The journey has all but ended. I’ve recently been quite lazy with my updates for no real apparent reason. The last time I wrote I was over the moon, having just received news that my tumour reduced in size. A great accomplishment I must admit. I have just come off another round of chemotherapy and have been feeling quite good, despite the toxins.
Cancer is a tough one. When I was first diagnosed, my doctors informed me that I needed a very strong support network. I did, and I still have one. What the doctors or other people I have met failed to inform me was that cancer can also tear a person’s world apart. Not just in the obvious way. Relationships fail, and friendships dwindle. The constant pain, the drugs and discomfort to normal life can be brutal to someone with cancer.
After a few months of constant fighting I decided to walk away from my two and half year relationship with my partner. It was one of the hardest decisions I think I’ve made to date. Leaving the one you love isn’t easy. I could have stayed, but the end result would have been the same. Many times in life we do things that aren’t the best for us. I was discussing this with a friend recently, how we continue to move forward yet not entirely for ourselves. We stay in relationships or workplaces because it is comfortable or because we don’t want to enter the unknown. It isn’t fair. Not on anyone to do so. So I left. I packed up my things and walked away. The void of a loved one is there but, peace of mind has returned. No longer am I worried about what the day will bring. I am focused on my health and getting better. It’s selfish, but it is what’s most important right now.
A relationship falling apart I can understand, but friendships dwindling aren’t so easy to accept, (as friendships don’t usually have the same strain as a relationship). As we all know friendships just like relationships require effort from both sides. Sometimes friendships fall apart when someone enters a relationship, (the so called relationship cave) but it is hard for me to understand how one can fall apart because of cancer. I will be the first to admit that I don’t really make an effort with friends anymore. It is just too hard. Between doctors’ visit and treatment there really is only one thing on a patients mind. Most people in my life understand this. They make the effort. They come and visit; they make dinner arrangements and pick me up when I am unable to drive. For these people I am eternally grateful. It is because of you that I leave the house some days. If you didn’t make all the effort I would just be lying in bed. The others however, call on the rare occasion. Make small talk and I never see them. They get angry when you don’t call. They get angry when you are unable to get out of bed. I understand cancer can be scary, but why not be scared with me?

3 Months is a long time… Over the past 3 months there have been many changes. For starters I finally have good news! 3 weeks ago I was told that the tumour, which has over taken my body and my life, has begun to shrink. After nearly a year of chemo and radiotherapy and drastic diet changes, it has begun to shrink. And not by a small amount. A 73% reduction in its size. 73%! It feels like everything that I have been through; the throwing up, the pain, the treatment and the crap food is starting to pay off.
I have been off chemo now for about 3 weeks and I have never felt better. I’m going to the gym and working and living a so-called normal life. The crap food is still a major part of it, but I feel there is no real reason to go back and eat a lot of junk food that could work against me. I have told everyone of this amazing result and for a while there I started to feel that I didn’t have cancer anymore. But the truth is I do. A 73% reduction is amazing but that still means that a substantial amount of it is still in my spine.
The next plan of attack is MORE chemo! I can’t say that I’m surprised really. Doctors still believe that this is the best thing. Pushing more and more toxins’ into our bodies.

No change. That’s what the doctor said. There is no change. It isn’t worse but at the same time it isn’t better, He held up my scans and it was exactly the same. After an extra 3 months of chemotherapy there is no change.
The doctor wasn’t totally bummed, he was happy that it hadn’t spread and he was ready to give out another dose of chemo. There is talk of having a thing implanted into my body to give me a daily dose of chemo. But if that happens I would be bed ridden almost certainly and the chances of living a so-called normal life will go out the window. No more work, no more going to the movies or watching my sunsets. I’m told to do everything in my power to stay positive…

When I heard the news I smiled for the doctor. I went and collected my medication for the week and made an appointment to have more chemo. As soon as I left the hospital I fell apart. I cried like a baby on the side of the road. I’m at a point where I don’t know what to do next. Doctors seem to just want to inject more crap into my body and it just makes me so weak. It makes me not want to get out of bed. It makes me want to run away or crawl under a rock. Life just doesn’t seem like life anymore. My partner keeps buying and reading books to help me deal with cancer. To help me eat well to help my body fight. It’s strange, that with all these people around me I’ve never felt more alone in my life.

I recently came across this passage in a book I was reading;
That is why it is so important to let certain things go. To release them. To cut loose. People need to understand that no one is playing with marked cards; sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. Don’t expect to get anything back, don’t expect recognition for your efforts, don’t expect your genius to be discovered or your love to be understood. Complete the circle. Not out of pride, inability or arrogance, but simply because whatever it is no longer fits in your life. Close the door, change the record, clean the house, get rid of the dust. Stop being who you were and be who you are.

