Hello strangers...

It is a weird experience. Every week I wait in reception at BHOC (Bristol Haemotology and Oncology Centre) and see familiar faces. Most I see every 3 weeks but there are one or two faces that I see every week, either waiting with me in reception, already settled in to their treatment or arriving for the next session after mine.

Some attend with partners/friends but most are on their own.

Chemo only patients might attend every 3 weeks. Those on the chemo/immuno mix appear to be weekly - but it's not as simple as that. Not everyone who is receiving treatment alongside me is having it for breast cancer. Far from it.

Each treatment space has its own chair, and support machinery so they are not really within easy chatting distance, and to be fair most people probably don't feel up to chit chat whilst their bodies are being flooded with their very own, special chemical mix.

I've renamed my space 'chemical alley' ! D'you get it !!!

I arrive in the reception area and scan the room. A nod here, a smile there but not much chatting going on although I have a made a new friend. Another woman, younger than me who is also diagnosed with breast cancer. She started 2 weeks ago, having already undergone a mastectomy, and I sat next to her. She asked about my Picc Line, having just had hers put in, then about the treatment. I will need to chat to her about the mastectomy thing in due course....it's still 50/50 with me.

My first day was nerve wracking and I could have done with some reassuring patter. I tried to put Charlotte's mind at rest. It's OK, I said. The Picc Line will get more comfortable. Nurses will inform you of everything and are great. Nothing to worry about. Not as bad as your brain is telling you. Treatment is manageable; the nurses will make it so. Just tell them every little thing. They want to know it all.

Then I thought...this sounds too good. Being brave is one thing but its not all sugar and spice and all things nice. I genuinely feel lucky that my body is holding up; it's generally holding its own against the onslaught but not everyone is as lucky as me.

Charlotte has decided to wear the cold cap to see if she can keep her hair, which extends her stay for an hour before and after. I chose not to bother. It looks like a rugby scrum cap with a hose running towards a machine the size of a dehumidifier. Cold is the wrong word.

It should be called a Polar Cap. Charlotte shared a picture with me after her treatment this week and the icicles were still clinging to her hair when they removed the cap! Talk about brain freeze!!

I am happy with my decision even though my hair disappeared!

In the treatment room there is a constant beeping of machines and then, now and again, a loud consistent buzzing which means someone has hit the emergency button. This can be for many reasons but all of them are disquieting. Privacy screens are drawn around the persons bay and the nurses manage the moment with the requisite experience.

My treatment this week went without a hitch. They started it at 0945 and I was done 3 hours later and I slept through nearly all of it. They had to wake me up!! I hope I didn't snore !!!

I then came home and slept again for another 3 hours then went to bed early!! It's as close to being a toddler as I can imagine...one minute wide awake, the next I am slipping in and out of sleep.

When I say toddler, I mean a mature toddler. I have yet to throw my food on the floor or poop my pants...But I guess there is still time in this round of treatment.

My bloods are still all over the place, but it's face to face consultant time again at the end of this week, and we will undoubtedly discuss what to do about it. Low iron, low magnesium and liver measurement out; haemoglobin still below 100 on the scale. The good news - for that is what we must look for - is I have excellent Vitamin D levels. This would explain why I still have (albeit thinning) eyebrows and lashes, and my nails are in really good condition.

Dizzy spells and breathlessness still a side issue but not as bad as it was.

Nausea still a problem, but controllable. Last week I had two really good days. When I say 'good' I mean the new 'good', not what good used to be.

But I'll take that...!