Tag Archives: symptoms

by | July 18, 2012 · 11:18 pm

Tattoos, Frasier, and new treatments…

Greetings all,

Apologies it’s been such a long time since my last post – it’s been a period of ups and downs, which should become clear throughout this post.

Right then, where to start?

Ipilimumab

Well the first thing to update you on is our decision regarding Ipi. So following that disappointing appointment at the Royal Marsden (described in my ‘long time, no write…’ post), we went back to clinic a fortnight later to discuss the issue further. We approached this appointment fully prepared to argue our case to go on Ipi – but the doctor that we saw presented a very convincing case against taking this option.

She confirmed that it was the consensus of the whole team at the Marsden (including the doctor who had been on holiday during my previous appointment) that Ipi was not suitable for me because of my pre-existing ulcerative colitis. She advised that she had not been able to find any examples of anyone with a condition like mine being given Ipi; she also cited examples of two of their patients who were currently in hospital, both suffering from severe colitis induced by Ipi, both on intra-veneous steroids, and one of whom they did not expect to recover from the colitis.

Weighed up against this risk was the seemingly miniscule potential chance that the drug would actually have any benefit. She explained that their typical response rate was in the region of five per cent – hardly an inspiring figure! And even then I was advised that I didn’t fit the profile of a typical ‘responder’, so my chances of gaining any significant benefit from the drug were even less than that.

In light of these factors, and after much thought, we decided to turn down Ipi as a treatment option. We felt that it posed too much of a risk to everything else we were doing in terms of our ‘integrative’ treatment approach – if I were to end up in hospital on intra-veneous steroids I wouldn’t be eating Sally’s healthy meals, wouldn’t be able to exercise, would probably have to stop taking supplements, etc.

And also very importantly, I’d only be able to see family and friends during hospital visiting hours, and my time with Saskia would be limited – there’s only so much time she would tolerate in a hospital ward (or be tolerated in a hospital ward!).

In summary, the risk of colitis and the negative impact this could have on everything else we were doing, both in terms of my ability to fight the disease and my quality of life, seemed to outweigh what looked like a very slim chance of a response. So after a lot of thought we decided to say ‘no’ to Ipi.

This was an incredibly difficult decision to make – throughout life you get used to the idea that if you get ill, you go to the doctor and they give you something to make you better. To actually walk away from a ‘conventional’ treatment option like Ipi (despite all the risks) and say ‘we are going it alone’ with diet, exercise, etc, was incredibly unnerving. Rationally we had been through all the pros and cons, and so had faith in our decision – but that didn’t seem to make it any less daunting.

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Life After Ipi

So that was it – back home from the hospital to fight this monster ourselves, with our regime of exercise, diet, relaxation, supplements, etc.

Since then life has certainly had its ups and downs.

While our integrative regime initially went well, we soon discovered the magnitude of exactly what we had taken on – fighting cancer had suddenly become a full time job. It wasn’t long before we were struggling with the time demands of shopping for and preparing fresh meals, juicing, walking, trying to fit in relaxation, etc. On top of the everyday demands of trying to manage a baby, a house, and the rest of everyday life, we found ourselves a little over-committed.

My previous treatment regime of sitting on the sofa eating scotch eggs and chicken and mushroom slices had certainly been less work, and definitely more enjoyable – although probably not offering as much towards the fight against the cancer.

While on the subject I have been amazed at the amount of admin that having cancer involves. Endless forms, e-mails between hospitals, appointment letters and planning, phone calls between hospitals, prescriptions, etc, etc. It has been truly incredible.

Fortunately just as we were reaching our wits end, we had a week long break in the Lake District, staying in a lovely cottage just outside Keswick with my Mum, Step-dad and Sister. This gave Sally and I a chance to have a bit of a rest, with all the extra pairs of hands to help look after Saskia. I personally didn’t manage to do much walking or photography, mainly due to tiredness – but we had a nice break, with plenty of good pub meals, a boat trip, and time to relax.

Unfortunately towards the end of the holiday I started to suffer with pain in my left arm (which we put down to nerve damage from the chemotherapy), and the pain in my back increased considerably, leaving me in quite a lot of discomfort. To compound matters I also started to suffer more and more from fatigue. By the time we were back home I was pretty much exhausted, and in significant discomfort if in any position other than lying on the bed.

And that has been the story up until now. The last few weeks have been very difficult – between the fatigue and back pain most days have been spent lying on the bed, in a half asleep stupor, watching endless episodes of Frasier, Futurama and the Simpsons on obscure Sky comedy channels (but not Friends, because Friends is rubbish, despite the fact that it is on ALL THE BLOODY TIME). The consensus of the doctors is that the physical and mental exhaustion is a side effect of the brain radiotherapy. I have to admit I thought I had passed the window for those side effects, but evidently not.

The consensus of those around me (ermm… mainly Sally) is that I have also been suffering from a little depression. I can’t say I was really aware of this myself at the time, but I can understand where she is coming from – it seemed to coincide with the period when I felt most mentally fatigued (obviously all that Frasier wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping my spirits up – perhaps I should have been watching Friends after all!). Looking back I can certainly say that over the last few days I have felt mentally more ‘with it’, and Sally seems happy that I am returning to my normal cheery happy-go-lucky self (actually I’m not sure she would go that far!).

Despite spending most of the last three weeks semi-comatose on the bed, an awful lot has been happening in terms of treatments and hospital appointments during that time. Last week on Friday I had radiotherapy treatments at Canterbury Hospital on my arm and back to try and help with the pain (yes, that’s right – it turns out the pain in the arm wasn’t nerve damage, but spread of the cancer to the bone in my arm). Excitingly this involved me getting my first three tattoos – they do a ‘CT planning scan’ beforehand to see the areas they need to target, and then they tattoo you in order to make sure that when they actually come to do the radiotherapy they are targeting the right place.

They give you a choice of what you want – so I went for an anchor, an England flag, and a big lions head. Obviously I am lying – all they did was tattoo three tiny dots on me. One on my arm, and two just above my trouser line, both of which I am currently too fat to be able to see without the aid of a mirror (not the arm, I can see that one – I’m not that fat, yet).

So far I think the radiotherapy has had some benefit – although like with the brain radiotherapy they tell you it can actually make the problem worse for a week or so. But so far it’s not been too bad, and I would say things have improved slightly. So I’m looking forward to next week when I should feel the full benefits.

