In December of last year I recounted my transplant experience from September onwards and although at the time I was reassured that I'd come through the worst of what was to be expected, I was still very uncertain about my health and the immediate problems I would be facing returning to normal life.
The last 5 months have flashed by and luckily, with only a few minor complications to complain about, the Epstein-Barr Virus and Shingles being the most note-worthy. I have been steadily rebuilding my rebooted immune system and in the process I have become stronger and undertaken greater challenges. I came out of hospital after my transplant severely underweight and now through taking care of what I put in my body and regular exercise I feel like I am returning to the person that I was before the relapse.
I was waiting for something significant to occur before admitting to myself that I was heading in a positive direction. I made a few trips to visit friends at University in Plymouth and Durham, but my week with Shingles mentally knocked me back a few steps as I had to spend a week on anti-viral and anti-biotic drugs in hospital. However, during that time an opportunity presented itself to me that I was very interested in. The Teenage Cancer Trust was enquiring as to whether any former patients in the South West would raise money for the charity via the form of a sponsored Skydive and luckily for me, the airfield was only 40 minutes from where I lived. I put my name forward with expectations that it remained highly unlikely that after only 2 weeks of being finished with the last of my immunosuppressive drugs, I would be allowed to make the 10,000 foot jump. To my amazement, my Consultant deemed me able-bodied enough to take part, although he did remind me that in his years working as a Doctor it was unprecedented for someone only 6 months post-Bone Marrow Transplant to want to attempt anything like this.
Undeterred, today at around 1pm I found myself almost 2 miles above the ground with not a single butterfly in my stomach as the door to the plane was pulled open and I sat with my legs dangling over the side of the aircraft. 11 months ago I was lying in my hospital bed losing weight daily, beginning my cycles of intense chemotherapy and today I was fulfilling a dream I'd had for a very long time with the liberating realisation that very very little can scare me anymore. Although I wasn't nervous, the adrenaline was definitely pumping and I will never forget tumbling out towards the ground in free fall and looking up at the plane flying back into the clouds, it was a rush that I've experienced very few times in my life but I hope not for the last time!
I'm hugely grateful to every single person who made today possible for me, from my ever supportive family to the doctors and nurses who've rebuilt me. I'm especially appreciative to all those who donated to my Just Giving Page and if anyone feels so inclined to donate who hasn't already, then I've left the link at the bottom of this post.
Not so long ago I didn't think that it would be possible to feel the way I do right now. I'm pleased to say that for me cancer hasn't been the end of a normal life as I genuinely thought for a very long time was the case. It's been a long and seemingly impossible process and I'm sure that I'll have many more challenges to come in my future, but I'm now definitely on the up metaphorically and maybe literally as well, because worryingly for my parents, I think I've found a new hobby!
https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/willsmith96
Sunday, 15 May 2016
Thursday, 31 December 2015
Progress
My last post was written in September, just a few days before I was to have my bone marrow transplant and at the time I was very scared of what was to come, but now feels like the right time to write an update on how everything panned out.
The transplant process began on September the 24th and as expected the chemotherapy caused the usual side effects of vomiting and lack of appetite. This was then followed by high intensity total body irradiation for five days. I'd never experienced radiation before and it wasn't great. The process only lasts for about twenty minutes per session and I had been told that compared to the chemotherapy it was far less unpleasant. However, I experienced a rare effect whereby I could taste when the irradiated beams were aimed at me. This is not uncommon in radiation localised to the throat or mouth but was not something I was forewarned of, as even the Radiographers had not met someone who had encountered this sensation during the full body (and less concentrated) process. The taste was truly bleak, a mixture of pumpkin and metal and it stayed with me for hours afterwards which added further struggle to eating properly.
A major side effect of the radiation is an incredibly sore mouth, one which makes it nigh on impossible to eat. Due to the fact that I had already been eating less leading up to the transplant, it was decided that I would have a Nasogastric tube inserted into my nose and down into my stomach so that I would have access to food at any point and hopefully not lose too much more weight. Again, this was pretty uncomfortable and involved a lot of dry wretching but it didn't take long for the line to be put in. Incidentally I didn't get any symptoms of a sore mouth and vomited up not one, but two of these NG tubes which left one end hanging out of my nose and the other out of my mouth. Joy.
The stem cell infusion itself began on the 2nd of October and at the end of day five of radiotherapy. I was to have twelve bags of my donors bone marrow (which I'm told is a lot) over the course of about five hours. It was an underwhelming five hours in truth, after being hooked up to so many I.V.'s in the two months leading up to it, the donor's marrow could have just been any other blood transfusion in the end. My Mum, Dad and sister stayed with me the whole time which stopped me freaking out, I'd been alone in hospital many many times before, but that night felt of greater importance than any other and I needed my whole family around me. The next day was when all the trouble began...
My poor physical response to the chemotherapy meant that the doctors were deeply concerned that my terrible immune system would mean I would get a life threatening infection. Therefore, it had been decided that if any family members were a match with mine then they would donate their Granulocytes (white blood cells) to me to help fight off infection in the first two weeks of transplant. Happily both my Mum and my sister were matches and both offered to donate. However, it was only weeks afterwards that I discovered that there were some potentially very grim consequences of donating these white blood cells and although I don't want to go into these consequences on here, suffice to say that both Mum and my sister were incredible not to hesitate to donate for me.
Meanwhile, on the second day of my transplant I had awoken feeling very under the weather, understatement of the year. Being in isolation on the bone marrow unit was different to the TYA unit as nurses were checking up on me as regularly as a couple of times an hour. Therefore, it didn't take them long to notice that my already low blood pressure was dropping rather worryingly lower. Optimal blood pressure is about 120/80mm/HG, by the time I was moved almost comatose to Intensive Care my blood pressure was 56/28mm/HG. Although I was barely conscious initially, once in the ICU I had regained full awareness of my surroundings...unfortunately. I already had a Groshong line in my chest to allow for I.V.'s to be pumped into me, but the doctors in ICU needed more access to my blood vessels to give me more treatment. As such, I was completely awake when they cut slits into my neck on both sides with a scalpel and inserted a further five tubes into various blood vessels as well as one into my wrist. At this point my Mum and sister were donating the aforementioned Granulocytes in South Mead Hospital on the other side of Bristol so were being updated by my Dad over the phone until their donating was completed, which left everyone feeling powerless. I was in ICU for four days with a nurse not leaving my side for even a minute! Mum spent almost all the hours of each day with me and undoubtedly they were some of the hardest we had to get through. However, get through them we did. I was effectively strapped to my bed and to complicate matters I didn't even have control of my own bowels, Mum would have to lift me off the bed for me to urinate or defecate and if I'm being honest most of the time I was so weak, slipping in and out of consciousness that I'd more often than not miss the bed-pan anyway. I look back at those days with astonishment, words can't really describe the sheer respect I have for my Mum. She was phenomenal and took everything in her stride as if this was all normal. Everything she did was to make my life just the tiniest bit easier, it's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't experienced that complete debilitation, there was absolutely no shame or embarrassment when she would help me dress or clean me because I was too ill and broken for those things to be a necessity. I now find that seeing these words in writing is quite crushing, being at home recently has meant that these events have faded to what feels quite a distant memory and I've taken for granted how much better life is now.
After having the lines from my neck removed in ICU, I returned back to isolation in the Bone Marrow Unit in the Haemotology Centre. I received the Granulocytes donated by my Mum and sister and infection was warded off. The doctors kept saying that they were looking for a rash on my skin called GVHD which would show them that my donor's marrow had grafted into my bones and on approximately day 11 this rash appeared at Grade 1 level (the lowest). This led me to having to use some mild steroid cream to prevent the spread of said rash and once it had disappeared I was free to leave on day 22. In total I spent about a month in isolation and I wrote a lot of my thoughts down in a book at the time and kept myself busy with YouTube and reading familiar books. My family were allowed to visit me in hospital but because I was so susceptible to infection I wasn't allowed many visitors at all. The one thing that did break me was the food. Hospital food completely wore me down, especially as I was/am on a "clean diet" meaning that all my water is boiled and I can only eat from a very strict list of foods. Boiled water was warm and so in the end I stopped drinking, in the last two weeks of hospital I would get all my nutrition from Weetabix and all my fluids from the left over milk in the bowl. When I left the hospital I weighed a meagre 56kgs in comparison to the 78kgs I weighed when I first arrived and so I've spent the last three months attempting to put on weight.
In the time that followed I was still visiting the hospital at least twice a week and staying in a room provided by the charity CLIC Sargent with my Mum a short walk away. We filled the days with walks and short trips out but had to steer clear of lots of people and busy public places but around day 50 I noticed another rash breaking out on my skin. The doctors diagnosed a very low Grade 1 GVHD again and yet in two days it had covered 86% of my body and developed to Grade 3! This led to lots more tablets being needed as well as various creams having to be applied until it was all under control.
In comparison to the months beforehand, November and December were fairly subdued until I managed to contract an infection from a splinter of all things, on December the 20th just 3 days before my sister's 18th birthday. However, with 14 extra tablets to take a day the infection was brought back under control and I've had the longest break from hospital in 6 months, a whole week and a half off! Gradually the doctors have let me have longer and longer trips back home and as I said earlier this has led me to taking things for granted far more than I'd like. I'm ashamed how quickly I've forgotten how much worse things could be.
The last few months have been fairly nightmarish, often terrifying and at one or two points I've flirted with death. Yet through all this I couldn't have managed without my my friends and even more importantly my family. My transplant still has a 50% success rate and I don't really know how long I'll be taking tablets for, or what infection I'll pick up next, but I know do know one thing, it's so important to take the most pleasure out of life when possible, because it can all change so quickly.
