Having read so many blogs for other people with multiple myeloma it seems most have a story as to how it was discovered. My discovery is no different and fate played a hand for which I will be forever grateful. There is a saying afterall that fate is God's way of staying anonymous.
I remember my 'discovery' very clearly. The previous evening had been one of such joy, the birth of our son Jack Michael at 11:48pm. Nothing compares with the strength and courage that I saw from my beautiful Sara that day!
Having returned home sometime after 3am that evening after the birth I woke early and shot off to play a semi final of real tennis (a very addictive game which I was getting into and the fact that Lord's has a court makes it so convenient). My partner Mike Griffith and I had not played together for that long but to date had not lost a match, more his skills than mine I'm sure. I had a slight 'strain' in the top of the thigh/pelvis area and warmed up carefully however on the first point stretched and was in agony for the rest of the match. I effectively stood in a corner hardly able to move, making painful and feeble attempts to return shots, whilst Mike darted all over the court. His efforts took us to a final point decider which in many ways was fortunate that we lost as there was no way I could have competed in the final. I apologised profusely and in hindsight should have stopped trying to play but the words of David Boon, from decades ago, still rang in my ears.
When I played cricket with Boonie his philosphy was to never give up, if struck by a bouncer in the head, do not go down. He reasoned that if you go down you never get up. That has always been instilled in me and have therefore always continued to play on no matter the problem (broken ribs courtesy of Geoff Lawson was one painful occasion).
At the end of the semi final I hobbled home, showered and went off to the hospital with Maddy and Campbell to collect Sara and Jack. What a pathetic sight I was, hobbling in and out of the hospital, they must have thought I was the patient. To make matters worse I could hardly get into or out of bed during those sleepless nights that accompany a new baby. I had promised Sara faithfully that I would do my share and wanted to do so but I simply could not help.
After two months of pain and hobbling pathetically around (having seen physios etc) the doctor suggested I have a scan as I may require, what was thought to be a muscle tear, sewn. This is where my cancer story begins.
One Friday morning I went for a MRI scan. Early that afternoon my GP called and asked to see me before close of business (or close of play as we say at MCC). Hmm I thought, must be a bad tear, perhaps I need to get it sewn straight away... thought it bloody hurt. As coincidence would have it, as I took the call walking around the ground, Sara just happened to be coming the other way. She sensed I am sure that all was not well and decided to visit the GP with me.
That afternoon my GP (who is a terrific guy by the way) informed me that I severe bone deterioration in my right leg (upper), pelvis and lower spine. That was what was causing the pain. He said this would be one of three things either a secondary cancer, bone cancer (one in a million!) or something else that was not too serious. Sara and I ruled out bone cancer as a one in a million shot is just not on, secondary cancer was a worry as that meant I had cancer somewhere else but the likelihood was still that all was fine.
The next Tuesday I had a PET scan and heaps of blood tests. The PET scan was interesting and amazing. Radioactive sugar is injected into the blood. Cells 'consume' the sugar and this shows up on the scan. The cancer cells are larger and therefore consume more sugar. These show as a brighter green. The are some really clever people in the world. As an aside one thing that doesnt help is when they give you a CD to take home and view. When we placed it in the PC my body lit up like a chrismas tree. There was green everywhere! I thought at that moment I was gone!! Fortunately that was not the case and the cancer cells were in the pelvis, leg and spine but more of that later.
I rang my GP the following afternoon (as I had notheard anything), once again Sara by my side. He said all the results were not in but it was clear for the secondary cancer (ie the scan had not detected and cancer of major organs). 'Phew! The bones we talked about are still a 'little dodgy' he said and I am waiting for the blood tests.
The next afternoon we visited my GP. Sara waited at recepton with Jack and my GP proceeded to give me the news. You have multiple myeloma, bone cancer. I will never forget that moment, nor will I forget Sara's face as I came out of his office. She can read me like a book. I wanted to just get out of the surgey and tell her outside which I did but she knew before I told her. I, like Sara was shocked and also to be honest in a daze. This doesnt seem right. How can this happen to me. Having said that, as I type this I have a hickman line (tube coming out of my chest), have done 4 months of chemo, my hair is falling out and my stem cell transplant is scheduled for tomorrow and I STILL in some ways just cant believe it.
From that moment however I consider myself lucky. I may have been one in a million shot to get it at my age but I am young enough to take the treatment, they caught it early so it had not spread everywhere. I have also had the most incredible support from everyone and to be honest feel quite well despite all the treatment etc.