Autumn has begun to set in here in Sydney. The air is crisp and cool. The need to wear a light sweater or cardigan is there once again. It’s nice to be able to feel the change in seasons even though there is as yet no change to my condition.
During this time of me having cancer I have tried my best to keep my life as normal as possible. I go to work when I can; working minimal hours and days does help. I go for my morning walks and still manage to be the upbeat person I have always tried to be. This week however the side effects from chemo have been probably the worse yet, and being at work doesn’t help at all! My body creaks like it is in need of some WD40 and there are extra liver spots each day.
But I keep being told to have hope. Be positive, and try not to let everything get to me. For the most part I think I’ve done quite well. But I just want to run away. No no, fly away, far far away. I want to be in North Africa. Trek through Libya on the back of a horse all the way to Spain. Stop off in Morocco and for once again be just me. I don’t want to be a boyfriend, a brother, a son, a friend, a colleague, a teacher or a person with cancer. I just want to be me. I know that all these things come together to make me who I am, but I just want to be free of them. For the most part having cancer isn’t the worst thing. Its what comes with it. For days now the side effects have been getting worse and worse. Its strange that now that I’m off chemotherapy for a few weeks, that my side effects get worse. It’s as if my body had become so accustomed to them, it needs them. Like a drug. I’ve always had an addictive personality but this is beyond normal. Even for me.
I have just finished reading another amazing book. A dear friend of mine said that, with all this time on my hands, the only thing to do is to grow mentally and learn. So that’s what I have been doing. Reading and learning. Sitting in chemo or in bed and reading. I have just completed another book, which moved me to my core (it doesn’t take much these days). The underlying message was to forget the past and live now. Life is too short for anything but love, and when we live in the past we focus less on giving love in the present. It really annoyed me, as right now sure, I am supposed to be living in the moment trying to get better; but I love looking back at all the memories and people who have made my life what it is.

One more session. One more session, that’s what I keep telling myself. There is always an underlying fear that this isn’t going to end. It’s going on 9 months now and it doesn’t seem that anything is getting better.
Chemo is a bitch. Forget the vomiting and the bleeding. Forget about the weakness and not being able to move or function properly. It’s the feeling of the Chemo in my body. I feel it. I know it’s in me. From the moment I sit in that chair and they attach the paraphernalia to me, I can feel it. I hate it. It’s cold and I feel it spreading in my veins making my body sicker than it already is. But this they tell me is what is going to make me better. I lay awake at night wondering how something that kills everything in your body is supposed to make you better.
I have tried a few treatments. From radiotherapy to stereo- tactic radiotherapy and now chemotherapy. It’s amazing that in 2010 the only real options we have to treat cancer are ones that kill everything in the process. I’m told to be aggressive with my treatment; but how much more aggressive can a person get. One more session.
I don’t know where this is all headed. I know nobody out there really knows what the future holds, but this is somehow different. Its like the imminent feeling that death is approaching.
But I hope and I pray (something I haven’t done that often). I pray that I will live to see another day. I pray that in two weeks time I get good news. I pray that I get better. And not only for myself. For my family. For my partner. For my friends. The ones who call, message, email, the ones who visit me in hospital and hold my hand as I walk down to the car. The ones who sit by me on the sofa rub my head and tell me that everything will be ok.
I’m always thinking why me? Why did I get cancer? Why do I have to go through all this? But until recently I didn’t think; Why me? Why is everyone I love and care about so attentive and always there? I may have cancer and I may die, but I feel so lucky to have the people I do around me. Even if they are an ocean or two away, I’m blessed to have them in my life…

I finally did it. I told my mother. Now I guess there are many variations on the truth and with all the pressure from close friends and family I guess it was time I told her. I didn’t tell her everything. I couldn’t. It may seem selfish not to have told her for so long but I just couldn’t look her in the eyes and inflict this pain on her. After 8 months I told her. I told her that I had just found out I had a tumour in my neck and that it was small and that it was totally treatable. She was upset, obviously. But she was strong and she handled it well. I’m not sure how she would have handled it had she known the full truth.
A part of me is really glad she knows what she does. At least she wont be surprised if I end up on life support. A prospect, which seems not unlikely. The past week or so has been quite difficult. I haven’t been to work and I really haven’t been off the sofa. (It’s not all bad. We have had such terrible weather here in Sydney that staying at home under a blanket isn’t that bad.) I went to my doctor almost every day and all he could say was that it’s just a part of the treatment. I should have been weak from day one. But I’m not letting it get to me. It’s easy to get overwhelmed. And overwhelmed I have been.
I have found a new past time, one which I adore. I remember a dear friend of mine. Whilst we were in Taiwan she used to finish her afternoon classes and go sit on her rooftop. She was in love with the sunset and that used to fill her day. I used to laugh at her thinking what was the point. Now things have changed. I get up early to watch the sunrise and I sit and watch the sunset over the hills from the rear balcony. I do it and think of her. I think of the times we spent together thinking we were fooling everyone else.
Having cancer has its perks. It opens eyes. It forgives. It lets the past stay in the past. I don’t want to be a hypocrite, but I guess I got to learn from this. Learn to mellow out. Learn to love. Learn to forgive. And above all learn to be myself