I also have big news on further treatments – we have been to see another doctor at St Georges Hospital in Tooting, who specialises in both melanoma (among other cancers) and the immune system (anyone watching may have seen him on Newsnight on Monday and Tuesday nights). Given that I have melanoma, and an auto-immune condition, we thought he was worth a visit. So we have been to see him a couple of times, and he has prepared a new treatment plan for me, consisting of about four different medications.

After making that decision to ‘go it alone’ with the Ipi decision it is slightly strange to be back in the world of ‘conventional’ treatments, but it seems what he is offering poses significantly less risk than Ipi, and with hopefully a better chance of pay-off (although as with all these things, the typical response rates are not great). So I am due in hospital on Friday for another course of chemotherapy (but a different drug to last time).

That is assuming I can get there – today I managed to put my back out even more than previously, trying to pick up a towel from the bed, and so have spent this afternoon and evening lying on the bed, even more immobile than usual. So here’s hoping I am mobile enough on Friday to get in for treatment.

Before I finish I want to say my usual thank you to all who have sent messages of support over the period since my last blog. I know it’s been a long time, and it’s difficult for people not knowing what’s going on when I don’t write on here. And I’m sorry that recently I haven’t been replying to those messages, phone calls, etc – it’s not been because I didn’t want to, or because I don’t appreciate them – it’s just because, frankly I have been absolutely exhausted and not really up to it.

Right, I think I’ll leave it there for now. Now, can I make it to the bathroom without collapsing… tune in next time to find out.

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by | May 23, 2012 · 9:31 pm

A melting pot of news…

So I thought I’d post again to update you on everything I didn’t manage to fit into Monday’s post (which is quite a lot!).

Firstly then, an update on how I am feeling – not too bad thanks. The radiotherapy certainly seems to have had a positive impact on the brain situation – I’ve not really had any head aches or pressure since the treatment. I have reduced my steroids to half the original dose, and stopped taking codeine about a week ago (leaving me just taking paracetamol in terms of pain relief for my back). Cutting down on the steroids has had a positive impact in terms of reducing my appetite (back down from six meals a day to a paltry three!), and reduced considerably the profuse sweating (a bonus for everyone who has to come near me). The plan is I gradually keep reducing the dose until, hopefully, I can come off them entirely.

Unfortunately I still have the excess weight gained during my rabid, non-stop eating phase while on the higher dose. I have generally put on weight, but another effect of the steroids is that it tends to collect in certain areas – for example round the cheeks and neck, which means I now have an almost perfectly spherical face. I have also developed a ‘hump’ on the back of the neck. This is all part of ‘Cushing’s syndrome’, which occurs as a result of prolonged excessive exposure to the hormone cortisol (i.e. the steroids). I didn’t realise I had a hump, until reading aloud the symptoms of Cushing’s syndrome from Wikipedia – at which point Sally confirmed that, yes, indeed I did have a little camel hump. Only unlike for a camel it serves no useful purpose for me, not even as a small makeshift pillow for hospital waiting rooms.

In addition to my round face, I have lost my hair due to the radiotherapy. They said it might fall out, or thin, or do nothing (covering all bases there then). It started to fall out Tuesday last week – thinking it might just thin a bit, I tried to just get all the loose hair out in the shower. Putting wax in it after my shower resulted in very hairy palms. Wednesday I did the same, and tried again on Thursday – only that time there wasn’t an end to the loose hair, it didn’t stop coming out. As we were off to the Marsden I had to make the best of what was left – but I did look a bit mangy, complete with bald patches that merged with other bald patches throughout the day. So Friday morning we went at it with clippers and a razor, and took the lot off.

I am quite enjoying my new look – partly due to novelty value (probably not something I would have tried otherwise), and partly because I now have more reason to make use of a fine and varied collection of hats (not so much to hide it, more to protect my newly exposed scalp from the newly exposed sun). I do still find myself slapping shampoo on my head in the shower, before remembering that it’s no longer necessary.

The shaved head in conjunction with the round face does mean I now bear a striking likeness to the full moon. For a small fee I am currently available for any lunar-themed kids parties or events.

The vision situation hasn’t improved, and I managed (with some effort!) to get the doctors to admit that it probably now won’t. They said the steroids might help it – but once I pointed out that I have been on high dose steroids for the best part of a month, with no improvement, they admitted it was unlikely to return. Which isn’t great, but in truth if I get out of this with slightly impaired vision, I’d take that in an instant. I’m starting to learn to compensate for it and so it has been bothering me less of late.

The radiotherapy did take it out of me a bit last week – although not to the degree of ‘withering wreck’ (hopefully I am safe from having to eat those words). I didn’t feel too bad, but there was an underlying level of tiredness. This week my energy levels seem closer to normal, which is reassuring. The doctors also seemed sure that any reduced energy was due to the treatment, rather than anything more sinister.

And finally my back seems to be fairly stable at the moment, perhaps having even improved recently. I still can’t stand still in one place for a prolonged period without getting pains down the legs, but in terms of mobility I have been fairly active over the last few days, and it has given me very little grief.

So that’s enough about my physical state – what have I been up to over the last couple of weeks instead of blogging?

Well Monday last week I finally managed to get round to arranging the photography lesson (or to be more specific, ‘processing photos on Adobe Lightroom’ lesson) that I was forced to cancel on that fateful day when my head nearly exploded. A big thank you to John at White Light Photography (the same guys who did our beach photo shoot) who came round and spent two hours with me showing me how to organise and process my photos.

Armed with my newly acquired knowledge, I have been taking time to sift through my photos from the last year or so, and pick out and work on my favourites. Rather than just leave them on the computer for no-one to see, I’ve decided to set up a page to host them on Smugmug – if you want to have a look, I have added a link into the sidebar to the right of the blog, or click here > seebensphotos.smugmug.com

It has been great to finally take some time to make something of these photos. They’ve been taken over the last year since I bought the camera, but they have just been sitting on the computer doing nothing, with me never having the time to play with them or try and make the most of them. I still consider myself very much a beginner photography wise, but I am enjoying the experience of learning.

We were also able to arrange for my Dad to visit last week – which was very enjoyable. We managed to coordinate it so he could come along and see Saskia swimming – she was on good swimming form too, less focused on drinking the pool water this time, more focused on being good at swimming.