I remember my 'discovery' very clearly. The previous evening had been one of such joy, the birth of our son Jack Michael at 11:48pm. Nothing compares with the strength and courage that I saw from my beautiful Sara that day!
Having returned home sometime after 3am that evening after the birth I woke early and shot off to play a semi final of real tennis (a very addictive game which I was getting into and the fact that Lord's has a court makes it so convenient). My partner Mike Griffith and I had not played together for that long but to date had not lost a match, more his skills than mine I'm sure. I had a slight 'strain' in the top of the thigh/pelvis area and warmed up carefully however on the first point stretched and was in agony for the rest of the match. I effectively stood in a corner hardly able to move, making painful and feeble attempts to return shots, whilst Mike darted all over the court. His efforts took us to a final point decider which in many ways was fortunate that we lost as there was no way I could have competed in the final. I apologised profusely and in hindsight should have stopped trying to play but the words of David Boon, from decades ago, still rang in my ears.
When I played cricket with Boonie his philosphy was to never give up, if struck by a bouncer in the head, do not go down. He reasoned that if you go down you never get up. That has always been instilled in me and have therefore always continued to play on no matter the problem (broken ribs courtesy of Geoff Lawson was one painful occasion).
At the end of the semi final I hobbled home, showered and went off to the hospital with Maddy and Campbell to collect Sara and Jack. What a pathetic sight I was, hobbling in and out of the hospital, they must have thought I was the patient. To make matters worse I could hardly get into or out of bed during those sleepless nights that accompany a new baby. I had promised Sara faithfully that I would do my share and wanted to do so but I simply could not help.
After two months of pain and hobbling pathetically around (having seen physios etc) the doctor suggested I have a scan as I may require, what was thought to be a muscle tear, sewn. This is where my cancer story begins.
One Friday morning I went for a MRI scan. Early that afternoon my GP called and asked to see me before close of business (or close of play as we say at MCC). Hmm I thought, must be a bad tear, perhaps I need to get it sewn straight away... thought it bloody hurt. As coincidence would have it, as I took the call walking around the ground, Sara just happened to be coming the other way. She sensed I am sure that all was not well and decided to visit the GP with me.
That afternoon my GP (who is a terrific guy by the way) informed me that I severe bone deterioration in my right leg (upper), pelvis and lower spine. That was what was causing the pain. He said this would be one of three things either a secondary cancer, bone cancer (one in a million!) or something else that was not too serious. Sara and I ruled out bone cancer as a one in a million shot is just not on, secondary cancer was a worry as that meant I had cancer somewhere else but the likelihood was still that all was fine.
The next Tuesday I had a PET scan and heaps of blood tests. The PET scan was interesting and amazing. Radioactive sugar is injected into the blood. Cells 'consume' the sugar and this shows up on the scan. The cancer cells are larger and therefore consume more sugar. These show as a brighter green. The are some really clever people in the world. As an aside one thing that doesnt help is when they give you a CD to take home and view. When we placed it in the PC my body lit up like a chrismas tree. There was green everywhere! I thought at that moment I was gone!! Fortunately that was not the case and the cancer cells were in the pelvis, leg and spine but more of that later.
I rang my GP the following afternoon (as I had notheard anything), once again Sara by my side. He said all the results were not in but it was clear for the secondary cancer (ie the scan had not detected and cancer of major organs). 'Phew! The bones we talked about are still a 'little dodgy' he said and I am waiting for the blood tests.
The next afternoon we visited my GP. Sara waited at recepton with Jack and my GP proceeded to give me the news. You have multiple myeloma, bone cancer. I will never forget that moment, nor will I forget Sara's face as I came out of his office. She can read me like a book. I wanted to just get out of the surgey and tell her outside which I did but she knew before I told her. I, like Sara was shocked and also to be honest in a daze. This doesnt seem right. How can this happen to me. Having said that, as I type this I have a hickman line (tube coming out of my chest), have done 4 months of chemo, my hair is falling out and my stem cell transplant is scheduled for tomorrow and I STILL in some ways just cant believe it.
From that moment however I consider myself lucky. I may have been one in a million shot to get it at my age but I am young enough to take the treatment, they caught it early so it had not spread everywhere. I have also had the most incredible support from everyone and to be honest feel quite well despite all the treatment etc.
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