Today is not such a good day. One of the first things I was told by my oncologist was that once I start the chemo I would have good days and bad days. Little did he know I was already bordering on bipolar. I must admit there are some good days, but the bad seem to be outweighing the good lately. At first it was the coming to terms with the fact that I had cancer. But it’s not that anymore. The pain is all too constant. It’s hard to walk like a normal person. It’s hard to stand for more than 2 minutes. And today, it’s hard to breath. Its days like this that I hate the most. I start to feel sorry for myself. I beg and plead and ask why me? What have I done to deserve this? People close to me tell me that there isn’t a reason. That I, must learn from this and become stronger. Fuck that! I hear it all the time and anyone who has been through anything slightly traumatic would tell you the same thing… Fuck that! How many times have we all been broken hearted and then told, ‘oh well they weren’t the one for you’ blah blah blah! It doesn’t help the healing process. Finding a rebound does. Now if only I can find a rebound for my cancer!

My uncle died. He died at the age of 52. He died without me getting the chance to say goodbye. He died of cancer.
When I was first diagnosed with cancer, the first doctor I saw asked me if I had a family history of any type of cancer. I told him no. (At the time my brain wasn’t really functioning.) Doctor number 2 asked the same thing and again I replied with a no. Doctor number 3 asked again. And well the same response of no. Now that I’m up to doctor number 8 I think I should change that answer of no. My grandfather died of lung cancer all the way back in 1997. My uncle died last week of liver cancer and my grandmother has leukaemia. So yes. Cancer is in my family I guess.
Going to my uncle’s funeral was an effort all itself. I haven’t spoken to anyone on my father’s side of the family in nearly 3 years (My fathers brother was the one who died). I didn’t know how my father would react to seeing me, or how my aunts and uncles would react. It was frightening. As I approached the funeral parlour I started to shake. I wasn’t able to walk on my own. I instantly thought to myself ‘What a great time for my legs to go out!’ I called over to my little brother who helped me out of the car and walked with me. I saw my father and he just ignored me. Fine! I wasn’t there for him anyway. After seeing him I regained control of my legs. Ah it was just nerves. Phew!
After the service and on my way to the cemetery I began to feel really selfish. Here I was, supposed to be grieving for my uncle and all I could really think about was my own mortality. Did I have much longer? Will I soon be buried next to him? I didn’t want to think it, but I couldn’t help it.
As the coffin arrived I broke down. Right there in front of my father. I was showing emotions in public and I really didn’t care. I cried for my uncle. My uncle who I hadn’t seen in 3 years. For whom I never answered his calls because I was so angry with my own father. I cried for myself. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want this cancer to be the end of me. I didn’t want to go out like that. Frail and weak.
I pulled myself together and drove off with my sister to visit my grandmother. I hadn’t seen her in about a year. I visited her when I first came back to Australia, but never went back in fear of seeing my father. I was not prepared for what I saw. Yes she had just lost her son and had leukaemia but…….. All her hair was gone. She had the same liver spots as me, only worse. She had a walking stick like me, but seemed to need it more than I did. I saw what could be my future and I didn’t like it at all.

Appearances. From a very young age my siblings and I were all taught and told to keep up appearances. As a child I never really cried. If I needed to cry I would just go into the shower or sit in the laundry on a Friday afternoon as the washing machine went about its business. My father told me that crying was for the weak and showing any kind of emotions in public (except those of utter happiness) was just unacceptable. So now, while going through this ordeal, trying to keep myself alive I feel as if I have hit a brick wall. I try to keep up my daily routine as much as possible. I push myself to go to work and put 100% into each and every day. I come home and push myself to be the good boyfriend. I visit my mother and push myself to be the good son by mowing the lawn and painting the bathroom. I go to friends’ birthday parties and dinners out. I smile for the camera and never let on that something is up. Inside. I have friends who call me or email me telling me that I look real healthy and happy on my facebook pictures. My doctor tells me its great I haven’t lost any of my hair yet. That I’m one of the lucky ones.
Lucky ones………………. Since when do keeping up appearances and being lucky go hand in hand? Wearing big glasses so people don’t see the blackness in my eyes. Sitting out in the sun to get some colour, so people don’t see how pail and green my body has become. How is this lucky? Is this a form of denial? Have I not accepted the fact that I have cancer and may very well die?
If hiding how sick I am on the outside was working, hiding how much pain I was in wasn’t. The daily ritual of getting out of bed and getting dressed for work takes almost an hour in itself. That’s not including breakfast. The hardest part is getting out of bed or having the strength to even walk up those stairs to make something to eat. My partner isn’t usually home when I get up as he starts work at an ungodly hour (6am). Some days the pain gets the better of me and I make that call or text message to my boss informing her that I wont be coming in to work. I hate doing that. I hate disappointing people. Today wasn’t such a bad day considering. I made it out of bed and even did a full day of work. Came home and sat by the pool (wearing sunscreen of course) and hoped and wished that the sun could cover up some of my liver spots. Or my green veins that seemed to cover my arms and legs.
Anytime someone asks how I am doing; a quick knee jerk reaction of ‘I’m great!’ comes out. I don’t know why. I guess people are happier hearing that and not ‘I feel like shit! I wish I was in bed!’