On the subject of Saskia, she has finally cracked the art of crawling – first managing it a couple of weeks ago. She’s not been off everywhere as we perhaps expected – but she is now able to deliberately move around when she wants to. She will purposefully move across her play mat when she decides she wants to get to something over the other side for example (sounds like there is some kind of ‘why did Saskia cross the play mat’ joke in there somewhere – I’ll work on that for my next post). Unfortunately for Pickle this means that placing himself just beyond her reach is no longer sufficient to avoid clumps of his hair being tugged – he now has to learn to use altitude to his advantage if he wants to sleep without keeping one eye open.

And the news I know you have all been waiting for – Saskia’s sunglasses have arrived! Given the rubbish weather, today is the first real opportunity we have had to try them outdoors – and as predicted it might take a bit of getting used to before she stops trying to take them off. But here is a picture from yesterday of her doing ‘a Bono’ and inappropriately sporting sunglasses indoors – I think you will all agree she looks pretty cool (far cooler than Bono anyway).

Cooler than Bono (and actually better at writing songs)

The other big focus of the last week or so has been researching and working on our all round, integrative treatment approach. Obviously the hospitals and doctors take care of the ‘conventional’ treatment (chemotherapy, radiotherapy, pain relief, etc) – but that is just one aspect of our approach to tackling this. We have been working toward an all round plan for some time, but it’s been slow progress given hospital appointments and just trying to stay on top of every day life given all that’s going on (I never realised how much admin having cancer can actually involve!).

But we seem to have finally made a breakthrough – both in terms of research avenues bearing fruit, and actually making the changes to our lifestyle. As mentioned in my last post, the news last week has also given us the kick up the arse we needed to actually take the difficult decisions that we need to.

You might have noticed that I am saying ‘we’ and not just ‘I’. That’s because Sally is being amazing and joining me in making many of these lifestyle changes, recognising that (particularly where diet is concerned) there’s no chance of me eating a bunch of cold salad if she is sat in front of me with lovely sausages and mash.

So what are we doing? I won’t go into all the details, but here’s the general idea…

Exercise

Every day now after breakfast I am doing two brisk laps of the recreation ground behind our house, which according to my phone is 2.5km / 1.6m – usually taking me half an hour. The morning is non-negotiable – but if I get time (depending on whatever else we are doing) I am aiming to do the same in the afternoon. So far I’ve managed both mornings and afternoons the last few days. After a period of inactivity given the brain situation it’s nice to get off the sofa and get some exercise. It really does make me feel better – obviously it’s good for me physically, but also mentally in the sense that I still feel I can get up and walk three odd miles in a day, without being hindered by my back, the disease, treatments, etc. That feeling helps contribute to the whole ‘keeping positive’ thought processes.

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Diet

So we are making some big changes to our diet – but sensible changes (we’re not going down the route of living on nothing but wheatgrass!). Sally has been incredible, throwing herself into online research and books about cancer and nutrition (after my CT scan Thursday she busied herself in the nutrition and food section of Waterstones, while I had a forty-five minute nap in one of their comfy armchairs – I did fully expect to get ejected from the store, given that I looked like a moon-faced hobo with half a head of hair who had just gone in for a sleep, but I was left alone). She has identified foods for us to try and reduce or eliminate, and foods for us to try and increase our intake of. Again, I’m not going to go into massive detail (because it’s probably really quite dull for the rest of you) – but essentially what we’re doing is this;

  • Dramatically increase intake of fruit and particularly veg, to eight portions a day minimum (especially raw stuff – salads, etc).
  • Incorporate juicing into our diet – by this I don’t mean fruit juices from Tesco, I mean buying a juicer and juicing raw fruit and veg as a way of getting concentrated nutrients into our diet.
  • Reduce red meat (now only allowed as a treat when eating out).
  • Reduce animal proteins in general (but not eliminate entirely – like I said, sensible approach!).
  • Dramatically reducing sugary treats and snacks (chocolate, biscuits, ice cream. etc).
  • No alcohol – this one I am doing alone. I haven’t drunk for about two months, and at a time like this I just don’t feel like it. So watching Sally have the odd glass of wine is no problem for me.

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Mind

Basically this involves reducing stress and trying to incorporate relaxation techniques and times into our daily routine. So we’re being careful about over committing ourselves, simplifying things like how we managing our finances, and have started to incorporate meditation daily.

It has to be said, meditation is far harder than I thought it might be – I always thought it was easy to switch my brain off (generally if I sit still for more than ten minutes I fall asleep). But it has been proving far harder to empty my brain of thoughts than I expected. Even so, I think it is still beneficial to just stop for a period each day, and take some time to just do nothing – and as we get better at it the benefits should only increase.

This section also includes positive thinking, visualisation, and some other areas we haven’t yet explored – such as hypnotherapy, psychotherapy, and music therapy. Of those three I’m not sure if hypnotherapy is for me. Psychotherapy possibly – it has been offered, but so far this blog has pretty much been my psychotherapy, so I haven’t gone for it. That’s not to say at some point in the future I won’t. Music therapy I think I could definitely go for, being a big music fan. I used to listen to music in the car, but now I can’t drive that’s not happening anymore. For the first time in a long time I am listening to music as I type this – Guns n’ Roses. Right now I am thinking that Guns n’ Roses should definitely form a much larger part of my treatment program going forward (old Guns n’ Roses, not so much new Guns n’ Roses).

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Herbs / Supplements

So there are a number of substances that have shown possible promise in fighting melanoma – sometimes in human trials, other times with lab grown cancer cells or animal trials – and many of these are available as nutritional supplements. Don’t get me wrong, we don’t expect any of these to be a sudden miracle cure, and one could spend a fortune if one wanted to on everything that had at some point been rumoured to have a benefit. But some well placed and targeted research has thrown up a few things of interest.

An important question is whether or not to take these while undergoing the conventional medical treatments, should they cause any interactions or interfere with the action of the chemotherapy or radiotherapy. So I haven’t been taking anything so far – but now I am in a period of no conventional treatment, this avenue does become an option.

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So there we go – that’s an insight into our integrative approach. It is going to entail some difficult choices – personally the diet aspect is going to be the hardest for me. I have asked numerous doctors about diet, and the answer I generally get is that I should go home, and eat what I want (although with an emphasis towards a balanced diet). Which always leaves me wondering whether I really should eat that Easter egg, or leave it well alone. On the one hand you have the doctors telling you diet won’t make a difference, on the other hand there seems to be plenty of credible evidence that diet can help in your fight.

So who to believe? I’d like to believe the doctors, and just eat pizza every night followed by Easter eggs for dessert – but when the stakes are this high, I think it makes sense to hedge your bets on the eating healthily side. Let’s face it, as long as we are sensible and don’t go on any mad ‘fad’ diets, it’s not going to do me any harm – and if it does help will have been well worth it.

