Hey. - I am just a dad........

Well first of all a big apology to all of you trusted followers of Brads blog for not updating you sooner on Brads progress but as you are aware we have been on the business end of why we have come here.

Just  a  quick Hello from the original author, its me, Brad. I have healed a substantial amount over the last few days, and a big part of the healing is being heavily medicated. That is why I have been withdrawn from the writing because my literary skills are not up to scratch and I might altogether forget why I am writing. I only just found out the other night I went on vitamin binge for brain pills, and I have been reassured that my spelling errors are a direct result of the very real narcotics I am on... so if you find some funny typos... I apologize, but they got me on the drugs! and my dad is making sure I do not miss a dose!, so now I leave it back up to the big guy, DW!

Stanford Hospital is becoming like a second home to us. The doctors, nurses and all the nurse aids continue to astound me with their professionalism and dedication to healing people. They have an absolute belief in the institution and the capability of the institution to bring patients back to health again. I have just bumped into the guy who pushed Brads trolley into theatre on the first day when he went for the biopsy. His name is Jimmy and he stops me in the passage and asks me how my son is doing. I give him the latest update and he says " be sure to tell Brad I send my best wishes and that I know he will be ok". Well I am not sure how many trolleys he pushes in a day but it is significant and he still manages to remember Brads name from three days ago. I am about to walk into ICU and the nurse who prepped Brad for his biopsy is walking out of ICU. Her name is Beth and she tells me that she has just popped in to see Brad and he is looking good. She did not have to do that - she was on her way home - but this is the level of commitment that I am talking to you about. It really has made a huge impression on me and makes me want to share this with you all as I believe the more you commit to something you love and are passionate about the more reward and satisfaction you will get out.

nice ding - thanks Griff

I am once again amazed when I look at my boy lying in the bed in ICU with that big smile on his face (and one on the back of his head) - and just two hours ago he was lying in theatre with instruments tinkering around right in the middle of his brain. The ICU nurse station sits between two beds - Brads and some other guy who had been blown up in Afghanistan. She is 100% focussed on these two patients and every reaction, cough or twitch is recorded. She says she has just received a digital alert from pathology that Brads potassium levels are low and she puts up the necessary drip to get his levels up again - everything working like clockwork. She does not leave that station and she wakes Brad every hour to check his vitals. Once again I leave Brad there knowing he is in the best care possible and that makes me feel relieved as I make my way back to the hotel.

in ICU

I get to my room and for the first time I realise how physically and emotionally exhausted I am . I realise that I have have taken myself past a point that I have ever taken myself and wonder how much more there is in me.

Friday 4.00am I am wide awake and I make my way down to the hospital and into ICU. Brad is awake and tells me that he had a late night MRI - all 40 minutes of it. By now Brad's number one enemy is becoming that tunnel in the MRI machine. Every time your body plunges into the depths of the machine he constantly questions what they are going to find this time.This is in huge contrast to the very first MRI he had where he lay there almost questioning why he was wasting people's time by doing this. He even wandered whether they would pick up his smile on the MRI.

3 pm we are due to meet Griff and Dr.Recht (prof Neuro oncology ). They have been held up and tell us they will meet us at Brads station in ICU. Brady is starting to build a phobia about the Dr. meetings as they are always very detailed and truthfull to the last detail and sometimes when you are in these vulnerable situations you feel that you would rather not know - it gives you a false sense of security. One thing that I have learnt in Brads journey is that knowledge is power. When your life is on the line knowledge becomes your greatest ally.

Griff arrives at speed - that's just the way he gets around. He tells us that that the MRI last night has shown that he managed to get more of the tumor out than what he originally thought . He estimates around 2/3's - so that was good news. He informs us that all the tissue that was removed was sent for pathology and that it all tested to be a low grade 2 Pineal tumor so that was also good news. He also tells us that the cyst was removed completely and that all looks good.

Griff tells us that the Tumor Board had met earlier to discuss Brads case. And just in case you have different illusions of what constitutes a tumour board let me put your mind at rest. It probably constitutes the highest concentration of medical genius' that you could possibly put around one table.

Griff tells us that there was some healthy discussion in Brads case and that general consensus believes that the best way forward would be to to have focussed radiation to the remaining tumour and the immediate surrounds so that we can eradicate the tumour itself and the little appendages that are adhering it to the wall of the 3rd ventricle. They are advocating a 6 week course.