The transplant process began on September the 24th and as expected the chemotherapy caused the usual side effects of vomiting and lack of appetite. This was then followed by high intensity total body irradiation for five days. I'd never experienced radiation before and it wasn't great. The process only lasts for about twenty minutes per session and I had been told that compared to the chemotherapy it was far less unpleasant. However, I experienced a rare effect whereby I could taste when the irradiated beams were aimed at me. This is not uncommon in radiation localised to the throat or mouth but was not something I was forewarned of, as even the Radiographers had not met someone who had encountered this sensation during the full body (and less concentrated) process. The taste was truly bleak, a mixture of pumpkin and metal and it stayed with me for hours afterwards which added further struggle to eating properly.
A major side effect of the radiation is an incredibly sore mouth, one which makes it nigh on impossible to eat. Due to the fact that I had already been eating less leading up to the transplant, it was decided that I would have a Nasogastric tube inserted into my nose and down into my stomach so that I would have access to food at any point and hopefully not lose too much more weight. Again, this was pretty uncomfortable and involved a lot of dry wretching but it didn't take long for the line to be put in. Incidentally I didn't get any symptoms of a sore mouth and vomited up not one, but two of these NG tubes which left one end hanging out of my nose and the other out of my mouth. Joy.
The stem cell infusion itself began on the 2nd of October and at the end of day five of radiotherapy. I was to have twelve bags of my donors bone marrow (which I'm told is a lot) over the course of about five hours. It was an underwhelming five hours in truth, after being hooked up to so many I.V.'s in the two months leading up to it, the donor's marrow could have just been any other blood transfusion in the end. My Mum, Dad and sister stayed with me the whole time which stopped me freaking out, I'd been alone in hospital many many times before, but that night felt of greater importance than any other and I needed my whole family around me. The next day was when all the trouble began...
My poor physical response to the chemotherapy meant that the doctors were deeply concerned that my terrible immune system would mean I would get a life threatening infection. Therefore, it had been decided that if any family members were a match with mine then they would donate their Granulocytes (white blood cells) to me to help fight off infection in the first two weeks of transplant. Happily both my Mum and my sister were matches and both offered to donate. However, it was only weeks afterwards that I discovered that there were some potentially very grim consequences of donating these white blood cells and although I don't want to go into these consequences on here, suffice to say that both Mum and my sister were incredible not to hesitate to donate for me.
Meanwhile, on the second day of my transplant I had awoken feeling very under the weather, understatement of the year. Being in isolation on the bone marrow unit was different to the TYA unit as nurses were checking up on me as regularly as a couple of times an hour. Therefore, it didn't take them long to notice that my already low blood pressure was dropping rather worryingly lower. Optimal blood pressure is about 120/80mm/HG, by the time I was moved almost comatose to Intensive Care my blood pressure was 56/28mm/HG. Although I was barely conscious initially, once in the ICU I had regained full awareness of my surroundings...unfortunately. I already had a Groshong line in my chest to allow for I.V.'s to be pumped into me, but the doctors in ICU needed more access to my blood vessels to give me more treatment. As such, I was completely awake when they cut slits into my neck on both sides with a scalpel and inserted a further five tubes into various blood vessels as well as one into my wrist. At this point my Mum and sister were donating the aforementioned Granulocytes in South Mead Hospital on the other side of Bristol so were being updated by my Dad over the phone until their donating was completed, which left everyone feeling powerless. I was in ICU for four days with a nurse not leaving my side for even a minute! Mum spent almost all the hours of each day with me and undoubtedly they were some of the hardest we had to get through. However, get through them we did. I was effectively strapped to my bed and to complicate matters I didn't even have control of my own bowels, Mum would have to lift me off the bed for me to urinate or defecate and if I'm being honest most of the time I was so weak, slipping in and out of consciousness that I'd more often than not miss the bed-pan anyway. I look back at those days with astonishment, words can't really describe the sheer respect I have for my Mum. She was phenomenal and took everything in her stride as if this was all normal. Everything she did was to make my life just the tiniest bit easier, it's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't experienced that complete debilitation, there was absolutely no shame or embarrassment when she would help me dress or clean me because I was too ill and broken for those things to be a necessity. I now find that seeing these words in writing is quite crushing, being at home recently has meant that these events have faded to what feels quite a distant memory and I've taken for granted how much better life is now.
After having the lines from my neck removed in ICU, I returned back to isolation in the Bone Marrow Unit in the Haemotology Centre. I received the Granulocytes donated by my Mum and sister and infection was warded off. The doctors kept saying that they were looking for a rash on my skin called GVHD which would show them that my donor's marrow had grafted into my bones and on approximately day 11 this rash appeared at Grade 1 level (the lowest). This led me to having to use some mild steroid cream to prevent the spread of said rash and once it had disappeared I was free to leave on day 22. In total I spent about a month in isolation and I wrote a lot of my thoughts down in a book at the time and kept myself busy with YouTube and reading familiar books. My family were allowed to visit me in hospital but because I was so susceptible to infection I wasn't allowed many visitors at all. The one thing that did break me was the food. Hospital food completely wore me down, especially as I was/am on a "clean diet" meaning that all my water is boiled and I can only eat from a very strict list of foods. Boiled water was warm and so in the end I stopped drinking, in the last two weeks of hospital I would get all my nutrition from Weetabix and all my fluids from the left over milk in the bowl. When I left the hospital I weighed a meagre 56kgs in comparison to the 78kgs I weighed when I first arrived and so I've spent the last three months attempting to put on weight.
In the time that followed I was still visiting the hospital at least twice a week and staying in a room provided by the charity CLIC Sargent with my Mum a short walk away. We filled the days with walks and short trips out but had to steer clear of lots of people and busy public places but around day 50 I noticed another rash breaking out on my skin. The doctors diagnosed a very low Grade 1 GVHD again and yet in two days it had covered 86% of my body and developed to Grade 3! This led to lots more tablets being needed as well as various creams having to be applied until it was all under control.
In comparison to the months beforehand, November and December were fairly subdued until I managed to contract an infection from a splinter of all things, on December the 20th just 3 days before my sister's 18th birthday. However, with 14 extra tablets to take a day the infection was brought back under control and I've had the longest break from hospital in 6 months, a whole week and a half off! Gradually the doctors have let me have longer and longer trips back home and as I said earlier this has led me to taking things for granted far more than I'd like. I'm ashamed how quickly I've forgotten how much worse things could be.
The last few months have been fairly nightmarish, often terrifying and at one or two points I've flirted with death. Yet through all this I couldn't have managed without my my friends and even more importantly my family. My transplant still has a 50% success rate and I don't really know how long I'll be taking tablets for, or what infection I'll pick up next, but I know do know one thing, it's so important to take the most pleasure out of life when possible, because it can all change so quickly.
Sunday, 20 September 2015
It's Been A While...
I'm a little daunted at the blog post I'm about to write and as such as I'll try to be concise, however, I have a feeling that my writing will reflect the turbulence in my life at the moment.
I stopped writing this blog almost 9 months ago, partly because of A levels (and laziness), but also because I assumed that my final year of treatment would be one spent going through the motions and therefore finding things to write about became less natural. However, two days after my final A level exam ended in June, suspicions that had been growing for a couple of weeks were confirmed and I was informed that my Leukaemia had returned and that I had relapsed. I greeted the news with what looking back was genuine acceptance and calm, while not being a negative person, I had always known that relapse was a possibility and so had prepared myself over months, if not years, for my second dose of life changing news.
Details of the following months are blurred and I struggle to recall dates as days blurred into one after another. I was to have two cycles of very aggressive Chemotherapy called FLAG-IDA, over two months, before a bone marrow transplant in early September. Unfortunately, as is so often the case things didn't go necessarily to plan. The Chemotherapy wipes out the immune system in it's entirety and therefore I was incredibly susceptible to infection. Although the Chemo was only administered over one week and I was therefore allowed home for the remainder of the month, twice in the first cycle I was readmitted to hospital at 3:00am with temperatures that at one point exceeded 40 degrees due to infection, only to receive 3 weeks of anti-biotics before being released again. Therefore the time at home that is so needed to recuperate strength was replaced by lying in a hospital bed in the Bristol Teenage Cancer Trust Ward with visits from friends and family my primary reminder of the outside world.
My second cycle of chemotherapy resulted in significantly worse consequences than just an infection or two. My immune system completely crashed and as such a retinal hemorrhage occured in my left eye rendering me unable to focus on the near or far. After special consultancy with optical doctors, it was decided best to leave the treatment of the hemorrhage until post-transplant so as not to risk infection of the eye and more serious consequences.
However, still the good news kept rolling in!
After managing to leave the hospital in the middle of August to acquire my A level results (and find out that I obtained a place at my first choice University, LSE) I was readmitted once more to the Haemotology Centre that night with another infection. Shortly afterwards a truly unbearable pain began to occur in my lower bowels, turns out, it's not a funny place to get an infection at all. After many, many scans I learned that I would need surgery before going ahead with the transplant, this created all sorts of risks with regards to the bone marrow transplant, but it was decided that it was the best course of action. Luckily, the surgery was very successful but it did delay the transplant by nearly 3 weeks meaning I didn't leave the hospital for a single day, unable to walk or eat properly for 4.5 weeks. 4.5 weeks in the same room, driving me slightly more insane amidst horrendous pain and the waves upon waves of doctors and nurses.
After all of this however, it seems to have been all worth it, I've reached what's known as a "deep remission" which means that the number of Leukaemia cells in my blood has reduced significantly in comparison to before my two cycles of Chemotherapy which is obviously great news, even if the journey getting there nearly broke me.
So this is where I am right now, writing this, on the very precipice of the most terrifying thing of my life.
The bone marrow transplant will start on the 24th of September and will involve both aggressive Chemotherapy and high intensity Radiotherapy before the stem cell infusion on the 2nd of October. All manner of things could, might and will happen to my body in the resulting weeks and it would do neither me nor the reader of this post any good to speculate on the potential consequences that could occur from treatment, trust me on this. After losing nearly 16 kgs in 2 months it's almost certain that I'll need to be fed through a tube through my nose for a while, as the rest of my body needs to be at it's strongest when my immune system is at it's lowest. Oh and I'll be in isolation for a few weeks as well which will mean that while I can have visitors, I can't leave my room for quite probably weeks on end.