Right, that’s about it for today I think – thanks for reading.

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by | April 30, 2012 · 11:59 pm

Why me?

Evening all – I thought it was about time I gave you an update on the last few days…

In truth, they have had their ups and downs. I have been struggling to adapt to my lack of vision – becoming increasingly frustrated with my general loss of function and coordination. I seem to only be able to operate at half the pace I used to. Meanwhile, general household life continues around me at its usual tempo – baby, meals, tidying, shopping, etc – leaving me feeling at best like a spectator, and at worst just in the way.

Each day I wake up with a list of things I’d like to achieve – and in most cases achieve very few of them. My reduced dose of steroids lasted all of a day – Saturday morning was spent lying in bed with a headache. So I went back up to a dose midway between the new and previous dose, which seems to be keeping things stable for now, and is at least a reduction of some kind.

The lowest point came Friday afternoon, as I walked down our street, and straight into the wing mirror of a parked car – I felt like an idiot. So I continued walking along, smouldering to myself as I contemplated what had just happened.

A few paces later, I walked straight into the wing mirror of a parked van. Needless to say this second incident did nothing to alleviate the frustration and embarrassment of the first.

It didn’t hurt that much (physically at least), but it hurt my pride. For someone who generally considers themselves a pretty coordinated person – enjoying the odd turn on a mountain bike or skateboard – the sudden inability to navigate a quiet residential street without walking into successive parked vehicles is quite frustrating.

The worst part of it was (and I’m ashamed to admit this, but this blog is supposed to be all about being honest) is that I found myself asking Sally why she didn’t see I was about to walk into the van. Which is obviously ridiculous – if I haven’t yet figured out what is in my vision and what isn’t, then how on earth is Sally supposed to know!? I knew it was wrong straight away, and apologised immediately – but still felt bad that I had let my frustration get to that point.

So undoubtedly the last few days or so have had their moments. However, I woke up this morning determined to try my level best not to let this get me down or feel sorry for myself. Things could be worse – I still have most of my vision, and I still have all my other senses and faculties unaffected (at least no more than normal!). I am endeavouring to manage my situation, and when it does go wrong, laugh instead of getting angry. As I discussed in my very first post, keeping a positive attitude is only going to do me good in this fight – getting down and negative will just compound my problems.

Which brings me onto something I have been wanting to discuss on the blog for a while – maintaining a positive outlook. But first of all, I want to share a picture with you all, taken from the cover of the Royal Marsden ‘Progress’ magazine. Now for the celebrity / royal fanatics out there, the picture does contain Kate Middleton (or whatever her married name is now), but I want you to look at the other person in the picture – yes, sometimes there are other people in pictures of her too – and no, I don’t mean William, or even Pippa Middleton…

I first saw this picture about six weeks ago – I was in the CT scan waiting room of the Royal Marsden, waiting to have a scan of my head to find out if there was any cancer in there, and therefore whether or not I could go on the clinical trial previously mentioned. I knew that the next day I’d be back in the hospital, either being told I had the opportunity to receive what could be the next big thing in melanoma treatment – or that no, I wasn’t allowed to have that, and by the way there is cancer in your brain (we all know what happened by now).

So it’s fair to say there was a lot riding on this scan, and I felt suitably tense. As I sat there nervously waiting to be called, my eyes fell upon the picture on the front of this magazine – and suddenly my own problems didn’t feel so important any more.

I was looking at a picture of a child… a child that didn’t look a great deal older than Saskia… a child with cancer…

I’ll be honest, the picture made me cry, due to a whole range of emotions. I felt sadness, as I pictured that child being Saskia, reaching out to me, and imagined how terrible it must be as a parent to see your child, the most precious thing in your life, ill with cancer. I felt anger and despair, that anyone gets cancer, but especially a child.

Most of all, looking at this picture put my own situation in perspective – I resolved that I was not going to feel sorry for myself, or indulge in self-pity. Having cancer is undeniably scary, and the treatments themselves are often scary – but I thought if that little child has to go through this ordeal, then why shouldn’t I have to?

It’s a bit of a cliche, but unfortunately cancer doesn’t pick ‘good’ or ‘bad’ people, or just land on people who ‘deserve it’. Twice recently I have heard cancer patients (one old, one young) asked if they wondered “why me?”. In both cases the response was the same – “why not me?”. As much as we’d all like to construct a rational case as to why some people get cancer, you just can’t. Cancer isn’t rational, or logical – it just happens.

The picture above also brought home to me that in actual fact I have a lot to be thankful for. Sure, I don’t want cancer (wish I could find the receipt), and I’m statistically unlucky to get it at my age – but still, I could have been statistically unluckier (i.e. younger). I have had some amazing opportunities in life – a fantastic family; great friends; an amazing wife and wedding day; and now the most magic thing of all, Saskia.

Sally and I have been so lucky with our little girl. We were blessed to discover we were going to be parents only a month or so after making the decision to ‘go for it’ (at least there is one part of me that’s healthy!), and were fortunate enough to have a relatively uncomplicated pregnancy. It’s not lost on me that we were very lucky – and given my current circumstances, I am immensely grateful for that.

Now don’t get me wrong – I am aware this might be beginning to read a bit like a “it’s all ok, I’m satisfied with what I’ve achieved in life, I’m off out of here” post. Which couldn’t be further from the truth.

What I am trying to say is that yes, having cancer is crap. But it is so important to remember the things in life that you have to be grateful for – because they are out there. Each of these positive things is another reason to fight, and not to accept this disease – and fighting with your focus on the positive things in life has, to my mind at least, got to be the best way to fight.

Over the last couple of months I’ve had a lot of wonderful feedback, containing words like ‘brave’ and ‘inspiration’ – which has been so very moving and motivational, and has helped me stay positive. However I’ve come across many other people in similar situations (in hospitals, via other blogs, on tv, etc) to whom those words are equally applicable. In fact every other cancer patient I have come across has shown amazing strength and courage, and been an inspiration to me – from people dealing with cancer late in their life, to the little child in that picture having to deal with it so early.

So there we go – apologies this post was a bit of a heavy one, but I felt the time was right to share something that had a profound impact on me, and also pay tribute to the attitude and strength of all the others out there going through similar experiences.

For tomorrow, as a reward to you all for making it through this post, I have some happy Saskia news and photos for you.