Dr Recht and Dr Thomas both Profs of Neuro oncology arrive and inform us that they also agree with the suggestion that Griff has told us. One thing that you realise in this game is that the Doctors will give you the utmost professional advise and recommendation but at the end of the day the decision is yours and, man, they are big decisions. You've all heard the saying " a bad decision is better than no decision" . Well you question that for the first time knowing what the consequences of a bad decision can be. So every decision is the biggest you've ever made and you research and study every alternative in the minutest detail - there is a lesson in that!!

So now we know where we are headed and we have one more meeting with Dr. Gibbs ( Prof of Radiotherapy and one of the people involved in the development of the cyberknife project).The good news is that we can do this radiation in London. All of a sudden it dawns on me how lonely it's been. We are in the best place in the world to deal with Brady's tumour but you are alone out there. Support from family and friends has been unbelievable but been out of reach takes its toll. I also realise how technology has changed our lives. FaceTime and Skype have added a new dimension to the world in which we live and I wander how much it would have changed in 5 years time - and are we thinking about that.

you gotta love technology and what it brings

Here I am sitting in Silicon Valley - the home of Apple and FaceTime and Skype.and I can connect to family, friends and business associates across the world. I eve's dropped into a conversation at the hotel the other day. The hotel I am in is the official gathering place for the elite of the Valley. Two engineers were talking to a sponsor - obviously looking for investment. I overheard the one engineer saying to the sponsor " we spend to much time designing for whats now and not enough time designing for what's next". That made me think a bit....... ,!!

Back to ICU -  two more professors come in Dr Lopez and Dr. Nguyen ( Prof of Neuro sciences) . These are the guys that constantly were monitoring Brads neurological responses throughout the operation. The reason for the visit was that something happened with Brad that they have only had two previous cases of. Brad had bitten his Tongue in response to one of the impulses that they had initiated. The guard which prevents him from doing so must have dislodged and the result was a seriously swollen and bruised Tongue - only Brad.

nice bite

So one day later they are ready to let Brad go from ICU but I think Brad quite fancied the attention there so on one of the nurses's attempts to get Brad mobile he proceeded to vomit all over her foot. Apparently fairly common as the blood in the floor of the ventricle (in the brain) from the op can swirl around and cause nausea.

We leave Brad knowing that in the morning he would have moved to a general ward. This being 1 day after brain surgery!!!

Saturday morning I am up early and get down to the hospital full of optimism knowing that we are a day further away from the surgery and knowing that each day from here on Brad will be feeling better than the previous day. What greeted me I simply was not ready for and I felt like I had walked into a right hook. Brad was down, he was aching everywhere and feeling the full effects of serious surgery. So it was going to be a long day!! We manage to pick him up and Griff comes to see us and tells us that that Brad is doing fantastically well and if we can get him onto his feet he can go home. Home being the hotel.

first bath - still loyal to the brands

So 2 days after brain surgery Brad is in the car and we are on the way to the hotel. That night I think I got to understand what it must be like to be an ICU nurse on her first night of duty. I had Brad back in the bed next to me - for that I will be eternally grateful but it was a sleepless night with having to be up to administer medication and your subconscious becomes programmed to detect any abnormal noise emanating from your responsibility.

Sunday morning greats us with a booming headache and Brad is battling. He had been sleeping so well I skipped his one pain medication time slot. Lesson learnt - we won't do that again as it takes a couple of hours to get the pain under control again but he recovered well and in no time we were on our first big walk and had lunch, in the sun, at the main hotel verandah.

up and about

 

Sunday dinner was the same tomato soup we had for lunch and roast chicken with veg. We are feeling good and strong after the walk and eager for an early night. I give Brad his meds and look forward to a good night sleep.

Wrong!! 12 midnight I had just given Brad his meds and he tells me he is feeling nauseas. Nausea after brain surgery is a warning sign. With that he makes his way to the bath room and I jump up to help him and just missed the first vomit missile which was followed up by a second big one.

Now it was time to find all those numbers that the hospital gives you that you never think you will need and you are half asleep yourself. I eventually get put through to the Neurosurgeon on duty and explain what has just gone down - or should I say what has just shot out!! He asks all sorts of questions and tells me to watch him closely. Thanks mate - like I needed to hear that. So that's my sleep for the night!

Monday morning and anyone may have mistaken who had just had brain surgery - me or Brad. And then I get a mail from one of the guys at work - " you know who you are and I want you to know what that meant to me at that particular time".

This is what it said

"Hi Derek
I deliberated for some time about mailing you. My hesitation for doing
so was predominately to do with respect. That may sound odd, but in my
mind, out of respect I shouldn't be "bothering" you.

