The All Clear

Yesterday I got the all clear. That's two years cancer free.

I knew I was fine. However, I am not naive enough to think that this thing cannot return in a heartbeat. As mentioned in previous posts, I feel better and more positive now than I ever did before.
What was unusual about yesterday was that I can honestly say that I felt absolutely no anxiety whatsoever when going into the hospital for the results. At the risk of sounding like the IceMan (or an equivalent unfeeling entity), I was totally calm. The doctor actually said to me that he had seen a half dozen patients before me that morning already, all of whom were in various states of anxiety or nervousness, even those who had been free of cancer for 7 or 8 years....and I was the most relaxed person he'd seen all week. I remember the way I sat - almost perched into a relaxed but attentive position. I think this reflect my new ability to take things as they come, try to focus on the now. Of course I had thought about a negative outcome, but had rationalised it and broken it down, seeing clearly what that would look like and how I would cope. This, it seems, is the value of my experience. What will be will be. I must say this was a strange position to be in but left me feeling confident and strong, rather than cold.

I drove home at a very slow pace, thinking about what had just happened, playing it over in my mind and out loud. This felt like a lonely conversation. But of course everybody's experience is different, everybody's fears are different and everybody's vision of their future is different. So in many ways, this was a unique experience.

Then I went back to work. Within an hour I was back doing the mundane, ordinary tasks of the day. And later I made dinner and read stories to my children before going to bed.
But that's o.k. Aren't they the things I got better for? They are the things I choose to do...because I can.

Stress and Cancer

I've been catching up on my Horizon episodes this week as I'm on holidays. As usual, it is insightful in the extreme and often seems relevant to what is going on in my life.

The episode I watched last night was "The Truth about Fat". It is mostly about what causes people to overeat and what can be done for obese people to change their eating habits. All very interesting. However, what I found of most interest was a study by Prof. Tim Spector from King's College, London  on identical twins. They are genetically identical in every way but the twins he is researching have a marked difference in their weight as adults.  The presenter, Surgeon Gabriel Weston, said that "Stress can create parallel but different destinies. Spector stated that "When they were put under stress they reacted differently" (i.e. the one with more stress put on more weight due to the relevant gene 'switching on' and that "It is not set in stone - you can reverse whatever signal has taken place to switch a gene on."
Now, I have blogged before about my firm belief that I caused my own cancer as a result of the environment I put myself in (i.e. stress). But that is all it was, a belief, a feeling I was right. What this program has hinted is that there is more direct scientific research to suggest that genes can be switched on and off as a result of environment. This may not be news to some people but it was to me. I have a science background and had always assumed that genetic predisposition is exactly that, set in stone at the moment of conception. My oncologist said that what happened to me was a 'genetic blip', not caused by environmental factors which causes some cancers (e.g. smoking, drinking excessively etc.).  While this makes sense, I have recently believed that this 'blip' had a trigger. Stress, I believe now, was that trigger, despite some of the things which I have read that suggests this is unlikely.

So the upshot of this for me is very positive. It is even more reassuring that reducing stress in my life, obviously along with eating healthily and taking exercise, will definitely reduce the likelihood of cancer in the future.  It has also driven the need for more personal research in this area to understand what kind of stresses may have a genetic impact. Any pointers would be much appreciated.

Elbow - One Day like this

Last night I watched Elbow on the Olympics closing ceremony singing "One Day Like This". I cried.

When I was recovering two years ago, when I had been told that after four of the six chemo sessions that the scan showed the cancer was gone, I used to listen to this song every day. I remember going through the last two chemo sessions and listening to this song as it was a symbol of the light for me at the end of the tunnel. "Throw those curtains wide" was like a message for me - live every day to the full. It helped me get through those last two sessions with a positive outlook.
I cried last night not just because it reminded me of this time but because in the last 6 weeks or so I have, as suggested in previous posts, had a rekindling of this positive view, literally seeing things in a way I have not done for two years. It was like a reminder to stay on this path.
Incidentally, I have been listening to Elbow's last album recently (Build a Rocket Boys) and the more I listen, the more I think it is inspirational too. Lyrics that are so gentle. If you have not had the pleasure, trust me, it's worth it.

Lance Armstong

When I was sick two years ago a friend of mine bought me a book by Lance Armstrong, the (many time) Tour de France winner who had cancer in the late nineties. It covered how he got sick, what happened and how he got back to health. Even though I must say I was not crazy about him as a person (I thought he was quite arrogant), I was hugely encouraged by this book at the time and would recommend it for anyone who has cancer now or indeed has gone through it and come out the other side.

He was hit by the same issue I had during chemo, a serious decrease in white blood cells which meant he found it difficult to move about (and cycle even a short distance which he found very difficult). I was also inspired by the title, 'My journey back to life' because that is exactly what I felt I was going through, literally trying to get back to a life which I considered to be on hold.
I bring this up because today my wife bought me a running top which is from his brand with Nike, some of the money from which goes to his foundation. She said that felt it would help keep me encouraged when running considering where I had come from two years ago. I think it just might.