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by | April 27, 2012 · 7:53 am

Treatment Update, Update

Just another quick update to let you all know what happened yesterday.

So we went to see the consultant at Canterbury Hospital, who had a look at my scans and did a few physical checks to test brain function – stand on tip-toes, with your arms out, twirling your fingers, kind of thing (like you might see police asking suspected drugged drivers to do on ‘Police, Camera, Acton’, should you be into that).

The conclusion seemed to be that yes, my vision is certainly impaired, but beyond that everything else in there seems to be working pretty much as normal – which is good to hear.

They also advised that I reduce my dose of steroids, to just enough to keep the symptoms under control – which will be a bit nerve-wracking at first. On the plus side, it should hopefully reduce the desire to eat everything in sight (increased appetite being a side effect of steroids). Although I must admit to having very much enjoyed eating everything in sight.

The actual radiotherapy itself is pencilled in to begin on the 10th May – which is later than I expected to be honest. However, there are as yet unknown variables in there, such as whether or not I have the third cycle of chemo next week, which will depend on CT scan results. If no chemo, then radiotherapy could be brought forward.

So it’s still a bit up in the air. I will have to get in touch with the Marsden anyway to let them know I can still make my scan appointment next week, so will see what they say about the chemo, and go from there.

A good thing is that Canterbury seem fairly relaxed about overlapping the chemo and radiotherapy. Which I am pleased about – I seem to have been tolerating the chemo pretty well, so am happy to go for both.

That’s about it for yesterday’s news – will write more soon.

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by | April 23, 2012 · 10:41 pm

Treatment Update

Evening all.

Just a quick update to let you know what’s happening with my treatment – we finally have a plan (well, somewhat!).

So we heard from both the Royal Marsden and Canterbury Hospital today – I will be having the radiotherapy locally, so as to save traveling to London day after day. In all other aspects the treatment will be the same between the two hospitals, so this makes sense – especially given the predicted side effects.

However, before we can begin in earnest I need to have an appointment with the consultant at Canterbury, so he can plan the treatment properly. Early indications suggest it’s all a bit more complicated that just turning up and having your head irradiated (which is actually very reassuring). They have to look at the scans, then calculate power, angles, and other things I don’t fully understand right now. Apparently some patients even have to have a special mould made for them before they can start (I expect they will probably want to do this for me to protect my incredible looks).

So I am due in on Thursday to begin that process – then the treatment itself should begin shortly after.

In some ways I was hoping it would be earlier – I guess when you have cancer it’s natural to want to hammer it as hard and as quickly as possible. But on the other hand, it is a bit of a reprieve – as I explained previously, it was the timing of all this brain stuff that was most upsetting. I had a whole list of things I wanted to do before I found myself wiped out and too tired with this treatment, so at least I now have a few days to get a move on.

While we wait then I continue with the steroids and painkillers to keep the symptoms under control. Speaking of symptoms, no real changes there to report – occasional head pressure still (but under control with painkillers), vision still rubbish (no better, no worse).

Today I actually left the house for the first time since Thursday – we decided after the last few days we would treat ourselves to lunch in town (ASK again). It was so nice to get out, and away from either the bed or the sofa, where I have almost exclusively spent the last few days. Although I did feel like a complete liability trying to navigate pavements, roads, traffic, lamp posts, and pedestrians (with umbrellas – the worst kind of pedestrian) with my limited vision.

When sat in the living room my vision now means I have to sit on the right-hand sofa, so that my good eye faces into the room. If I sit on the left-hand sofa it doesn’t really feel like I am sat in the room – my field of vision mainly encompasses the cupboard under the stairs (which while a nice cupboard, is hardly the highlight of the room) and I hear ghostly voices of the people sat to the right of me, who I can’t actually see. Which is very weird – I hope this sorts itself out soon.

Before I finish I just want to say another couple of thank yous…

Firstly to Sally, who decided yesterday that she would cheer me up by taking herself into town (in the pouring rain) and surprising me with some new clothes. She chose very well, every one was a hit – highlights included some nice shirts, and a Guns N’ Roses t-shirt.

And secondly to my Mum, who is still here and helping us out with Saskia, around the house, and just generally looking out for us. With me currently next to useless (or worse, a liability) we just couldn’t do this without another pair of hands.

Right, that’s about it for now.

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by | April 21, 2012 · 10:50 pm

About library books then…

Firstly, sorry it’s taken me a couple of days to write – things have been a little up and down since my last post.

So yesterday morning I woke up with no improvement in my vision, but thankfully no head pain. I spent most of the morning in bed, dozing and watching the F1 practice sessions. The vision problems made being up and about so awkward and disorientating, that it just seemed easier to stay lying down in one place. Dosing myself up to the maximum on codeine also probably played a part in my inertia.

Then mid-afternoon we got the call from the Marsden with my scan results. As has been fairly typical of my recent ‘result getting’, they weren’t what we would have wanted to hear – which would have been something like this…

“Good news, the cancer’s gone!! Your headache was just cancer withdrawal symptoms. You’ll be over that in a few days, then back to work with you on Monday. Hurrah!!”

Instead, the scan showed that the disease in the brain had unfortunately progressed.

While not great news, we knew this would probably be coming at some point – the reason being something known as the blood-brain barrier. Now I won’t pretend to have a detailed understanding of how this works, but essentially it seems to be there to protect the brain from certain things in the blood (bacterial infections for example). So obviously it evolved for a reason, and has a useful purpose. However, in my case I would be grateful if it would take a little mini-break, and just sod off for a few months – because it also happens to be preventing my chemotherapy treatment from reaching the brain metastases.

This is one of the reasons that the news that the cancer had spread to the brain was such a blow. It meant fighting the battle on two fronts – the brain, and the rest of me. Each front requires a different treatment, each with its own side effects – and usually these treatments are not given at the same time, so as to spare the patient the cumulative side effects of both treatments together. Now I’m not a military strategist (except on the Xbox now and then) but it seemed to me that by fighting on two fronts, and only allowing yourself to fight one front at a time, you are putting yourself at a disadvantage.

But again, this is what the Marsden do – and they have their reasons (like always, based on evidence and logic). And I’m sure that to compare fighting cancer to playing a game of ‘Command and Conquer’ is a gross oversimplification on my part!

So anyway, back when the brain mets were discovered, as I was asymptomatic the doctors decided to focus on treating the rest of the disease, and to just keep an eye on the brain for the time being. In two weeks time from now (at the end of my second chemo cycle) I was due to have another scan, and they would weigh up what was going on where, and what to do next.