So I've outlined what has happened and what will happen, but I haven't really mentioned how I've been trying to make sense of everything that has occured in my head. The sheer number of statistics I've learnt which reflect outcomes of various treatments hurts to think about! However, one which I can't get rid of is that my transplant has effectively 35%-40% success rate based on the number of infections I've had and other factors. "Success" means that the Leukaemia goes away forever, I don't want to really know what failure entails just yet.
I'm terrified, words can't truly convey this debilitating fear. Fear of the physical pain that the consequences of treatment will bring is one thing but by far and away it's the mental struggle that is worse. I'm scared that I'm at my happiest only when looking into the past, I don't live in the present anymore, I hate the present, I certainly can't see a real future ahead and what's the point in thinking about one which may or may not exist. I'm afraid of being alone, I always have been, I'm needy like that and worst of all, I'm afraid that after Thursday there is a significant possibility that I may never leave the hospital ever again. I guess we shall see what happens x
I stopped writing this blog almost 9 months ago, partly because of A levels (and laziness), but also because I assumed that my final year of treatment would be one spent going through the motions and therefore finding things to write about became less natural. However, two days after my final A level exam ended in June, suspicions that had been growing for a couple of weeks were confirmed and I was informed that my Leukaemia had returned and that I had relapsed. I greeted the news with what looking back was genuine acceptance and calm, while not being a negative person, I had always known that relapse was a possibility and so had prepared myself over months, if not years, for my second dose of life changing news.
Details of the following months are blurred and I struggle to recall dates as days blurred into one after another. I was to have two cycles of very aggressive Chemotherapy called FLAG-IDA, over two months, before a bone marrow transplant in early September. Unfortunately, as is so often the case things didn't go necessarily to plan. The Chemotherapy wipes out the immune system in it's entirety and therefore I was incredibly susceptible to infection. Although the Chemo was only administered over one week and I was therefore allowed home for the remainder of the month, twice in the first cycle I was readmitted to hospital at 3:00am with temperatures that at one point exceeded 40 degrees due to infection, only to receive 3 weeks of anti-biotics before being released again. Therefore the time at home that is so needed to recuperate strength was replaced by lying in a hospital bed in the Bristol Teenage Cancer Trust Ward with visits from friends and family my primary reminder of the outside world.
My second cycle of chemotherapy resulted in significantly worse consequences than just an infection or two. My immune system completely crashed and as such a retinal hemorrhage occured in my left eye rendering me unable to focus on the near or far. After special consultancy with optical doctors, it was decided best to leave the treatment of the hemorrhage until post-transplant so as not to risk infection of the eye and more serious consequences.
However, still the good news kept rolling in!
After managing to leave the hospital in the middle of August to acquire my A level results (and find out that I obtained a place at my first choice University, LSE) I was readmitted once more to the Haemotology Centre that night with another infection. Shortly afterwards a truly unbearable pain began to occur in my lower bowels, turns out, it's not a funny place to get an infection at all. After many, many scans I learned that I would need surgery before going ahead with the transplant, this created all sorts of risks with regards to the bone marrow transplant, but it was decided that it was the best course of action. Luckily, the surgery was very successful but it did delay the transplant by nearly 3 weeks meaning I didn't leave the hospital for a single day, unable to walk or eat properly for 4.5 weeks. 4.5 weeks in the same room, driving me slightly more insane amidst horrendous pain and the waves upon waves of doctors and nurses.
After all of this however, it seems to have been all worth it, I've reached what's known as a "deep remission" which means that the number of Leukaemia cells in my blood has reduced significantly in comparison to before my two cycles of Chemotherapy which is obviously great news, even if the journey getting there nearly broke me.
So this is where I am right now, writing this, on the very precipice of the most terrifying thing of my life.
The bone marrow transplant will start on the 24th of September and will involve both aggressive Chemotherapy and high intensity Radiotherapy before the stem cell infusion on the 2nd of October. All manner of things could, might and will happen to my body in the resulting weeks and it would do neither me nor the reader of this post any good to speculate on the potential consequences that could occur from treatment, trust me on this. After losing nearly 16 kgs in 2 months it's almost certain that I'll need to be fed through a tube through my nose for a while, as the rest of my body needs to be at it's strongest when my immune system is at it's lowest. Oh and I'll be in isolation for a few weeks as well which will mean that while I can have visitors, I can't leave my room for quite probably weeks on end.
So I've outlined what has happened and what will happen, but I haven't really mentioned how I've been trying to make sense of everything that has occured in my head. The sheer number of statistics I've learnt which reflect outcomes of various treatments hurts to think about! However, one which I can't get rid of is that my transplant has effectively 35%-40% success rate based on the number of infections I've had and other factors. "Success" means that the Leukaemia goes away forever, I don't want to really know what failure entails just yet.
I'm terrified, words can't truly convey this debilitating fear. Fear of the physical pain that the consequences of treatment will bring is one thing but by far and away it's the mental struggle that is worse. I'm scared that I'm at my happiest only when looking into the past, I don't live in the present anymore, I hate the present, I certainly can't see a real future ahead and what's the point in thinking about one which may or may not exist. I'm afraid of being alone, I always have been, I'm needy like that and worst of all, I'm afraid that after Thursday there is a significant possibility that I may never leave the hospital ever again. I guess we shall see what happens x
Sunday, 14 December 2014
Local Anaesthetic
It's been a crazy few weeks for me since my last post on here! I feel like every time I have a little break from writing I always end up saying that, but I guess my life is just a bit all over the place at the moment.
After Find Your Sense of Tumour I focused almost all of my attention onto two things, my performance of Romeo and Juliet at Stratford on the 7th of December and my Cambridge Interview on the 12th. However, before both of these important dates I was scheduled to have a Lumbar Puncture on Tuesday the 2nd and it was going to be the first time my procedure was administered while under Local, rather than General, Anaesthetic. In the past the idea of being awake while doctors insert a needle into my spine had hardly appealed and yet I felt I was ready to give it a go as it saves time spent in hospital and I wouldn't have the groggy hangover that General Anaesthetic normally gives me. Tuesday came and went and although I was apprehensive, I felt calm and quite pleased with how the procedure had gone and soon I was back at home. However, I did have an ache in my back which didn't go away but I was sure that this was a side effect of the change in Anaesthetic.
The pain in my back didn't subside and yet I found that after some rest I began to feel better, the next few days though gave me real cause for concern. I began to get searing headaches and the discomfort in my back would flare up an hour or so after I had woken up and would leave me unable to move my legs and lower back from the pain. However, I was still forcing myself to go into school even though I would inevitably end up vomiting through lessons when on reflection, I should have just stayed at home and rested, something that doesn't come entirely naturally to me. By Thursday I was struggling to concentrate for more than fifteen minutes and at parents evening I was told by my teachers that the amount of times I'd left their classes in the past week was concerning. However, I was adamant that I would be fighting fit for my performance at Stratford and so on the 6th I naively went to stay overnight for the production the following day.
Well, I didn't make it to one o'clock on that Saturday. Curled up in the faetal position I called my hospital and asked if my symptoms were normal after a procedure under Local Anaesthetic. I was told that this was definitely not the case and I should see a doctor, either in Stratford or back at Gloucester immediately. I felt it better that I return to the hospital where I receive the vast majority of my treatment and so returned to Gloucester as soon as was possible. I spent over 9 hours in the hospital and after being rigorously tested for infections in my blood, I was eventually allowed to leave (admittedly after much persuasion) on the condition that I was to try and get as much rest as possible in the following days. It being the weekend, my normal consultant was unable to contact me so on on the Tuesday afterwards (having sadly missed my performance) I again called the hospital to ascertain the reason for my debilitation.
As it turned out, my back pain and headaches were nothing to do with the type of Anaesthetic I was subject to. Instead, it is thought that during the minor op. too much Cerebrospinal fluid had leaked out of my back creating little air pockets which put pressure on my spine and brain, hence the headaches and backaches. This was caused by over eagerness to leave the hospital when I should have remained horizontal for an hour after the procedure. In conclusion, I have no one to blame but myself!!
Well sadly, the effects of this spinal leakage didn't clear up until the Wednesday before my interview which affected my preparation somewhat before I made the trip up. However, the events that transpired leading up to my interview arguably did help me. After being told on the 6th that potentially I could have a blood clot in my spine or brain, it did give me a little bit of perspective heading into the daunting Cambridge environment of what was really important. What happened because of this is that I really enjoyed my interviews and I felt that I managed to give a good representation of who I am as a person and spoke for the majority of the time about what I am really interested in, which is all I really wanted to do.
Now that Cambridge is out of the way and I'm over the disappointment of not performing at Stratford with the awesome Cotswold Players, I'll be focusing on knuckling down at school and (arguably more importantly) making the most of my friends coming back from University this week and spending time with them over the Christmas period! Speaking of which, I need to get my head together in regards to buying some Christmas presents... Urm, I mean, I will be cracking on with catching up on all the work I missed at school the last two weeks if you're reading this teachers/parents
After Find Your Sense of Tumour I focused almost all of my attention onto two things, my performance of Romeo and Juliet at Stratford on the 7th of December and my Cambridge Interview on the 12th. However, before both of these important dates I was scheduled to have a Lumbar Puncture on Tuesday the 2nd and it was going to be the first time my procedure was administered while under Local, rather than General, Anaesthetic. In the past the idea of being awake while doctors insert a needle into my spine had hardly appealed and yet I felt I was ready to give it a go as it saves time spent in hospital and I wouldn't have the groggy hangover that General Anaesthetic normally gives me. Tuesday came and went and although I was apprehensive, I felt calm and quite pleased with how the procedure had gone and soon I was back at home. However, I did have an ache in my back which didn't go away but I was sure that this was a side effect of the change in Anaesthetic.
