Things I have found helpful, which I record in the hope that some may also be helpful to you, even though your cancer and your experience will be different.

Click on a link:

Books
Emotional support
Visualisation
Rest and exercise
Food and drink
Mouth hygiene
Complementary therapies
Postscript

Books

The first cancer book I read, initially somewhat reluctantly, was passed on to me by a friend who was diagnosed at more or less the same time as me: Undefeated, an autobiography by Marsha Hunt, the star of the original stage musical Hair. What I understood from her was how important it would be for me to be in control of as much as possible of my treatment, given there was so much not within my control. The first step in this was the approach to possible – indeed likely – hair loss from chemotherapy.

Cutting your hair off (or very short, a number 2 cut was my route) before it can start falling out in handfuls puts you in control of the process to a much greater degree – you have taken action to minimise the effects. In one sense this takes courage if you love your hair, or even if you don't, but it gave me one less thing to worry about when starting chemo and I believe my experience of actual hair loss was far less traumatic as a result. In fact it wasn't traumatic at all. The other positive is the opportunity to use the experience to play with different looks and effects. I hated the idea of a wig, alien, hot, scratchy, but loved the thought of having a range of headgear to choose from to suit my mood and activities.

My husband was in America when I got my diagnosis and he found some books there I found enormously helpful, both in forming a mindset and understanding the disease and the likely treatments.
Straight talk about breast cancer from diagnosis to recovery, 3rd edition, Suzanne W Braddock MD et al, Addicus Books (www.AddicusBooks.com), 2007. Written by a doctor who was diagnosed with breast cancer, this book does exactly what it says. It allowed me to understand the disease and diagnosis and what would be happening to me, the treatments and how the different drugs work. This latter was particularly helpful with visualisation (cf), especially during chemotherapy.

Finding Sanctuary, monastic steps for everyday life, Abbot Christopher Jamison, Weidenfeld & Nicolson (www.orionbooks.co.uk), 2006. Abbot Christopher is an inspirational figure. You do not have to be a Christian to find solace and guidance in this book; his spirituality is transcendent.

Emotional support

If you don't tell people you're ill, they can't support you. Let them. It will help them and it will help you. My friends and family were wonderful and I feel very privileged in that. The cards, the phone calls, the flowers, the tlc created a form of giant safety net. I also found that it helped people to know what to say if I was direct about my condition as it meant they didn't have to tiptoe around the subject. This didn't mean telling everyone everything all of the time.

An old university friend whose wife had died from cancer two years before rang me as soon as he heard. His advice was massively important for me because it was so personal.
- 'Everyone will follow your lead. It's up to you to set the tone.' It seems obvious when you think about it, but I hadn't. Basically, if you don't want to be surrounded by gloom, be jolly and people will be jolly with you. And vice versa.
- 'Everyone is different.' It's true generally, but with cancer especially so. Prognosis, treatment, outcome: you are unique. This truth is one of the main reasons I have eschewed statistics on life expectancy. Only my own experience is relevant to me.

Visualisation

I realised I wanted and needed all the help and support I could get to fight any lingering post-operative cancerous cells, so I formed an army, a green multitude actually, to wage the war. I was very detailed in the planning, mentally involving my friends, family and the medical professionals engaged in my care, all of whom I knew were rooting for me, each with a role to play. There's a part of my army on duty all the time, being vigilant. I found visualisation particularly powerful during chemo sessions. Do whatever works for you. If you believe it's helpful, it's probably helping.

Rest and exercise

The decision to nurture myself, especially during treatment, to reinforce my general wellbeing proved a useful discipline. I sometimes had to make myself sit down for 10 minutes between tasks - I quickly learnt that not to do so meant I would get less done in the end. A siesta became commonplace and I was better for it even when I didn't sleep, the quiet and relaxation was restorative. I came to accept that I couldn't do everything I wanted, so I would prioritise my energy store to ensure the things I really minded about could happen – whether social occasion or doing a chore.

At the same time I tried to go for at least one walk every day, even if I wasn't able to do the two Pickles was accustomed to. It was good to get out in the fresh air.

Food and drink

I find the idea of a diet is depressing. I love food and need an overall approach that is flexible and permits treats within a well-balanced regime. Crudely speaking, it seems that cancers thrive on fat, sugar and refined foods. It therefore makes sense to me to try to minimise these elements while maximising wholefoods, vegetables, fruit and water (to flush and hydrate the system). I am guided by the 8-10 (different fruits and vegetables) a day rule and focus on achieving 8: - 3 fruits and 5 veg. I find this means there is not much room left for the 'minimise' items, so achieving it becomes easier by taking the positive decision to eat more fruit and veg.

Drink lots of water. Among other reasons, the more hydrated you are the easier to cannulate your veins will be and the less vulnerable to damage from the chemo drugs. My oncologist was also very keen for me to flush the chemo drugs out of my system as soon as possible to minimise other side effects. In my case he told me their job is done within a couple of hours of infusion. I find it useful to keep large bottles of water (tap) and a glass in every room I spend any length of time in. It's both handy and a reminder. Wine? Yes, I still enjoy wine, though very rarely during chemo, and have traded frequency for quality.

If evolution works better for you than revolution, don't try to change everything at once, take it in stages, do what you know you can stick with, feel good about eating and drinking better. Don't torture yourself. Enjoy it. Then take the next step.

Mouth hygiene

The oncology nurses lectured me at the outset on the importance of oral hygiene, as mouth sores are a common side effect of chemo. Trust me, prevention is better than cure. I found the potions prescribed to help vile and, a fan of aromatherapy, instead used a mouthwash recipe recommended in Valerie Ann Worwood's book The Fragrant Pharmacy, Bantam Press (www.booksattransworld.co.uk). Made with essential oils of geranium, thyme, lemon and peppermint, I found it pleasant to use, highly effective and easy to make up at home.

Complementary therapies

If you are interested in complementary therapies (and I am interested in complementary therapy not alternative therapy), Barbara Sergent at Knots Elementals www.knotselementals.com is a useful source of high quality essential oils as well as Bach flower and other remedies.

Postscript

Chemobrain (how could I forget?!) is a condition I’m all too familiar with. Worst for me was the forgetfulness and inability to plan, now, nine months later, somewhat improved, but still imperfect. My sister and a friend gave me pill organisers: I had one upstairs and one downstairs and at the beginning of a chemo week I would populate them with the many pills I had to take. A brilliant invention: I’d have been lost without them.

And make yourself write everything down. It was the only way I could remember anything I had to do or say at all.

Radiotherapy. You can’t be liberal enough with that aqueous cream before treatment. Slather it on and over a larger area than you think you need to. Once you get sore, it’s almost impossible to heal until the treatment is over.

Hot flushes. My oncologist recommended evening primrose oil and I’ve found it very effective. Symptoms are now minimal.

After treatment. Once I’d finished both chemo and radio I expected to feel normal again after a couple of months or so. I didn’t and that no doubt compounded the issue. As did the onset of mild lymphodeoma in my arm (I was low risk but it happened anyway), which I now manage relatively happily. It took me nearly five months of low energy before I felt myself again and I now know that others have experienced the same. Expectation management is everything.