The events of the last few days have changed all that. The plan now is that next week I begin a course of brain radiotherapy. Unfortunately due to the spread and position of the brain mets, targeted radiotherapy is not currently an option. So I am going in for ‘whole brain’ radiotherapy – which is a prospect I find a little daunting to be honest. Most of my life I have become familiar with the idea that radiation and brains are best kept separate (primarily based on a passion for submarine films, usually involving nuclear reactor leaks of some sort). So I am a little nervous.

It sounds like the treatment is likely to be given over a course of five days, and will come with side effects including feeling wiped out, nausea, skin problems, and hair loss. Which will be interesting – I guess I will finally start to look like a cancer patient (at least I might then feel able to sit in the ‘priority for people who can’t stand’ seat on the tube without people thinking I am a fraud).

So that news came as a bit of a blow yesterday – although more due to timing than anything. I had been hoping to make it through the next couple of weeks until the next scan before we started having to think about all this. But it seems cancer was not paying attention to the schedule (I think I’ll have to have a quiet word).

Getting back to yesterday afternoon then – almost exactly as I got that news, I felt the pressure in my head coming on again – perhaps psychosomatic, perhaps coincidence, or perhaps because I had got all cocky and halved my dose of codeine. It wasn’t the crushing headache of the day before, but I feared that was where it was headed – so I spent most of the remainder of the day trying to lie as still and quietly as possible, to try and keep it under control (not helped by a screaming, teething baby who didn’t want to go to sleep).

And that is exactly how I have spent most of today – lying in bed resting, watching F1 again, and willing the pressure in my head to subside. Which, around mid-afternoon, it finally did – and I felt well enough to come downstairs, eat dinner, and write this post.

I’m currently still on a whole cocktail of drugs – steroids to reduce inflammation in the brain, paracetamol, codeine, etc. There is still no real improvement in my vision, which was starting to worry me. Although we spoke to our local hospice today (who specialise in pain management and symptom control), and they advised that it could be Sunday or Monday before the steroids really start to kick in. Hopefully the subsidence in pressure this afternoon is the start of that, and my vision will return soon. They also gave me some liquid morphine, in case I get more pain that the codeine won’t control. It makes me feel safer to know I have the next step in pain control in the house ready, just in case I need it – rather than needing it in the middle of the night and not being able to get it.

So there we go. I also want to say a massive thank you for all the messages I have received over the last few days – via the blog, e-mail, text, Facebook, etc. I am sorry I haven’t been replying, but the headaches and vision problems have left me limited for time, energy and typing accuracy (especially on a smartphone keypad!). But the messages I received all meant a lot, so thank you. I will try to reply soon.

Wow – I just realised that after writing the title of this post with the best of intentions, I got distracted by all this cancer stuff, and haven’t written anything at all about library book filing systems. It’s pretty late, and I’m quite tired now, so I think I will have to give it a miss. A big sorry to anyone who waded through all this cancer stuff, only to feel misled and disappointed by the content of this post.

I’ll try and make it up to you tomorrow.

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by | April 19, 2012 · 10:20 pm

That interesting post I mentioned…

I didn’t really expect to be writing on the blog today to be honest. Today was supposed to go something like this…

Wake up, and have a lazy morning. Then in the afternoon Sally and Saskia were due to go to a little ante-natal group party, while I had a quiet afternoon at home, incorporating a lesson from a photographer in how to post process my photos on the computer. So while a nice day, not exactly ‘interesting blog post’ material.

What actually happened bore very little resemblance to that. But before I go into detail I have to explain a bit of background context – some of you will know this already, some not. And I’m not really sure how to put it, so I’ll just say it – the cancer has spread to my brain (boo hiss!).

I actually found this out a while ago, just before I started the blog. In my first post, when I mentioned that I couldn’t go on the second clinical trial ‘due to the location of my cancer’… well that was why. Most clinical trials prohibit entry to patients with brain metastases. I don’t really remember why, and probably don’t want to know. But by agreeing to go on that trial I consented to having a CT scan of my brain, which showed multiple metastases (albeit small).

Obviously this was very hard to hear, and for one reason or another I didn’t really feel ready to disclose this news openly on the blog at that point in time. I’m not really sure why – perhaps I needed to come to terms with it myself first; or perhaps I just felt that this, on top of all the other news, was just too depressing a way to start the blog. Also, at that point I was asymptomatic (i.e. had no physical symptoms of the brain mets). So I decided to hold on to that news for the time being.

Well, as of today, I am no longer asymptomatic – what actually happened today was this…

Woke up at about 6am. By about 6:30ish I had developed a crushing headache on the left side of my head, like nothing I have ever experienced before (although I rarely suffer from headaches). I am already on paracetamol for my back pain, so couldn’t take any more of that – but I remembered that I had some codeine in a drawer, prescribed by my GP a while back in case I had any more attacks of stomach pain (mentioned in my first post). So I took the maximum dose of codeine I could, led back down, closed my eyes, and just waited for it to take effect. Which eventually, it did. After an hour or two the pain started to subside, and I think I dozed for a bit.

When I woke up and tried to get out of bed, I realised that something else was wrong – my vision wasn’t quite right. After much waving of my hands in front of my face I established that I was missing much of the peripheral vision in my right eye. If I held my right hand directly ahead of me, looked at it, and then moved my hand to the right (whilst still looking directly ahead), I only had to move my hand 10 to 20 degrees before it disappeared entirely from view. The same experiment with my left eye and hand showed I could still see my hand in my vision when it was out at 90 degrees, parallel with my shoulder.

I knew at this point that the brain mets were now playing up, and this wasn’t just a headache. We had been told that they could cause swelling and inflammation in the brain, resulting in headaches, vision problems, and possibly causing me to have a fit (an experience I am really not looking forward to). So we decided to phone the doctor at the Royal Marsden. What ensued was a flurry of calls between the Royal Marsden, my GP surgery, and Canterbury Hospital.

I was immediately prescribed steroids to try and reduce any swelling and inflammation. The Marsden also wanted an urgent CT scan of my head, but were happy for me to have this locally, rather than make another trip into London. A few more phone calls later (and a bit of clarification as to whether urgent meant ‘within a week’ or ‘today’) and I was called into Canterbury Hospital at half an hours notice for a CT scan of my head.