Another day has come and gone but this time with some relief. After speaking extensively with my doctor about the price of all these “new” procedures it seems that the hospital finally listened to my pleas for help. They are paying for everything and I don’t owe them a cent. How ironic. Here I am. My body as I know it eating away at itself and all I seem to worry about is the money.
Yesterday I said that I was done with doctors and that I wanted to do this on my own. Naturally. After speaking to with my best friend, I have concluded that I can’t. Or was it him telling me he won’t let me. Wow! Here I thought I was in charge of my own life. I can understand his concern. If the tables were turned I guess I wouldn’t let him seek alternative medicines. But he just doesn’t get it. Nobody seems to understand what is going on in my head. Ah my head. I’ve always been a person who was too much inside their own head. Always thinking too much. Over analysing every single word that comes out of people’s mouths.
The pain is all just a little too much today. I have always known of people who complain of bad back pain and such, but I don’t think anything could compare to this. I’m told on a regular basis that I am lucky to be walking. Lucky to be breathing on my own and of course lucky to be alive. This afternoon as I went in to see my doctor I had a thought. How is it with modern medicine being what it is they can’t operate on me? Why was it such a high-risk procedure? It always works out on TV! As I sat down in the chair by the doctor’s desk he looked at me and said what he says every time I see him. ‘I can’t believe that you’re walking. I just really can’t believe it’. It always makes me so mad and confused when he says these things to me. Did he want me to be in a wheelchair? Was he preparing me for what was to come? Am I meant to be on high alert waiting to collapse at any moment? All I could do was smile and ask for my weed. I don’t care what anyone calls it, medicinal medical marijuana. Its weed! I don’t really know if it is having any effects on me, but I guess in some ways it does relax me and help me sleep.

Log # 1

7 Months and 4 days into this ordeal. Nothing seems to be getting better. The cancer is still growing and my bank account seems to be shrinking at the same pace. I’ve heard a lot about having a support group. A family to help you through the process of dying I guess. I seem to be alienating everyone in my life. My mother is still unaware of my condition (although she does sense that something is defiantly wrong), I keep a fair distance away from my siblings as I cant look them in the eyes anymore. Two of my closest friends I keep pushing away, telling them that I am doing fine and they have nothing to be concerned about. Lastly would have to be my partner. He probably knows least of all. I can’t get myself up to telling him exactly what is going on. 7 months into it and I refuse to let him come with me to the hospital. Not for anything. Not for tests. Not for results. Not even for the treatment that is eating away at my body. I don’t know why that is. He has seen me cry and he has been here for me from the beginning, yet a part of me doesn’t want him to be here. I don’t want him to have to deal with any of this. He never signed up for this when we first stated dating 2 years ago.
There are days that go by that I refuse to look into his eyes. Days like today. He realises something is bothering me and asks…. But how am I to tell him I wish I had never met him. If that were the case then he wouldn’t be here dealing with all this.
At the moment my 3 tumours in my spine (to this day I still can’t remember the correct name of them) Up till a few days ago there was also concern for what seemed to be a tumour at the top of my neck, which might be the reason why I have been forgetting so many things. After a recent biopsy the tests came back. It was benign. A huge relief. But when I screamed at the top of my lungs in happiness all those around me where shocked as they had no idea about the tumour in the first place.
After 7 months of treatment. From Radiotherapy and chemotherapy, to a new procedure called stereotactic radiotherapy. It seems there is nothing modern science can do to cure this fucking thing in my spine! But life goes on and after quite a few months feeling completely sorry for myself I have decided that the doctors can all go fuck themselves. Through lots of research and talking with people with cancer I have concluded that I need to get this disease out myself. A total change in everything I have ever done. A change in diet. A change in personality and attitude. This is a war. And it isn’t like any other war. I’m not fighting for love or a good job. I’m fighting for my life and I can’t afford to lose this battle.