The pain in my back didn't subside and yet I found that after some rest I began to feel better, the next few days though gave me real cause for concern. I began to get searing headaches and the discomfort in my back would flare up an hour or so after I had woken up and would leave me unable to move my legs and lower back from the pain. However, I was still forcing myself to go into school even though I would inevitably end up vomiting through lessons when on reflection, I should have just stayed at home and rested, something that doesn't come entirely naturally to me. By Thursday I was struggling to concentrate for more than fifteen minutes and at parents evening I was told by my teachers that the amount of times I'd left their classes in the past week was concerning. However, I was adamant that I would be fighting fit for my performance at Stratford and so on the 6th I naively went to stay overnight for the production the following day.
Well, I didn't make it to one o'clock on that Saturday. Curled up in the faetal position I called my hospital and asked if my symptoms were normal after a procedure under Local Anaesthetic. I was told that this was definitely not the case and I should see a doctor, either in Stratford or back at Gloucester immediately. I felt it better that I return to the hospital where I receive the vast majority of my treatment and so returned to Gloucester as soon as was possible. I spent over 9 hours in the hospital and after being rigorously tested for infections in my blood, I was eventually allowed to leave (admittedly after much persuasion) on the condition that I was to try and get as much rest as possible in the following days. It being the weekend, my normal consultant was unable to contact me so on on the Tuesday afterwards (having sadly missed my performance) I again called the hospital to ascertain the reason for my debilitation.
As it turned out, my back pain and headaches were nothing to do with the type of Anaesthetic I was subject to. Instead, it is thought that during the minor op. too much Cerebrospinal fluid had leaked out of my back creating little air pockets which put pressure on my spine and brain, hence the headaches and backaches. This was caused by over eagerness to leave the hospital when I should have remained horizontal for an hour after the procedure. In conclusion, I have no one to blame but myself!!
Well sadly, the effects of this spinal leakage didn't clear up until the Wednesday before my interview which affected my preparation somewhat before I made the trip up. However, the events that transpired leading up to my interview arguably did help me. After being told on the 6th that potentially I could have a blood clot in my spine or brain, it did give me a little bit of perspective heading into the daunting Cambridge environment of what was really important. What happened because of this is that I really enjoyed my interviews and I felt that I managed to give a good representation of who I am as a person and spoke for the majority of the time about what I am really interested in, which is all I really wanted to do.
Now that Cambridge is out of the way and I'm over the disappointment of not performing at Stratford with the awesome Cotswold Players, I'll be focusing on knuckling down at school and (arguably more importantly) making the most of my friends coming back from University this week and spending time with them over the Christmas period! Speaking of which, I need to get my head together in regards to buying some Christmas presents... Urm, I mean, I will be cracking on with catching up on all the work I missed at school the last two weeks if you're reading this teachers/parents
Saturday, 22 November 2014
Find Your Sense of Tumour - Second Time Around
Appropriately it would seem, my 50th blog post will be about an incredible experience I recently had that even after almost 2 and a half years of treatment, changed my perception towards dealing with cancer once more.
Last weekend I was privileged enough to not only be allowed back to Find Your Sense of Tumour (the annual Teenage Cancer Trust conference for hundreds of young people who convene at Nottingham Centre Parcs) but I was also given the opportunity to speak on the Sunday afternoon to the rest of the invitees. I was asked to outline the benefits and indeed problems that can be associated with blogging due to the Teenage Cancer Trust having read some of my previous posts on this page. I know it might sound a little corny but after the profound effect that last years FYSOT had on my approach to treatment, I was truly honoured to be asked to say a few words.
However, the weekend was vastly different to the experience that I had last year. For one thing, this year, everyone who attended was between the ages of 18 and 25 which for me was brilliant! Being one of the youngest I spoke to many people who had already finished treatment and had started experiencing life beyond cancer, giving me an encouraging boost for my final year (and one month and 2 days) of treatment. However, the weekend was by no means just a holiday break, an escape from the monotony of school work, as I found that at times I was overwhelmed by the somewhat strange atmosphere. It stands to reason that if you're surrounded by hundreds of people who share the commonality of having a disease, then that's what is going to be primarily discussed. I went from my home environment where I try and put my Leukaemia to the back of my mind, treating myself like a "normal" person, to a place where I was surrounded by the very thing I try every day to forget. I know lots and lots of people deal with having cancer differently and for many, surrounding themselves with other people who share their experiences really motivates them, but sadly this isn't the case for me. I had forgotten the intensity of emotions at FYSOT and I did find it a little distressing watching some people break down at the inspirational talks and others sit their smiling and laughing. It messed with my head a little bit to be honest! This however, did not detract one tiny bit from the absolutely amazing people I met. After shutting myself away from other people with cancer (partly due to not being on a Teenage Cancer Trust Ward for the majority of my treatment as the Royal Gloucester Hospital does not have one) I found it exhilarating to meet teenagers with the most incredible stories of diagnosis, treatments etc. that I'd never have been able to imagine.
I was thrown in with the Bristol and South West group and was fairly nervous about being the little country boy from the Cotswolds with one of the most common (and in my mind, least "interesting") cancers. Yet every single one of the people I met had a maturity and understanding beyond any of their years (sounds patronising but damn is it true). The amount of times I heard from so many young people over the weekend "I don't believe my type of cancer makes me worthy of being here" or "I didn't have to have any chemotherapy so I'm not sure how I fit in" was ridiculous. However, each of these statements was met with the same compassion and realisation that every cancer experience is different and that makes them incomparable to each other. Therefore everyone was welcomed and was made to feel like they could share and be a part of something so much bigger than individuals.
For me, the Teenage Cancer Trust's weekend not only provided a bit of positive respite from having to pretend everyday that I'm always okay, but it also allowed me to make some really brilliant new friends who know how rubbish cancer can be and I feel I can relate to.
Find Your Sense of Tumour brings together people from all across the country and yet no matter where they are from, the one thing that they all have in common isn't just cancer, it's a deep understanding and camaraderie that comes naturally to teenagers who are all in the same boat but are all striving to make the best of a really rough situation.
Last weekend I was privileged enough to not only be allowed back to Find Your Sense of Tumour (the annual Teenage Cancer Trust conference for hundreds of young people who convene at Nottingham Centre Parcs) but I was also given the opportunity to speak on the Sunday afternoon to the rest of the invitees. I was asked to outline the benefits and indeed problems that can be associated with blogging due to the Teenage Cancer Trust having read some of my previous posts on this page. I know it might sound a little corny but after the profound effect that last years FYSOT had on my approach to treatment, I was truly honoured to be asked to say a few words.
However, the weekend was vastly different to the experience that I had last year. For one thing, this year, everyone who attended was between the ages of 18 and 25 which for me was brilliant! Being one of the youngest I spoke to many people who had already finished treatment and had started experiencing life beyond cancer, giving me an encouraging boost for my final year (and one month and 2 days) of treatment. However, the weekend was by no means just a holiday break, an escape from the monotony of school work, as I found that at times I was overwhelmed by the somewhat strange atmosphere. It stands to reason that if you're surrounded by hundreds of people who share the commonality of having a disease, then that's what is going to be primarily discussed. I went from my home environment where I try and put my Leukaemia to the back of my mind, treating myself like a "normal" person, to a place where I was surrounded by the very thing I try every day to forget. I know lots and lots of people deal with having cancer differently and for many, surrounding themselves with other people who share their experiences really motivates them, but sadly this isn't the case for me. I had forgotten the intensity of emotions at FYSOT and I did find it a little distressing watching some people break down at the inspirational talks and others sit their smiling and laughing. It messed with my head a little bit to be honest! This however, did not detract one tiny bit from the absolutely amazing people I met. After shutting myself away from other people with cancer (partly due to not being on a Teenage Cancer Trust Ward for the majority of my treatment as the Royal Gloucester Hospital does not have one) I found it exhilarating to meet teenagers with the most incredible stories of diagnosis, treatments etc. that I'd never have been able to imagine.
I was thrown in with the Bristol and South West group and was fairly nervous about being the little country boy from the Cotswolds with one of the most common (and in my mind, least "interesting") cancers. Yet every single one of the people I met had a maturity and understanding beyond any of their years (sounds patronising but damn is it true). The amount of times I heard from so many young people over the weekend "I don't believe my type of cancer makes me worthy of being here" or "I didn't have to have any chemotherapy so I'm not sure how I fit in" was ridiculous. However, each of these statements was met with the same compassion and realisation that every cancer experience is different and that makes them incomparable to each other. Therefore everyone was welcomed and was made to feel like they could share and be a part of something so much bigger than individuals.
For me, the Teenage Cancer Trust's weekend not only provided a bit of positive respite from having to pretend everyday that I'm always okay, but it also allowed me to make some really brilliant new friends who know how rubbish cancer can be and I feel I can relate to.
Find Your Sense of Tumour brings together people from all across the country and yet no matter where they are from, the one thing that they all have in common isn't just cancer, it's a deep understanding and camaraderie that comes naturally to teenagers who are all in the same boat but are all striving to make the best of a really rough situation.
Sunday, 9 November 2014
Dr. Dilys - Going Beyond The Expected
Last time I wrote on here, I thanked the doctors and staff at Gloucester Royal Hospital for coming to support me at my play. However, today I want to be really specific in who deserves the biggest thanks of all.
Dr. Dilys O'Neale is without doubt one of the biggest personalities I've come across as a consequence of my diagnosis. She was there on day one on the 10th of October 2012 and on the 31st of October 2014, she retired from her position at Gloucester Royal and without doubt will be incredibly missed. She influenced me hugely in my approach to treatment, always greeting me with a sly dig and a smile. Dilys understood that it was truly rubbish for me to be in hospital, feeling awful due to chemotherapy and so she would make light of it, which for me, was the perfect response I needed to my complaining. She'd always buy strange plasters and give me stickers after treatment and we'd often laugh at the latest Russell Howard's Good News while she pushed the bleak yellow fluid into the back of my hand, but also, to the back of my mind.
Dilys honestly made hospital a better place to be and therefore, made my life a whole lot better in the process. She'd always (admittedly sometimes a few weeks late) produce reams of charts and graphs to placate my worrying mum and I was always happy with my Disney Princess plasters. I feel like I'm maybe not saying "thank you" as seriously as I should, but I feel like that was exactly what Dilys was like as a person so I don't feel too guilty.