And of course I bought a bike when I was at the end of the chemo. But instead of a bike to race on, I got a touring bike to out my two year old on and cycle around town. A much better idea and I have got great use out of it. Only problem now is that he'll only get on the bike with me if I promise to buy him sweets on the journey -it's no longer the pleasure of the spin for him. Can't have everything I suppose.

Children

Two years ago when I had Cancer my children were 9, 6 and 2. I would imagine this paints a difficult picture. And it was, but as I've said previously, my wife handled it so well and things were as normal as was possible. The only things I think they noticed was that I was not at work and helped to get them ready for school in the morning and the fact that I was bald. A neighbour's child, a friend of my then 6 year old daughter, used to come in every day and nonchalantly say "hello baldy", which I loved. Being bald never bothered me in the slightest, an advantage of being a man I expect. It was when the eyebrows went that I looked really strange which took a little longer. Then I really did look sick.

Anyway, my 9 year old boy was at the age where all he cared about were his friends and his nintendo (which is even worse now), the 2 year old was too young to know any difference. But the then 6 year old girl was a revelation. She was acutely aware of what was going on, always watching me out of the corner of her eye..."are you alright there Dad?", "can I get you anything Dad?". At 6 this was astonishing but I suppose I shouldn't really be surprised as girls (and women) in general are better at that than us.  One of my favourite memories of that time was when she fell off her bicycle (bare with me). She came in howling with two cut knees, two cut elbows, a gash on her chin and all the blood that  minor cuts can pump out. In the middle of this she started yelling "I don't want to die, I don't want to die". I love this. In the middle of my cancer nightmare, between chemo sessions and coming off steroids, she was saying this. This is one I'll be bringing up when I'm making a speech at her wedding to ensure her husband (or wife :)) to be knows what their getting into.

People asked us, "did you tell the children what was going on?". And we did. We were very open with them. We first suspected things were not going in when the 6 year old came home from school one day and said she had told her teacher that her Dad was sick. When asked what was wrong with him she said "Alcoholic". Me thinks something got lost in translation.

Then, about 2 months after everything was finished we were at dinner one evening and we asked the 9 year old and 6 year old to remember the Summer and asked what had been wrong with Daddy. Totally blank faces resulted. We started laughing and pushed saying, 'you do remember Dad was sick?'. They did. A few minutes later the 9 year old said "Malaria". The only reason this came into his hear he later told me was that he thought I had the same sickness as Cheryl Cole, who did indeed have Malaria that Summer.

So my conclusion is that my sickness has no impact on my children. Well that's something anyway.

Hospital - what a place!

To back up a comment from the previous post about hospital being a terrible place (despite the wonderful people)......
One weekend between chemo sessions I was rushed in due to a rising temperature, potential danger...the whole palaver. I ended up isolated for 24 hours followed by spending 2 days and nights in a Heart ward as there were no other beds in the hospital. It was both a sad and a funny experience at the same time. There were 8 guys in a room, at least 3 of whom had no idea where they were due to age or drugs or both.  Anyway on the second night I got chatting to this old man and we exchanged war stories about surgery and illness. He then said something that will stay with me forever - "I am 88, more than twice your age, and I want to get out of here just as much as you do." I love that. The simple drive for normality has no age boundary. The abhorrence of sickness has no age boundary. He made me smile when we agreed that to go for a pint was the normal thing we both wanted the most......I already knew that alcohol has no age boundary.

Learning

So what have I learned about myself after all this?
Firstly I learned that I'm a "bit" wired at times. I remember being in the hospital and being quizzed about my lifestyle from a nutritionist and she just laughed at me....not because of all the healthy things I was doing on top of all the work, but the fact that I had been hiding the fact that I was doing a Masters degree from my wife (see previous post).  She had heard of guys going on benders or playing too much golf and pretending to be at work, but omitting  masters degree from a wife's list of 'need to know' was new to her. With hindsight, this speaks volumes really - the fact I didn't tell her indicates I knew she would think I was taking on too much and try to prevent me. Of course this simple logic was not front of mind at the time....and this 'wired' factor has decreased on the last two years.

Secondly, it reconfirmed what I knew already - that I am very focused and driven and can put my mind to anything.    Of course the chemotherapy did the job on the 'thing' but I like to think my determination played at least a part. It certainly did in relation to enduring the chemo.

Thirdly, I have an amazing family - my wife and parents and siblings were my rocks. My wife is a seriously strong person - Samsonlike in her determination to ensure the kids' lives were maintained as normal.

Lastly, I learned that it is important to remember it. It puts everything in perspective. I always say that the worst day at work is a million times better than the best day in hospital. I know it is hard to keep this front of mind when work and normal life is difficult, but it really helps to consider it on those days.

How did I end up in that situation?