Then I read your blog posts again and I realized it would be remiss of
me to not send you this mail. I say that because I've come to the
realization that you are no different to any other father. Your love
and admiration for your boy is tangible. I've always had the utmost
respect for you in the 13 odd years I've known you. I have however
over the years developed my own somewhat distorted perspective on you
as an individual. Your successes and the fact you are my business
leader have put you in a place that seems somewhat distant from my
reality. But as you write so beautifully and with such transparency
about your love for Brad, I now see you as quite simply a father
focussing all of his attention and endless energy on what matters most
to you in life. And that's fantastic!

I admire you immensely for sharing your most personal feelings. My
respect for you has taken on a new level. No longer are you that
determined, passionate, trusted man who cares so much about his
business and the people that work with him. You are all that, but at
the same time, and for me more importantly, you are a loving father
holding his sons hand so damn tight as you both fight your way through
a challenging time.

I wish you all the strength in the world. I know you and Brad will succeed.

Take care Derek. See you soon."

That made me realise that above everything else that I may or may not be - I AM A DAD and that is something so special that you should never take for granted

thanks dad..

I am just a dad ...........!!!

In your hands......

Wednesday 7.30pm the phone rings. "hi Derek , it's Griff (Prof of Neuro surgery) here" and in his calm and assuring way he proceeded to tell me that he had just consulted with Prof.Lawrence Recht (Prof of neuro oncology) and that Brads tumor is a low grade 2 Penial tumor . As i said before everything in this game changes and evolves as new findings present themselves and Griff tells me that because it is a low grade 2 (good news by the way) they believe that the best option will be to surgically remove it.

We had at this stage thought that they may have ruled out surgery. Griff asked whether we wanted to do it the next morning or next week. I said I would discuss it with Brad and get back to him. I got back to the table to tell Brad the good news and his head literally hit the table. Now you have to understand what this little 24 year old has been through in just over a month. He just did not want more brain surgery although he had full faith in Griffs recommendation. I told him to make the call once he had spoken to Griff who had been in surgery since 11am, and it was approaching 8pm. You simply have to be in awe of this man. We made the call just after 8pm and Griff answered and spoke to Brad and after a couple of minutes I heard Brad saying to him " okay Griff I am with you - let's take this thing out in the morning".
Instantly our gourmet meal turned into dough. We got the bill and went home - our home for the next couple of weeks anyway.

This type of reality will always present itself at some stage but no matter who you are or how big you think you are, when it does arrive at your doorstep you are never ready for it. It suddenly hit Brady squarely in the face and I could see a little dent appear in his incredible armour that you have been reading about in his prior blogs. That resolent air and mighty resolve had taken it's first beating. We had to pick him up!!. I once again confirmed that we came here on a mission. We found (thanks Stuart)the best Institution in the World with the best Professionals, with the best equipment and that he now needs to drive that car out of the pits and drive it with all the guts and determination that we now know he has.

He asked me one question before he went to bed "dad you trust Griff hey?". I said I have complete faith in him and he said "me too" and rolled over and went to sleep.

4.00am the alarm booms out. Brad is up to have a Skype session with Al before we have to leave for the 5 minute drive to the hospital. It is a different Brad to the one that hauled me out the bed two days ago. He was scared . The unknown is terrifying and he constantly asks for assurance that everything is going to be ok.

5.15am. We arrive at the hospital and you are immediately transformed into a world of calm and "hey we've done this before". Brad immediately relaxes and the cogs in this institutional machine begin to turn like clockwork. Brad checks into theatre and he is immediately whipped off for his MRI - thank goodness we left his fiduciaries in place. Anyone who does not know what a fiducial is go back a couple of blogs and you will see a pic of him. They look like baby bagels that are stuck all over his head apparently in an order that keeps all the digital technology aligned frOm one procedure to the next. We nearly took them off last night as we thought we were going down the chemo/ radiation route. You get unbelievable attention when you go into a restaurant with fiducials on your head and a dressing with a smidge of blood on it, on the back of your head.

Dr. Tian ( Neuro surgeon) explains the procedure to us and tells us that they may go in where they went in for his biopsy or they may go in at the back where they think the best angle of attack may be. They are going to open him up and then with microscopic instruments they will remove the tumor.

7am Dr. Lemmens (Prof of anesthesiology ) arrives us and tells us that he is looking after Brad today and once again without saying it you get a warm sense of knowing that Brad is in the best hands and that they have done this before. Just before that Myer Rosenthal ( Professor Emiritus, anesthesia) . Emiritus I think means that you don't ask him questions he's in charge. All this Professor attention just continues to assure and by the time they are ready to wheel our boy off he pronounces " I am ready for this".