However, Dilys, if you are reading this, then please know that you've had a lasting impact on mine, as well as my family's life, we owe you big time, so thank you! I don't want to say it's all been a barrel of laughs because, well, you know, cancer played a pretty major part in our meeting, but through circumstances neither of us could help, you helped make a bearable situation out of a pretty bad one.
Good luck in everything you choose to do next - Whiny Will x
I realise that I have been very lucky to have had such a friendly face around me for two years at hospital, it must be a really tough job to look after grumpy little b*st*rds like me. I think that it can be easy to forget just how much work all the doctors and nurses do for all patients and so it's always good to remind them how appreciated they are.
Dr. Dilys O'Neale is without doubt one of the biggest personalities I've come across as a consequence of my diagnosis. She was there on day one on the 10th of October 2012 and on the 31st of October 2014, she retired from her position at Gloucester Royal and without doubt will be incredibly missed. She influenced me hugely in my approach to treatment, always greeting me with a sly dig and a smile. Dilys understood that it was truly rubbish for me to be in hospital, feeling awful due to chemotherapy and so she would make light of it, which for me, was the perfect response I needed to my complaining. She'd always buy strange plasters and give me stickers after treatment and we'd often laugh at the latest Russell Howard's Good News while she pushed the bleak yellow fluid into the back of my hand, but also, to the back of my mind.
Dilys honestly made hospital a better place to be and therefore, made my life a whole lot better in the process. She'd always (admittedly sometimes a few weeks late) produce reams of charts and graphs to placate my worrying mum and I was always happy with my Disney Princess plasters. I feel like I'm maybe not saying "thank you" as seriously as I should, but I feel like that was exactly what Dilys was like as a person so I don't feel too guilty.
However, Dilys, if you are reading this, then please know that you've had a lasting impact on mine, as well as my family's life, we owe you big time, so thank you! I don't want to say it's all been a barrel of laughs because, well, you know, cancer played a pretty major part in our meeting, but through circumstances neither of us could help, you helped make a bearable situation out of a pretty bad one.
Good luck in everything you choose to do next - Whiny Will x
I realise that I have been very lucky to have had such a friendly face around me for two years at hospital, it must be a really tough job to look after grumpy little b*st*rds like me. I think that it can be easy to forget just how much work all the doctors and nurses do for all patients and so it's always good to remind them how appreciated they are.
Sunday, 26 October 2014
Thanks All Round
My performances of "Romeo and Juliet" as "Tybalt" concluded last night and looking back, the entire experience was amazing. I signed up with the Cotswold Players on a whim that it might be fun to do a little bit of acting, to meet some new people after my friends went off to University. I'm a pretty confident person when it comes to talking in front of large audiences anyway, through my public speaking, so I didn't think amateur dramatics could be too scary. Well, I've had an absolute blast. I've been lucky enough to make some really good new friends and while initially I felt out of my depth, every single member of the cast made me feel welcome and helped me improve my rather apt character, who was in essence, a grumpy teenager.
I now have so many fantastic memories and experiences that I can happily look back upon and which have definitely inspired me to join a theatre group at University next September! I know it sounds cliché, but I went out on a limb and put myself outside of my comfort zone, trying something I've never done before just to see what would happen and as you can probably tell, I feel like it has really payed off. Being part of the play over the last couple of weeks, has also been a real help in distracting me from worrying about University offers. Already people are beginning to receive placements and so by taking my attention away from that, I haven't caught my breath long enough to even think about it properly, after seven performances in just over a week and a half. At the moment I'm still on a bit of a high from our last night, but I know sooner or later I'll begin fretting, therefore I've already got a few events lined up to keep me busy. I should be giving a talk on why it is so important to donate blood in the next week or so at my school and also, in mid-November, I'll be speaking at the Find Your Sense of Tumour conference about this very blog and how it has helped me to deal with cancer by reaching out to other people in similar situations to me.
Anyway, with all that to come I'm feeling pretty optimistic about the upcoming couple of months and then, God forbid, it's Christmas...I've already seen Mince Pies going in Morrisons!
One final thank you must go out to all my doctors, nurses and everyone at Gloucester hospital who came to support me at the play and also, put up with my chopping and changing of treatment to fit around my performances, you're all absolutely brilliant and I'll see you on Monday for my steroids!!
I now have so many fantastic memories and experiences that I can happily look back upon and which have definitely inspired me to join a theatre group at University next September! I know it sounds cliché, but I went out on a limb and put myself outside of my comfort zone, trying something I've never done before just to see what would happen and as you can probably tell, I feel like it has really payed off. Being part of the play over the last couple of weeks, has also been a real help in distracting me from worrying about University offers. Already people are beginning to receive placements and so by taking my attention away from that, I haven't caught my breath long enough to even think about it properly, after seven performances in just over a week and a half. At the moment I'm still on a bit of a high from our last night, but I know sooner or later I'll begin fretting, therefore I've already got a few events lined up to keep me busy. I should be giving a talk on why it is so important to donate blood in the next week or so at my school and also, in mid-November, I'll be speaking at the Find Your Sense of Tumour conference about this very blog and how it has helped me to deal with cancer by reaching out to other people in similar situations to me.
Anyway, with all that to come I'm feeling pretty optimistic about the upcoming couple of months and then, God forbid, it's Christmas...I've already seen Mince Pies going in Morrisons!
One final thank you must go out to all my doctors, nurses and everyone at Gloucester hospital who came to support me at the play and also, put up with my chopping and changing of treatment to fit around my performances, you're all absolutely brilliant and I'll see you on Monday for my steroids!!
Sunday, 12 October 2014
Weight off my Shoulders
The last couple of weeks have been fairly productive! I'm really pleased that I've maintained going to the gym regularly which initially I doubted that I'd be able to stick to. In the last three weeks, thanks as well to a more sensible diet, I've lost a stone and am already feeling healthier for it so I've just got to keep the commitment up now! Also (and arguably more importantly), on Friday I finally sent off my UCAS application, a big relief to get that done now, but also, huge thanks must go to all my teachers for helping me with my Extenuating Circumstances Form which I'd recommend anyone with cancer who is applying to University to fill in. It's purpose is to inform Universities about any potential problems that may inhibit someone from achieving the grades that they are predicted and so some faculties take this into consideration when giving offers.
Anyway, once again I apologise for the very "University focused" post, the process of applying has sort of taken over my life in the last few weeks but hopefully now I can get back on track with normal school work...joy.
Anyway, once again I apologise for the very "University focused" post, the process of applying has sort of taken over my life in the last few weeks but hopefully now I can get back on track with normal school work...joy.
Monday, 29 September 2014
Visiting Oxford
Last week was quite a strange one for me. While I managed to finish off my personal statement and fill in the vast majority of my UCAS application, my steroids meant that I was on edge, fidgety and prone to losing my temper a lot quicker than usual. However, I channeled most of that aggression into going to the gym and exercising, which helped more than I thought it would as I was too exhausted to argue with anyone!
On Friday evening, I drove about an hour and a half to Oxford with a friend to visit one of our mates who'd just moved into the Brookes University. He'd been there for about two weeks and seemed pretty settled in his new surroundings. The trip, which was really good fun, has made me look forward to University even more than before! At the moment, it's all I can really focus on and so I'm working my absolute hardest to give me the best possible chance of getting into the places I want to go. All my friends last year said that talking about University takes over your life and you find yourself not really thinking about too much else and I now know exactly what they mean, sometimes I have to stop myself from rambling on about a "new course I've found" or "types of accommodation" to my poor family, who are quite probably getting sick and tired of it all by now!
Anyway, I've got to keep remembering to put everything into some sort of perspective as there are other things that I need to focus on too, for instance, being nice to people when I'm on my steroids!
On Friday evening, I drove about an hour and a half to Oxford with a friend to visit one of our mates who'd just moved into the Brookes University. He'd been there for about two weeks and seemed pretty settled in his new surroundings. The trip, which was really good fun, has made me look forward to University even more than before! At the moment, it's all I can really focus on and so I'm working my absolute hardest to give me the best possible chance of getting into the places I want to go. All my friends last year said that talking about University takes over your life and you find yourself not really thinking about too much else and I now know exactly what they mean, sometimes I have to stop myself from rambling on about a "new course I've found" or "types of accommodation" to my poor family, who are quite probably getting sick and tired of it all by now!
Anyway, I've got to keep remembering to put everything into some sort of perspective as there are other things that I need to focus on too, for instance, being nice to people when I'm on my steroids!
Sunday, 14 September 2014
Not Too Much News To Report
I've now had nearly two weeks back at Sixth Form with my new year group and although it feels strange being back at a place that is so familiar to me, but where I now know very few people well, so far it's hasn't been the horrendous experience that I was maybe expecting. I've now settled into something of a routine, although this is easier said than done because at the moment my lessons are a bit all over the place! I don't have vast amounts to report this week hospital wise, but one thing that did make a change was that on Tuesday, after my Lumbar Puncture, instead of rushing home and feeling ill, I slept for another few hours and woke up feeling far better than I normally do. It's something I've always fought against, determined to get out of hospital as quickly as possible but in future I may rest for a bit longer after so much treatment.
Over the last couple of weeks I have kept myself busy whilst my friends depart one by one off to University. Therefore, since I've returned school, I have cracked on with writing a personal statement, joined a gym and even spoken on behalf of the Teenage Cancer Trust at the St. James' Place's Annual fundraiser, thanking them for their continued support for the charity. All of this has made me feel more secure about how this year will pan out and I'm now trying to look forward to getting my University Application sent off, getting the ball rolling for my last year at Sixth Form.
Over the last couple of weeks I have kept myself busy whilst my friends depart one by one off to University. Therefore, since I've returned school, I have cracked on with writing a personal statement, joined a gym and even spoken on behalf of the Teenage Cancer Trust at the St. James' Place's Annual fundraiser, thanking them for their continued support for the charity. All of this has made me feel more secure about how this year will pan out and I'm now trying to look forward to getting my University Application sent off, getting the ball rolling for my last year at Sixth Form.