Many people may think that asking that question is crazy after two years. Why did I get cancer? I was healthy and fit. I was only 38. I didn't smoke and I drank in moderation. I ate very healthily. All in all, I felt I had the 'balance' I mentioned in previous posts. Well, with hindsight I know that I had the farthest thing from balance. At the time I was sick I had a family, with 3 children under 9, a full time job which was quite demanding. I also had taken on two assistant lecturing positions at the open university, increasing from the single one I had six months earlier. Oh, and I was also finishing a Masters degree. So, what I now know is that I thought I could do everything. I'm smart (well, smart enough) and capable....."why couldn't I do all of this?" was my attitude. I actually remember thinking this.
So in summary I fully believe that I made myself sick. This may be a controversial view to some. My doctors called my non-hodgkins lymphoma a 'genetic blip', literally an accident of genetics. And that's fine. But I believe that this blip was triggered by my situation. I think this because of what I have learned since. I have read alot about eastern medicine and meditation and they indicated the strong links between mind and body.  I believe I pushed myself so far and so hard for so long that something had to give. And it did.
So this now explains my search for balance. Sometimes the old me rears its head.  I recently got it into my head that I wanted to do a doctorate and got all the information on what I needed and thought through the logistics over a period of weeks. Then one day I realised that this was the old me. I had this feeling that this idea did not feel right all along. I meditated on this last night and made a clear (and amazingly quick) decision that I will not persue this crazy idea at this point in my life. The clear lesson I have learned is "JUST BECAUSE I CAN DO SOMETHING DOES NOT MEAN THAT I SHOULD'.  For years I always felt capable and I fully believe that I can do anything I put my mind to, a feeling I have even stronger now I've been through cancer. However, wisdom is about knowing when not to do something and finding the balance in your life. This is a hugely positive step and decision for me and I will take this learning into other parts of my life.

So why blog?......revisited

It struck me some weeks ago that I was so determined to get back to reality two years ago, and subsequently determined to get back to work about 4 months after finishing chemo, that I have missed out on some of the opportunities which the experience has afforded me. By this I mean the realisation of how lucky I was (and am), how much I have in life and how I can use this to ensourage my sense of wonder and appreciation. I remember that nearly every time I was in the hospital for a week and came home, completely whacked from the chemo and the steroids, that I had a sense of wonder for days. I would literally look out the window and marvel at the green grass and flowers. Corny as that may seem now, I had been staring at grey walls in the hospital for over a week and to see something different was fantastic.  To see my children laughing (and fighting) illustrated the life around me as I had shared a ward with some of the sickest people imaginable. Getting back to reality has removed some of this. This is inevitable to some extent I believe as the strains and stresses of normal life return. I mentioned before that when I did alot of meditation earlier this year I felt this appreciation return so I intend to take this up again. But I want to have this sense of appreciation during the day also, to literally make me a better person for having gone through this experience. It was so all encompassing that I believe it can be the driving force for pushing me in new directions. Of this more shortly as I need to work out what these directions are....hence the blog. I think it will help me get my thoughts together on this.

So why blog?

So why would I bother to blog on this subject after 2years? Well, things have moved on. I was so determined to get back to normal, back to exercise and most of all back to work, that I forgot what I went through. For a long time I threw myself into work. About year later I "discovered" meditation, which really helped. But after 6 months I dropped it....I intend to start back soon. But I need to remember more so I can appreciate all I have. Blogging about this will force me to think. More later...."..

The Ordeal

Two years ago I had cancer. I was diagnosed with non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. There was a tmour the size of my fist wrapped around a vein in the centre of my chest. No laughing matter. With hindsight what is funny is how I remember noticing something was wrong. Whenever I went for a a few dinks (and I mean only 2 or 3 drinks) the next morning my neck was swollen. And when I tied my shoelaces I had to catch my breath for a few seconds afterwards.

So....6 months of treatment. 6 Sessions of 5X24 hour days in hospital hooked up to chemo split by 10 days at home. Definitely no laughing matter. But again, with hindsight I do laugh at the thought that struck me towards the end. I was literally gagging for the chemo to start, because I knew the sooner it started the sooner it would all finish. I remember the movie the French Connection 2 where Popeye Doyle (Gene Hackman) was begging his captors for more heroin as they had created an addict in him. I often smile when I think of my urgency to get it going. CRAZY in hindsight only.

They say that you cannot hide from chemo therapy. It always finds everybody's weakness. My weakness was my blood. Every time I went through it my blood cell count was so low after a few days I could hardly walk to the bathroom without being out of breath and several times needed a blood transfusion. And I have always been really active - a runner who loved swimming and weights. I do remember at the start, being in the hospital and thinking that I could keep up some muscle mass and be a little bit fit during this madness. I was on the floor of a bathroom doing press ups becuase I knew if a nurse saw me I'd get a earful of abuse. Well, the downside was that I collapsed and was flat out for a few minutes. Lucky really, I may not have got up at all. Needless to say this has never been mentioned to anyone.

And then it ended. The thing I desired the most was to be able to go to the gym. Again, not what I'd imagine what everybody would want after the big ordeal, but I knew it was what would make me feel normal again. And I desperately wanted to feel normal again. I wanted to feel the adrenaline running through me again. The day I ran for the first time, which was an impressive feat of about 50 metres before I flagged, I cried.