looking after me and I know I have the most amazing family and friends who are so supportive and take whatever I throw at them.

Now I just have to wait & see what this round of chemo does to me.

If you're moved by Nikki's story, why not sign up for this year's Race For Life by clicking here? Or you can donate to Cancer Research at Nikki's Just Giving page here