Friday, 5 September 2014
The Medical Side
As promised last week, in this post I'm going to write more about the medical aspects of my trip across Europe. The first thing I had to do before I left England was plan my route so that I could buy the travel/health insurance that would encompass all the countries that I planned on visiting. This was an aspect of the trip that was a difficult to stomach as naturally the insurance quotes I initially received were sometimes in excess of £400 and yet my friends were only quoted to pay £10! However, my consultants recommended a few insurers that have specialised policies for people with cancer and a whole list can be found on the Macmillan Cancer Support website whose link I shall leave at the bottom of the page. After calling all insurance suppliers that were recommended to me, my best price was quoted by Freedom Travel Insurance at just under £150, which, while still expensive, was the cheapest policy by almost £70, again, the link to their specific website is below.
After securing extensive health insurance, I then made sure that I had enough chemotherapy with me on the trip to last all 21 days and that I had a few extra "spare days" just in case of an emergency. I was a little unsure whether airport security would question my multitude of unmarked white tablets, but I wasn't stopped or questioned in a single country. However, just to err on the side of caution, my consultants at Gloucester Hospital had written letters for me in 2 or 3 different languages which explained my treatment and what to do in case of an emergency.
My consultants had also wanted me to take a blood test while I was away, to make sure that I suddenly hadn't become neutropenic and become more susceptible to infection and illness. Therefore, my friends and I planned the first half of our trip meticulously so that on the morning of the 6th day, I was in Berlin and could get the results I needed. However, I would urge people who are being told that they similarly need to take a blood test abroad to do 2 things. The first being that it is very important to take a European Health Insurance Card as without it, the blood test would have cost me in the region of £350. Secondly, call the hospital prior to visiting. I didn't call ahead and just turned up at the first German hospital I could find, which actually turned out to be a sexual health clinic so was told to go across the road to the main building! Once I was in the right place however, my results for one finger prick took 6 hours to arrive which I could have easily avoided by calling ahead.
Daunting though it may have seemed at first, I would strongly urge people not to be put off by insurance companies and other obstacles when planning trips abroad, I still had a fantastic time away despite the extra precautions due to my health.
http://www.macmillan.org.uk/Cancerinformation/Livingwithandaftercancer/Practicalissues/Travel/Companies.aspx
http://www.freedominsure.co.uk/
After securing extensive health insurance, I then made sure that I had enough chemotherapy with me on the trip to last all 21 days and that I had a few extra "spare days" just in case of an emergency. I was a little unsure whether airport security would question my multitude of unmarked white tablets, but I wasn't stopped or questioned in a single country. However, just to err on the side of caution, my consultants at Gloucester Hospital had written letters for me in 2 or 3 different languages which explained my treatment and what to do in case of an emergency.
My consultants had also wanted me to take a blood test while I was away, to make sure that I suddenly hadn't become neutropenic and become more susceptible to infection and illness. Therefore, my friends and I planned the first half of our trip meticulously so that on the morning of the 6th day, I was in Berlin and could get the results I needed. However, I would urge people who are being told that they similarly need to take a blood test abroad to do 2 things. The first being that it is very important to take a European Health Insurance Card as without it, the blood test would have cost me in the region of £350. Secondly, call the hospital prior to visiting. I didn't call ahead and just turned up at the first German hospital I could find, which actually turned out to be a sexual health clinic so was told to go across the road to the main building! Once I was in the right place however, my results for one finger prick took 6 hours to arrive which I could have easily avoided by calling ahead.
Daunting though it may have seemed at first, I would strongly urge people not to be put off by insurance companies and other obstacles when planning trips abroad, I still had a fantastic time away despite the extra precautions due to my health.
http://www.macmillan.org.uk/Cancerinformation/Livingwithandaftercancer/Practicalissues/Travel/Companies.aspx
http://www.freedominsure.co.uk/
Thursday, 28 August 2014
A Month and a Half to Remember
I've had an absolutely incredible time in the last month and a half and with the start of my final school year looming I thought I'd resume more regular posts on the blog!
My last post was filled with excitement and a little apprehension before embarking on my trip across Europe and I'm really glad to say that it was everything that I hoped it would be. I was nervous beforehand about suffering fatigue due to the constant travelling and thus potentially holding up my friends, but in the end, I had nothing to worry about at all. We travelled from Paris-Amsterdam-Berlin-Prague-Budapest-Venice-Lake Como-Bidart (South France) and it was all crammed into just a few weeks! Each of us had favourite places and favourite moments on the trip, mine being Amsterdam and Prague, but we could all agree that we had shared an incredible experience together. While the trip was fantastic, I had to take a blood test while in Germany and although the process took 6 hours (mainly due to the fact that we had failed to call ahead to let the hospital know I was coming!) it went as smoothly as I could have hoped and really put my mind at ease when the doctors confirmed that the trip had in no way affected my blood counts, meaning that I could just enjoy the rest of my holiday without worry. I was lucky enough to go with a really great group of guys which meant that when I wasn't feeling at my best, we'd all take a 5 minute break or grab some drinks, making the whole experience more relaxed and putting me at ease. Next weeks blog will include a little bit more information about the medical logistics.
I returned home the evening before results day and that night found myself really struggling to put into context the importance of the following days marks. While part of me was desperate to do well, to keep all doors open and give myself the best opportunities for later in life, I also had thoughts that maybe results weren't as important as society would have you believe. Results don't define who a person is, or indeed give a definitive answer about how happy a person will be later in life. After stressing for weeks on end, I realised that while undoubtedly A level results are important and will have some bearing on the outcome of my life, they are by no means the be all and end all and there are far more important things, like being healthy and happy. I feel very obnoxious writing all that and trust me, I was shaking as much as anybody else when opening my envelope on the 14th of August, it's just that I think sometimes it's important, although not always easy to remember, to take a step back and put everything into some sort context.
As it turned out, I was really pleased with the results I achieved and hopefully they have set me up well for my last year at 6th Form.
My last post was filled with excitement and a little apprehension before embarking on my trip across Europe and I'm really glad to say that it was everything that I hoped it would be. I was nervous beforehand about suffering fatigue due to the constant travelling and thus potentially holding up my friends, but in the end, I had nothing to worry about at all. We travelled from Paris-Amsterdam-Berlin-Prague-Budapest-Venice-Lake Como-Bidart (South France) and it was all crammed into just a few weeks! Each of us had favourite places and favourite moments on the trip, mine being Amsterdam and Prague, but we could all agree that we had shared an incredible experience together. While the trip was fantastic, I had to take a blood test while in Germany and although the process took 6 hours (mainly due to the fact that we had failed to call ahead to let the hospital know I was coming!) it went as smoothly as I could have hoped and really put my mind at ease when the doctors confirmed that the trip had in no way affected my blood counts, meaning that I could just enjoy the rest of my holiday without worry. I was lucky enough to go with a really great group of guys which meant that when I wasn't feeling at my best, we'd all take a 5 minute break or grab some drinks, making the whole experience more relaxed and putting me at ease. Next weeks blog will include a little bit more information about the medical logistics.
I returned home the evening before results day and that night found myself really struggling to put into context the importance of the following days marks. While part of me was desperate to do well, to keep all doors open and give myself the best opportunities for later in life, I also had thoughts that maybe results weren't as important as society would have you believe. Results don't define who a person is, or indeed give a definitive answer about how happy a person will be later in life. After stressing for weeks on end, I realised that while undoubtedly A level results are important and will have some bearing on the outcome of my life, they are by no means the be all and end all and there are far more important things, like being healthy and happy. I feel very obnoxious writing all that and trust me, I was shaking as much as anybody else when opening my envelope on the 14th of August, it's just that I think sometimes it's important, although not always easy to remember, to take a step back and put everything into some sort context.
As it turned out, I was really pleased with the results I achieved and hopefully they have set me up well for my last year at 6th Form.
Tuesday, 22 July 2014
Europe
"Lucky" isn't a word I always associate with myself, but today I feel really privileged to be starting my three week InterRailing holiday, travelling across Europe. In all honesty, I'm not sure how I've managed to persuade my doctors (let alone my parents) that I'm sensible enough to roam the continent with my four best friends, but the build up for the trip, let alone the experience I'm about to have, has given me so much happiness and so much to look forward to.
However, safe to say, I'm not completely free from the influence of my hospital. In Berlin I have to take a few blood tests and obviously I'm still taking Chemotherapy every day, but after over a year and a half, that's par for the course, although I'm not admitting that at any point have I ever found it a barrel of laughs!
Anyway, this is a farewell for a little while on here, I'll be posting pictures and updates at various points of the trip (whenever I can get some free WiFi) and if you want to check out how it's all going, follow me on @Will_smith09
I hope everyone has a brilliant summer, I get back into England the night before Results Day, so best of luck to everyone, I sincerely hope you all achieve whatever you want!
Tuesday, 1 July 2014
Thank You
I'd like to start by apologising for not writing for a few weeks however, in my defence, I have been working hard on my A2 English Coursework for the last month and that took up an awful lot of my time!
Anyway, a lot has happened in the time since I haven't written written on here. As I mentioned, I've just finished my entire English A level which was a pretty exceptional feeling in itself. Last week I also visited a few University Open Days and that's given me real motivation to work especially hard next year, accompanied with a feeling of control as to where my life is headed and in which direction I want to take it. Obviously, summer is here so I'm having to splash on the sun cream every morning, as nowadays I burn so easily, but the weather does keep reminding me that I'll be InterRailing in less than a month, something which I am really really excited for!!
However, last week, as well as visiting Universities, I also went to my Sixth Form's leavers prom. I had been dreading this "final goodbye" for a long time and although the night was incredible and I got to spend it with some great friends, it was as difficult as I had anticipated. I said goodbye to some of the people who had completely carried me through the worst of my treatment, had seen me at my most vulnerable and (in my eyes) most pathetic.