So Saskia was collected and sent on her way to her party as a temporary orphan, while Sally and I were kindly driven by a friend (also called Sally) to Canterbury for my scan. After a bit of waiting around, my scan was completed and we were driven home.

We don’t yet have any news on the scan results – they were being sent up to the Royal Marsden, and we are expecting to hear tomorrow. Assuming the scan shows just some swelling, I continue taking the steroids. If it shows ‘anything else’, we take a ‘different route’. I’m not really sure what ‘anything else’ and ‘different route’ involve at the moment.

So there we go. I’m currently sat on the bed, resting, typing, and quaffing steroids, paracetamol and codeine. The headache has mostly gone (or is suppressed by the painkillers), but there is a lingering sense of it. My vision is still not really improved – so far today I have walked into a hospital trolley, our sloping bedroom ceiling, and a door (repeatedly). Also I have stepped on the cat. It really is amazing how inconvenient it is – I keep losing items that are placed slightly to my right, because they just don’t appear in my field of vision.

I am sincerely hoping that I wake up in the morning able to see properly again, and preferably without a skull that feels like it wants to explode – I can do without all that.

Before I finish, I want to write a bit about the decision of whether or not to have the brain scan required for the clinical trial – just for the benefit of anyone reading this who might ever have to make a similar decision. When weighing up the pros and cons of the trial, we discussed this a lot. The Royal Marsden tend to adopt a policy (for melanoma at least) of not scanning the brain unless a patient actually shows symptoms of brain mets (even though melanoma commonly spreads to the brain). Which might sound strange, but everything they do is based on sound logic and reason. I’m not going to try and explain that logic or reason, as I don’t consider myself aware enough and don’t want to risk misrepresenting them.

We questioned whether or not we wanted to know if the cancer was in the brain and to what extent – were we setting ourselves up for another fall? What could be done if it was found? We were warned that if the scan showed anything, I would no longer legally be able to drive. In the end we decided that the clinical trial was ‘the fighters choice’, and therefore accepted the brain scan as part and parcel of the entry requirements.

As it turned out we did get bad news – and it was tough to deal with. However, I am glad we made the decision that we did. Today has been a crap day, that’s for sure – but at least we knew it could be coming, and so were slightly prepared for it. We had already dealt with the news, so today has just involved dealing with symptoms. I cannot imagine how much worse today would have been if we’d had to deal with the realisation that the cancer was in my brain, at the same time as having to deal with the first arrival of symptoms. We knew very early what was up, and were able to act quickly – as were the various medical professionals involved. Another advantage is that the Marsden have a scan from a month ago to compare this latest scan against.

That doesn’t mean this decision would be right for everyone – we’re all different. But I just wanted to offer an insight into our particular experience – an insight which would have been useful to us back when making the decision ourselves.

Finally, some thank yous; to all the medical staff involved in organising and carrying out my treatment today; to Sally for driving us to and from the hospital and remaining on standby should we have needed to go to London; Caroline for being on Saskia standby this morning; to Janine for collecting Saskia, and all the NCT girls for looking after her; and to my Mum for driving up here at short notice to be on standby should we need to go to London tomorrow.

Right, so there we are. I’ve learnt an important lesson today – never promise to make your next post interesting, because you might get what you ask for. In fact I hope my next post is complete and utter tedium – perhaps about the finer points of how libraries organise their books on shelves, and the intricacies of those little labels with all the numbers and decimal places on the spines of the books.

Sorry for any typos or errors – but as I can only half see, I’m sure you will let me off.

P.S. In the midst of our flurry of phone calls this morning, Sally’s phone died (awesome timing!) – she could see she had received some texts, but could not read them. Subsequently this afternoon it appears to have given up the ghost entirely. So if anyone wants to contact Sally please be aware of that. Currently via e-mail, landline, or me are the best options. I will post again when we have it sorted.

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by | April 3, 2012 · 10:13 am

That difficult third post…

Hi,

(ok, so I know the phrase is supposed to be ‘that difficult second album’ – but I’ve already written my second post, so it’s too late for that. And under the circumstances, I think I will allow myself the small pleasure of misappropriating the odd phrase for my own purposes)

So it’s been just over a week since my treatment. In terms of side effects, a few more came on over the weekend. Started to feel a little grotty Friday evening, and felt dead tired Saturday (and a little ‘not with it’ – not dissimilar to being hungover).

I was worried for a while I was developing a chest infection / fever – which would have been bad. I have a little yellow ‘this patient is on chemotherapy’ card from the hospital, which lists the circumstances under which I immediately have to go to A&E, including high temperature, flu like symptoms, etc, etc. I didn’t really want to go to A&E, not on my first cycle at least! But fortunately with some early nights and resting, it didn’t materialise into anything significant.

My back has been giving me grief over the last few days – as mentioned in my first post the lesion on my spine is giving me sciatic pains down both legs. Not sure what’s made it worse the past few days – I think I slept awkwardly Friday night due to not feeling well; or maybe it just seems worse as a result of being a bit more sensitive to pain in general the last few days (a chemo side effect I assume).

Sally has been amazing (as ever), doing the vast majority of the Saskia work (entertaining, changing, bathing, feeding of porridge, removing of porridge from nose, ears, eyes, hair, etc) while I rest to help my back recover. Hopefully it will improve soon and we can share the load a little more evenly.

All that makes it sound like the last few days have been terrible – which I should stress isn’t the case. On Friday the three of us had a lovely sunny alfresco lunch at ASK (courtesy of our Tesco Clubcard vouchers – guilt free lunch tastes even better). And I’ve even begun venturing back into social situations – met with some NCT (ante-natal) friends Friday afternoon, and spent some very enjoyable time with friends Saturday and Sunday.

The last few days have also brought more acts of kindness and generosity. We’ve had a hamper full of goodies, offers of financial support, been treated to lunch, and plenty more messages of support and goodwill. I also received a collection of Daniel Kitson (stand up comedian) material to watch – which is good and very timely, as over the last month I have exhausted Stewart Lee’s (another stand up comedian) entire back catalogue. My recent routine has been something like this…

Go to hospital, get told you have cancer… go home, watch a Stewart Lee DVD to take your mind off it…

Go to hospital again, get told your cancer is worse… go home, watch another Stewart Lee DVD to take your mind off it…

And so on…

I wonder what will happen if (or thinking positively, ‘when‘) I go to hospital and get good news? Perhaps I’ll feel the need to come home and watch a documentary about cancer, just to keep myself on an even keel psychologically.

