Ain't no mountain high enough

In an ill-conceived burst of energy I hiked up a mountain in Wales on the weekend. The big sort where you need to use your hands to pull yourself to the peak, all the while contemplating how fractured your spine would be if you fell. There is nothing like risking life and limb to make you appreciate how grateful you are for not dying from cancer. I know that logic sounds twisted but it works in my head. It was great to do something strenuous and physical, and I was surprised how my strength is slowly returning. It would have been impossible to do that sort of thing a few treatments in, so I guess my body is getting to used to the chemo. In a strange coincidence it turns out my oncologist has booked a trip to hike exactly the same mountain with his tennis buddies. He says he'll use my example to motivate/tease any of his friends who are lagging behind on the climb. 

I had chemo number 10 yesterday, and it went pretty smoothly. My neuropathy (nerve damage in the fingertips) is becoming more of an issue and we're considering dropping the dose a little. I've been told it's getting to the point where it may become permanent, and I could lose some fine motor skills. A life being unable to incessantly text and play angry birds is not worth considering. Also, I'd struggle with doing up the buttons on my shirt and so would have to go around dressed like Tom Selleck most of the time. 

The C word

Lately I've been noticing how people tend to avoid using the word cancer around me. Why is this? They ask 'how is your health?' or 'how is your medical condition?' Friends, I'm fairly certain that saying cancer doesn't give you cancer. You're not going to hurt my feelings either. It's not like I don't think about cancer all day, every day as it is, so you won't unintentionally remind me that I'm sick. "OMG - did you just say cancer?! Great, thanks. I totally forgot that I have that. Jerk." It's perfectly okay to talk to me about cancer, and you can use that word as a noun, adjective and possibly even a verb if you are clever enough.

Anyways, yesterday was chemo treatment 9. Three more to go after this. You know what's a really weird side effect of chemo? Ultra vivid dreams. Dreams so realistic you wake up and are shocked to find you're not actually leading a convoy of escaped zoo animals through London to freedom or, as admittedly improbable as it sounds, you are not actually making out with Scarlett Johansson in your parent's backyard. If you are getting chemo and are experiencing this side effect I would strongly recommend that you do not watch 'The Road' before bedtime because that is going to guarantee a pretty restless night.  

Are you feeling lucky, punk?

Alright. Decision has been made. I met with the radiologist to discuss getting radiotherapy to mop up any extra cancer cells that might still be floating around. We laughed, we joked, but mostly we talked about dying. Getting radiation reduces the chance that the cancer comes back. With the chemo I've already had, plus one month of radiation treatment, I stand a 94% of being Hodgkin's free, forever. Nice. The drawback is that I have a fair size mediastinal mass close to my coronary arteries - in layman's terms that means the monkey face bastards have set up shop right next to the ol' blood pumper. Even though modern radiation treatments are pretty targeted, I would still receive a significant dose to my area near my heart, as well as to the blood vessels in my neck. This means a greatly increased risk of heart disease and stroke later in life, as well as a considerable risk of secondary cancer in the lungs from the radiation. It also means probably losing my thyroid gland. I'm not really sure what this does but it must be important. Ronaldo has a messed thyroid and it made him fat, so much so that the fans started shouting 'el Gordo' at him. Poor Ronaldo.

Avoiding the radiation means going for another 4 treatments of chemo, and the risk of a relapse goes up, to 14%.  It's a tough call really, should I accept a small increase in risk now for a more healthy outlook 20 years down the road? How are you supposed to make these sorts of choices at 35 years old? I'd much rather be thinking about physics, or sandwiches. I asked the radiologist for advice and he quoted Dirty Harry to me. "Are you feeling lucky, punk?" I suppose I am, since I decided to skip the rads and go with the chemo. 86% seems like a pretty good gamble, but I guess only time will tell if I got this one right.

Chemotherapy round 8: We're all fine here now, thank you. How are you?

I had round eight of my chemotherapy today and everything was okay. No weird reactions. No overnight hospital stay. The french onion soup they gave me was terrible, but I can live with that. 

Anyways, I've been doing lots of research into radiation versus no radiation for early stage Hodgkin's. I have to give Dr. Follows the decision about my treatment by next week. It's a tough one. I haven't made up my mind yet but I did stumble across this amazing story about a Russian physicist who stuck his head in particle accelerator. I've always wanted to know what this does to you, and I salute you my Russian colleague. Apparently his brain was exposed to about 200,000 rads - you can see where the beam entered near his nose and exited out the back of his head in the picture. As a comparison, a chest x-ray gives you about 0.001 rad, and usually 500-600 rad is considered fatal. Although some of his skin fell off, and he suffers seizures, he managed to make a full recovery and is still alive 25 years later! The interesting thing is that the side of his face where the radiation beam travelled through hasn't aged! How cool is that? New fad celebrity facial treatment?