I'm often told when writing this blog not to regularly thank my friends and family, because while this blog is about me, it's also meant to be a general account for other teenagers going through similar cancer related experiences. However, I do feel completely justified in thanking the most amazing group of people that I've ever had the privilege to know and call my friends. Every single show of support has been truly appreciated and I honestly know just how lucky I have been, to be surrounded by such a brilliant group of people. I've written in the past about how important it is not to "stick your head in the sand" and avoid problems by simply hoping that they will go away. I'm ashamed to admit that in the case of my friends leaving, I have very much acted hypocritically. I wanted so badly to be going with them to University and not be left behind, that I've remained in a state of denial, a decision that I now realise wasn't the right one to make, it was the easy way out in the short term.
While I'm desperately saddened by all my friends going their separate ways and I have no doubt it will take a while for me to begin to fully accept that they have gone, I will try to keep in mind a quote of J.R.R.Tolkien's, "All we have to decide is what to do with the time given to us." I've had some utterly brilliant years with the people I love and there's no way I could forget what they have done for me. However, their leaving is out of my control and I can either be miserable and downhearted, or make the best out of a not great situation and build a future for myself that I want, starting with working hard at school and mapping out where I want to be afterwards.
Anyway, a lot has happened in the time since I haven't written written on here. As I mentioned, I've just finished my entire English A level which was a pretty exceptional feeling in itself. Last week I also visited a few University Open Days and that's given me real motivation to work especially hard next year, accompanied with a feeling of control as to where my life is headed and in which direction I want to take it. Obviously, summer is here so I'm having to splash on the sun cream every morning, as nowadays I burn so easily, but the weather does keep reminding me that I'll be InterRailing in less than a month, something which I am really really excited for!!
However, last week, as well as visiting Universities, I also went to my Sixth Form's leavers prom. I had been dreading this "final goodbye" for a long time and although the night was incredible and I got to spend it with some great friends, it was as difficult as I had anticipated. I said goodbye to some of the people who had completely carried me through the worst of my treatment, had seen me at my most vulnerable and (in my eyes) most pathetic.
I'm often told when writing this blog not to regularly thank my friends and family, because while this blog is about me, it's also meant to be a general account for other teenagers going through similar cancer related experiences. However, I do feel completely justified in thanking the most amazing group of people that I've ever had the privilege to know and call my friends. Every single show of support has been truly appreciated and I honestly know just how lucky I have been, to be surrounded by such a brilliant group of people. I've written in the past about how important it is not to "stick your head in the sand" and avoid problems by simply hoping that they will go away. I'm ashamed to admit that in the case of my friends leaving, I have very much acted hypocritically. I wanted so badly to be going with them to University and not be left behind, that I've remained in a state of denial, a decision that I now realise wasn't the right one to make, it was the easy way out in the short term.
While I'm desperately saddened by all my friends going their separate ways and I have no doubt it will take a while for me to begin to fully accept that they have gone, I will try to keep in mind a quote of J.R.R.Tolkien's, "All we have to decide is what to do with the time given to us." I've had some utterly brilliant years with the people I love and there's no way I could forget what they have done for me. However, their leaving is out of my control and I can either be miserable and downhearted, or make the best out of a not great situation and build a future for myself that I want, starting with working hard at school and mapping out where I want to be afterwards.
Monday, 9 June 2014
Could I Be Maturing??
What I've discovered over the past year and a half, is that it is vitally important that you don't purely focus on the setbacks in life.
Now, in the grand scheme of things, my Scuba Diving being cancelled last weekend due to changeable weather is clearly not a huge problem, but it wasn't the best news that I've had. In the last couple of months I have mentioned in this blog that the prospect of diving for the first time in almost two years is something that I have been really looking forward to. It had become a symbol for me of restored normality in my life and in truth, had possibly represented pre-cancer Will. When I got the call that the whole trip had been cancelled, I was bitterly disappointed, but I soon realised that I had let this one activity evolve into something more significant than it actually was. I took some time to reflect on other achievements that prove how over the past few months I have rebuilt myself (with huge help from all the people closest to me of course) after my biggest setback, being diagnosed with cancer. For instance, on Friday I finished the last of my five AS and A2 exams of this year, a feat that a year ago seemed desperately unlikely.
Arguably, one of my biggest faults before my diagnosis was that I lacked the ability to put things in perspective. I used to blow everything out of proportion and trivial problems appeared far more important than they actually were. While not being able to Scuba Dive last weekend was disappointing and initially I couldn't see the bigger picture, my reaction to the news has shown me that since I was diagnosed, (there is a small chance that) maybe I have grown up, to the point where I no longer only focus on disappointments, but can also reflect on good things to pick myself back up.
Obviously, everyone deals with issues and difficulties in their own way and I cannot stress enough that in my mind, there is absolutely NO right or wrong way to approach any given situation that causes stress or upset no matter how big or small in each individual's eyes. However, the point of my blogging is primarily to help people who are in a similar situation to me and so if I could give any advice about tackling any kind of setback at all, it would be to try and focus on the good as well as the bad. Things do get better and focusing on a problem, invariably doesn't make it go away.
Now, in the grand scheme of things, my Scuba Diving being cancelled last weekend due to changeable weather is clearly not a huge problem, but it wasn't the best news that I've had. In the last couple of months I have mentioned in this blog that the prospect of diving for the first time in almost two years is something that I have been really looking forward to. It had become a symbol for me of restored normality in my life and in truth, had possibly represented pre-cancer Will. When I got the call that the whole trip had been cancelled, I was bitterly disappointed, but I soon realised that I had let this one activity evolve into something more significant than it actually was. I took some time to reflect on other achievements that prove how over the past few months I have rebuilt myself (with huge help from all the people closest to me of course) after my biggest setback, being diagnosed with cancer. For instance, on Friday I finished the last of my five AS and A2 exams of this year, a feat that a year ago seemed desperately unlikely.
Arguably, one of my biggest faults before my diagnosis was that I lacked the ability to put things in perspective. I used to blow everything out of proportion and trivial problems appeared far more important than they actually were. While not being able to Scuba Dive last weekend was disappointing and initially I couldn't see the bigger picture, my reaction to the news has shown me that since I was diagnosed, (there is a small chance that) maybe I have grown up, to the point where I no longer only focus on disappointments, but can also reflect on good things to pick myself back up.
Obviously, everyone deals with issues and difficulties in their own way and I cannot stress enough that in my mind, there is absolutely NO right or wrong way to approach any given situation that causes stress or upset no matter how big or small in each individual's eyes. However, the point of my blogging is primarily to help people who are in a similar situation to me and so if I could give any advice about tackling any kind of setback at all, it would be to try and focus on the good as well as the bad. Things do get better and focusing on a problem, invariably doesn't make it go away.
Monday, 2 June 2014
Revision Can't Always Be Fun!
Sorry about the lack of blog post last week, I have been focusing hard on my final exam which I'm taking this Friday and for the same reason, I'm afraid that this weeks update will also be brief. My doctors very kindly went out of their way to bring my Vincristine treatment, as well as my five days of steroids, forward to Friday instead of Monday. This should mean that the aching limbs/insatiable hunger/violent mood swings/uncontrollable spitting/lack of focus will be less prevalent come the time of my exam. However, this does mean that I am experiencing those effects of my treatment now, which is making revision all that more fun, mind you, it was hardly a barrel of laughs when I was feeling fine... Still, I'm staying upbeat and determined thanks to support from my incredibly patient family and a cheeky slice of Dominos pizza from time to time!
I'm sorry that tonight's post is so short but Revision + Steroids = Exhausted Will! Hopefully by next week, once all of my exams are out of the way, I'll be feeling more relaxed and will write a slightly more informative (and possibly more coherent) blog post!
I'm sorry that tonight's post is so short but Revision + Steroids = Exhausted Will! Hopefully by next week, once all of my exams are out of the way, I'll be feeling more relaxed and will write a slightly more informative (and possibly more coherent) blog post!
Monday, 19 May 2014
A Storm Indeed
When reflecting upon this week, it feels like a lot has happened very quickly. It's been a turbulent seven days for me and my family which began with the death of Stephen Sutton that has been so widely publicised across, ostensibly, all media formats. Obviously, I was aware that with the severity of his cancer, it was always a question of when he was going to die, rather than if, but it still had a shocking effect on me and I know that I will not forget the huge amount of good that he achieved in the world, as well as the personal memories that I have of him.
Stephen's death meant that I was especially conscious of my own health in the days that followed and the idea of "relapsing" has been prevalent in my thoughts, more so than usual. Therefore, when, on Thursday, I received blood results that consisted of frighteningly low platelets and was told that I needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible, I was incredibly scared. I realised just how much I had been thinking about the consequences of my Leukaemia returning and how those thoughts had been eating away inside of me. It was honestly terrifying. I thought about how I'd have to permanently drop out of school, undergo a bone marrow transplant which would possibly be taken from my sister thus affecting her life hugely, lose all my hair again, once more be removed from the teenage "normality" that I am always striving for, and most importantly of all, survive! It felt surreal while I was waiting in the hospital, that the results of the second blood tests taken to double check the original results, could alter my life so massively, I don't think I've ever been so filled with anxiety.
However, after less than a half hour wait, it turned out that everything was fine and the blood sample of the original test had been of insufficient quantity and therefore had been so diluted to increase the volume of blood, that the results were wildly inaccurate. I would argue though, that this was a valuable, if hardly desirable, lesson and I took a lot away from Thursday.
It was only after being placed in that grim situation that I could really understand how fixated I had become in my head about a potential relapse occurring. Whether I do relapse or not is almost irrelevant, as on Thursday I began to understand that it is almost entirely out of my control. Obviously there are things that I can do to decrease the risk, such as eating healthily, sleeping well and exercising, but ultimately there is probably not a huge amount that I can do about it.
So yes, it is undoubtedly important to be aware that there is the potential for my Leukaemia to return and I should actively try to combat the cancer with a healthy lifestyle, but equally, I must not let fear consume me and instead I should follow Stephen's example and aim to live life to the fullest.