Right, I think I will leave it there for now – thanks to all those who have viewed the blog so far, and sent feedback and messages of support as a result – it’s been very encouraging.

I think I will try to make the next post about Saskia, for a bit of a change / light relief. Going swimming with her this morning – should be fun.

P.S. If any of you want to receive blog updates automatically, there is a button near the top right called ‘follow’. Click here, enter your e-mail address, and it should e-mail you whenever I make a new post, to save you checking back and finding nothing new.

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by | March 28, 2012 · 10:35 pm

The beginning of a journey…

Welcome.

I never really thought of myself as someone who would keep a blog – to be honest I couldn’t think that my life or opinions were interesting enough to warrant documenting for the world to read. I could have ranted endlessly about the Daily Mail, but that would have got boring after a while (for you I imagine, probably not for me).

But in the last month or so things have suddenly got a lot more interesting, but unfortunately not in a good way – I have been diagnosed again with cancer.

Some of you may know my history – almost 5 years ago I was found to have a malignant melanoma (a form of skin cancer) on my left shoulder. I was 27 years old, otherwise generally healthy, and had never been near a sunbed in my life. The odd bit of sunburn as a teenager while prancing round Cornwall trying to become a surfer, but nothing major.

It was surgically removed, and after a lot of debate (for about six months) between doctors as to whether it had spread, I was given the ‘all clear’ and sent home.

Two years later it was detected in a single lymph node under my left arm. I was promptly back in for surgery, and had all the lymph nodes from my left armpit removed. Some more scans later, and I was again given the ‘all clear’ (albeit qualified with ‘as far as we can tell’).

The three years since then have been characterised by worries about recurrence, trips to various hospitals for scans and biopsies on various innocent lumps and bumps, and wondering whether I was becoming paranoid and beginning to annoy the doctors with questions about lumps on my testicles.

So in January this year, when I started to develop some lower back pain, I worried about cancer. But I told myself I was being paranoid, and put it down to having a new baby – lifting her up, hauling prams in and out of cars, bending over doing her bath and changing nappies, etc. So much so that I nearly didn’t mention it at my six monthly check up at the Royal Marsden (for those who don’t know, generally ace cancer hospital in London – one of the best places in the country).

In the end I did mention it, just in passing I hoped…

“Bad back? No, that won’t be cancer, probably something like a new baby or something”.

“Great, thanks Doc, see you in another six months”.

Unfortunately the conversation didn’t go quite like that. An MRI on my back and a CT of the rest of me later, and in late February I was told it was back, and had brought friends to play this time – on my spine, in my liver, lungs and spleen (what does a spleen actually even do?).

This news obviously came as a massive blow, and the weeks since then have been a real roller-coaster (and I don’t like roller-coasters!). I won’t bore you with all the details, but in short I had just picked myself up from the knock of the initial news, when I got more bad news – I couldn’t go on a clinical trial of a promising new drug as my melanoma didn’t have the right gene mutation.

Ok, pick myself up and get positive again, there’s another trial I can go on. Except that a week later (last week) I was the told I can’t go on that one either due to the location of my cancer – another blow to pick myself up from. The only treatment option available to me (at present) is the standard chemotherapy treatment for melanoma.

So that’s where we are. I started chemotherapy treatment Monday (two days ago). One silver lining of being on the standard treatment is that it is apparently relatively well tolerated. The infusion of the chemo only took about an hour, into a cannula in my arm. And other than a slightly foggy feeling and a few hot flushes on the train home, since then I have felt fine. No nausea, tiredness, sickness (they give you anti-sickness meds). There might be other side effects to come later in the cycle (each infusion and the following weeks leading up to the next infusion is known as a ‘cycle’), but so far so good.

Then in three weeks I am back in for my second infusion of chemo . Three weeks on from then I have another scan. If the chemo is working then I carry on for another four cycles – if not then I come off it and we try something else.

To be honest after all the trips I have had to London in the last month or so for scans and results it’s just nice to know that I don’t have to go back for three weeks.

So there we are – cancer has motivated me to become a ‘blogger’. Why?

Well in all the turmoil and upheaval of the last month it’s been difficult just keeping on top of everyday life – Saskia, the house, etc (fortunately I am currently signed off work). In the course of all that I have been relaying the news to various people – but I knew there were many good friends who I had not come across in day-to-day life who had no idea what was going on. Hence, the ‘blog‘. I figured this would be a great way to disseminate news and keep people up to date, without me having to say / type the same thing again and again – and for people to follow my progress, leave messages of support, etc (or abuse if you feel that way inclined).

Don’t worry, I’ll try not to make it all about cancer. I’ll put in nice stuff as well – news and photos of Saskia, other photos, and just general news of what we have been up to. The cancer is the motivator for starting this blog, but will not be the sole focus. It’s important to focus on the positive as well.

Speaking of positive – despite all the recent bad news and stress of the last month I am remaining fully positive that I will beat this. As far as I can see that’s the only way to fight this battle. Not long after the first set of bad news, I came down with a chest infection. Then a few days after the bad news about not being able to go on the first trial, I had several attacks (spread over four days) days of an excruciating stomach pain, lasting hours at a time – so bad that the first time I ended up going to A&E in an ambulance at 4am in the morning. The doctor in A&E, my GP and my gastro nurse put these stomach pains down to excess stress due to the cancer diagnosis.

While horrible at the time, these experiences were a clear demonstration and reminder of the effect that the mind and mental state can have on physical well being. If I get down and depressed my body will give me even more crap to deal with. So I figure I can turn this to my advantage – by keeping a positive attitude I minimise both mental and physical stress, hopefully minimise chemo side effects, and put myself in the best possible state of mind to beat this.

There is every reason to stay positive – there seems to be nothing to be gained by sinking into negative thoughts.

Right, I think I will end this post here. I have (believe it or not!) more to write. I haven’t yet touched on the amazing support and generosity we have received from family and friends in the last month.

But it’s late, and I’ve written a lot today, so I will continue tomorrow.

Bye for now.

P.S. This blog is also heavily inspired by a similar blog kept by a guy called Ezra in New York, who has been fighting colon cancer (hopefully, it looks successfully). It would be wrong of me not to credit him for his inspiration, so for anyone who wants to take a look, I have copied the link below. It’s a great read, and he is a wonderfully honest and funny writer (as well as good photographer, bike builder, and cook). So I would fully recommend it. You might also pick up some decent recipes! Thanks to Dan Morse for directing me to his blog.

Link > http://www.fastboycycles.com/teachingcancertocry/

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