Stephen's death meant that I was especially conscious of my own health in the days that followed and the idea of "relapsing" has been prevalent in my thoughts, more so than usual. Therefore, when, on Thursday, I received blood results that consisted of frighteningly low platelets and was told that I needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible, I was incredibly scared. I realised just how much I had been thinking about the consequences of my Leukaemia returning and how those thoughts had been eating away inside of me. It was honestly terrifying. I thought about how I'd have to permanently drop out of school, undergo a bone marrow transplant which would possibly be taken from my sister thus affecting her life hugely, lose all my hair again, once more be removed from the teenage "normality" that I am always striving for, and most importantly of all, survive! It felt surreal while I was waiting in the hospital, that the results of the second blood tests taken to double check the original results, could alter my life so massively, I don't think I've ever been so filled with anxiety.
However, after less than a half hour wait, it turned out that everything was fine and the blood sample of the original test had been of insufficient quantity and therefore had been so diluted to increase the volume of blood, that the results were wildly inaccurate. I would argue though, that this was a valuable, if hardly desirable, lesson and I took a lot away from Thursday.
It was only after being placed in that grim situation that I could really understand how fixated I had become in my head about a potential relapse occurring. Whether I do relapse or not is almost irrelevant, as on Thursday I began to understand that it is almost entirely out of my control. Obviously there are things that I can do to decrease the risk, such as eating healthily, sleeping well and exercising, but ultimately there is probably not a huge amount that I can do about it.
So yes, it is undoubtedly important to be aware that there is the potential for my Leukaemia to return and I should actively try to combat the cancer with a healthy lifestyle, but equally, I must not let fear consume me and instead I should follow Stephen's example and aim to live life to the fullest.
Monday, 12 May 2014
The Not So Calm Before The Storm
Only a short post tonight just to let you know that from a medical point of view nothing drastic has changed and I'm still feeling pretty O.K. However, tomorrow begins the start of my exams and it's pretty intense from now until the beginning of June. I feel like I've prepared pretty well and so I'm trying to subdue my nerves as best as I can, but I've never been one to go into an exam brimming with confidence. Tomorrow we're getting the ball rolling with a Philosophy and Ethics AS paper so my fingers are crossed that God's on my side (ha) and I get a straightforward set of questions.
However, a bit of positive news before brooding over exams takes it's toll on my writing! A few days ago I applied for tickets to see The Arctic Monkeys live at Finsbury Park in London, through the Teenage Cancer Trust and luckily I was one of the names pulled out of the hat. I'm going on Saturday the 24th of May, the day after one of my most difficult exams, so that'll be some really good light relief and provides me with something brilliant to look forward to.
Anyway, back to some final revision before I become entrenched in "grade boundaries" and "UMS marks", good luck to anyone else sitting tests in the next few weeks!
However, a bit of positive news before brooding over exams takes it's toll on my writing! A few days ago I applied for tickets to see The Arctic Monkeys live at Finsbury Park in London, through the Teenage Cancer Trust and luckily I was one of the names pulled out of the hat. I'm going on Saturday the 24th of May, the day after one of my most difficult exams, so that'll be some really good light relief and provides me with something brilliant to look forward to.
Anyway, back to some final revision before I become entrenched in "grade boundaries" and "UMS marks", good luck to anyone else sitting tests in the next few weeks!
Tuesday, 6 May 2014
Term's Ending
I don't have too much to report from a medical point of view at the moment. My chemotherapy increased marginally again last week and since then I've had my usual steroids, but with those now out of the way I can now focus my entire attention on getting through the next month of exams. I'm pretty lucky in that my five exams are spaced out evenly across the next thirty days so hopefully by the last one, I won't be too exhausted for Scuba Diving the day after!
As I'm doing AS and A2 exams this year, I've been unsure as to whether I am meant to attend, or even feel comfortable being a part of, the annual Year 13 Leavers Day. The tradition of this day demands that Year 13's come into school on the last day before their study leave begins and awards are given out for "Best Student" and "Comedian of the Year"etc. However, as I'm not technically leaving the school next year, the "Leavers Day", didn't feel like it applied to me. After explaining my thoughts to a teacher, she offered her own view as to why she felt that it was important that I did go. She said to me that the Day isn't about all my friends going off to University and therefore, leaving me behind. Instead, the day represents the last school day before friends "Leave" each other and take the next huge step in their lives, whether that is another year of education at Sixth Form, or a Gap Year, or going off to University. So that's how I'm going to approach the day. It's definitely not what I would have chosen, but missing out on saying goodbye to people who I've been friends with for seven years would be much worse.
As I'm doing AS and A2 exams this year, I've been unsure as to whether I am meant to attend, or even feel comfortable being a part of, the annual Year 13 Leavers Day. The tradition of this day demands that Year 13's come into school on the last day before their study leave begins and awards are given out for "Best Student" and "Comedian of the Year"etc. However, as I'm not technically leaving the school next year, the "Leavers Day", didn't feel like it applied to me. After explaining my thoughts to a teacher, she offered her own view as to why she felt that it was important that I did go. She said to me that the Day isn't about all my friends going off to University and therefore, leaving me behind. Instead, the day represents the last school day before friends "Leave" each other and take the next huge step in their lives, whether that is another year of education at Sixth Form, or a Gap Year, or going off to University. So that's how I'm going to approach the day. It's definitely not what I would have chosen, but missing out on saying goodbye to people who I've been friends with for seven years would be much worse.
Monday, 28 April 2014
Stephen Sutton - My Inspiration
This week's blog post must be dedicated to an incredible man called Stephen Sutton, who, unless you've been hiding from the news over the past week, has had a pretty turbulent time of late!
This time last week I was feeling incredibly low due to the fact that Stephen had given a "final thumbs up" as he thought he'd reached the end of the road. One of his lungs had collapsed and he was finding it very difficult to breathe. Over the next few days over two million pounds was raised for the Teenage Cancer Trust by people who were inspired by this amazing guy. A guy who has dedicated the last four years of his life to raising money for the Teenage Cancer Trust since being diagnosed with bowel cancer when he was fifteen. Now, it's very easy for someone to just recount statistics and information about how much money Stephen has raised and it certainly doesn't lessen anything that he has achieved, but when I met the man at last Octobers Find Your Sense of Tumour, my life was completely changed and so I would like to give a little bit of an insight into how he managed to do this.
Maybe it'll inspire you too...
When I met Stephen at the annual Teenage Cancer Trust event, a weekend that was created to help young people with cancer meet others who can relate to their situation, I was blown away by the matter of fact nature of the man. I had been diagnosed almost a year before and was still nowhere near coming to terms with the fact that for whatever reason, I had been diagnosed with Leukaemia. In all honesty, I was stuck in the "Why me? It's not fair" situation. Yet when Stephen Sutton ambled onto the stage with a slight hobble and his hands in his pockets I wasn't prepared for my life to be altered so drastically. This man had not only come to terms with the awful knowledge that he had terminal cancer and a terminal cancer that would mean that he wouldn't reach middle age, but he seemed positively buoyant when discussing it! I couldn't fathom how on earth he could feel so at ease talking about his illness and what it meant for his future, but soon I began to understand.
Stephen has a mantra which he strives to instill into people. He spoke of it when he was at Find Your Sense of Tumour and based on his Facebook page and Twitter account, he still lives by this belief.
This time last week I was feeling incredibly low due to the fact that Stephen had given a "final thumbs up" as he thought he'd reached the end of the road. One of his lungs had collapsed and he was finding it very difficult to breathe. Over the next few days over two million pounds was raised for the Teenage Cancer Trust by people who were inspired by this amazing guy. A guy who has dedicated the last four years of his life to raising money for the Teenage Cancer Trust since being diagnosed with bowel cancer when he was fifteen. Now, it's very easy for someone to just recount statistics and information about how much money Stephen has raised and it certainly doesn't lessen anything that he has achieved, but when I met the man at last Octobers Find Your Sense of Tumour, my life was completely changed and so I would like to give a little bit of an insight into how he managed to do this.
Maybe it'll inspire you too...
When I met Stephen at the annual Teenage Cancer Trust event, a weekend that was created to help young people with cancer meet others who can relate to their situation, I was blown away by the matter of fact nature of the man. I had been diagnosed almost a year before and was still nowhere near coming to terms with the fact that for whatever reason, I had been diagnosed with Leukaemia. In all honesty, I was stuck in the "Why me? It's not fair" situation. Yet when Stephen Sutton ambled onto the stage with a slight hobble and his hands in his pockets I wasn't prepared for my life to be altered so drastically. This man had not only come to terms with the awful knowledge that he had terminal cancer and a terminal cancer that would mean that he wouldn't reach middle age, but he seemed positively buoyant when discussing it! I couldn't fathom how on earth he could feel so at ease talking about his illness and what it meant for his future, but soon I began to understand.
Stephen has a mantra which he strives to instill into people. He spoke of it when he was at Find Your Sense of Tumour and based on his Facebook page and Twitter account, he still lives by this belief.
Stephen could not emphasise enough that it is far more important to go out and live every single day as if it was your last instead of waiting for things to just happen. Getting the news that you have cancer is honestly very very strange. Yes, it's also ghastly and scary and all those other things, but certainly for me, there was a sense of "Oh...So what's next?" Stephen had those thoughts too it would seem. Now he chooses to go out and make "what's next" the best that it can be, and that just changed my entire view on being diagnosed. He has inspired me to make the most of every single day, to throw myself into activities that I love and enjoy and that help me achieve my goals. Now, Stephen pulled through this week and even "coughed up a tumour" doing so, believe it or not. However, even today he has posted that he is still riddled with tumours in his legs and lungs and as awful as it is, all that has happened is that he has been bought a little more time. But I know that he will be more determined than ever to make the most of his time left. He has inspired more young lives than he can probably imagine and I am very thankful and feel so privileged that I am one of those many people whose life has been changed because of meeting him. I now appreciate what I do have to live for far more than I did this time last year and his optimism and hope for life has rubbed off on me just enough to make me enjoy life for what it is, rather than for what it could have been.
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