7.15am on the button they wheel Brady off for the biggest challenge of his life waving as he disappears through the theatre doors. For Brady, time today will be compacted into an instant as 6 hours , or so, of the greatest professional care and skill gets compressed into a millisecond. For us the longest day of our lives has just begun. We set up base in the International Medical Centre which is a facility for foreigners that provides you with anything from food and drink to computer and phoning facilities. You get assigned a PA (Christiane)who chaperones you and keeps in comms with the theatre and the progress they are making on Brad.

11am Christaine gets an update and tells us that they actually started the procedure just before 9am having spent the first 1 3/4 hrs prepping him in theatre and all that stuff that we don't really know about. She says that they say it is going well and are making good progress.

So here I sit with my son on the table with his head open up. I sit with a, feeling I have never felt before - well certainly not to this extent. For the first time in my life I am feeling totally out of control in dealing with the situation that is going on right around the corner from where I sit and it involves my own sons life - AND I AM RELAXED !!! Well comparatively and I realize that there is another factor that we all take for granted and that we should never underestimate the power of it.

TRUST is an unbelievable thing. I have just put my sons life into the hands of a man that I met for the first time on Monday and today is Thursday - or is it? Who cares but that is the reality. It has made me ask the question - how many people do I really really trust - people you have known for years and then here, after just three days I trust this man explicitly - and his team. The reason for that is quite simple - Griff and his team have proven their credentials and demonstrate an amazing level of honesty and commitment to what they do and how they do it -something we are maybe all a bit guilty of.

The other side of that is when you also come to realize that you can't do everything yourself and that you have to be able to trust others. Every time you jump in a plane and travel half way around the world you jump in without interviewing the pilot and the rest of the crew - do you trust them or do you just take it for granted. I would guess the latter. But when it comes to your brain and your very own sons brain you do your home work, you rely on other people's opinion as we did with Stuart and Stephan and probably the guy I trust most in this world -Richard. And you commit to that belief in these guys and my last words to Griff on the phone last night was- " Griff he is in your, and your team's hands now and I trust you will bring him back to me in good health".

I sit here right now waiting for that moment with an absolute belief in their capabilities and Brady's determination.

As I was finishing that he was wheeled out of theatre and into ICU. We have just seen him and managed to get permission for him to speak to Al on the phone. She asked him how he was feeling and he said to her "I feel like I have just had brain surgery". So we have our Brady back but it is hard to believe that he has just had 6 hours of brain surgery. He is just unbelievable.

We have also just spoken to Griff who tells us that the cyst that was in the first ventricle was purely a cyst and totally benign and managed to remove it so that is good news. He managed to get quite a bit of the tumor out but some of it was embedded in the wall of the 3rd ventricle so it sounds like they will use cyberknife to get the rest out. We will know more about the rest of Brady's treatment tomorrow.

"To trust, you first need to be trusted ..it's in your hands...."

24 January 2012 Biopsy Day

A 4.15 alarm gets us both moving after a restless nighs sleep. I lean over to Brady and ask him if he is ready for this. He jumps out of bed and says "dad, let's go and do this. We have to get this thing out of my head". I kind of sheepishly drag myself out and almost feel like saying" ok boy, I'm coming don't leave me behind". I felt like it should have been the other way around. I am still astounded by his courage.

Once again the Stanford Medical Centre has amazed me. For an institution so large everything works. When they say he is going in at 7.15 it is 7.15. The specialists cycle past you like clockwork and before you know it Brad is prepped up with MRI stick things ( sorry forgotten the technical name - something like feducials) and a whole lot of marker pen marks on his forehead.I will tryband post some pics so look out for that.
Before we know it, it is time to say goodbye and off he gets wheeled - waving as he goes. All of a sudden the clock slows down. Time just seems to stand still and as much as you don't want to ,your mind starts to wrestle with you as you want to shut out any negative thoughts but you are human after all and these little thoughts kreep in. All of a sudden Griff is in front of us and explains what he has done and what his findings are. Lots of technical jargon but this is the lay mans version.
He inserted the scope into the upper ventricle where the cyst was sitting. They did a biopsy and this proved to be purely a cyst which was holding some fluid - good news. They passed through the cyst and we don't need to worry about that anymore. They then progressed down to the tumor and extracted a piece of tissue for biopsy.
He explains that Brad has a Pineal tumor which sits in the Pineal region - pretty much in the middle of the brain. These tumors are graded 1-4 with 1 being benign and 4 being malignant and quite aggressive. Griff and his team think that Brads is a 1 or 2 so that is comforting. We will only know once the biopsy tissue goes for further testing and Griff tells me has got the head od pathology onto this. We will know tomorrow about lunch time.
The options of treatment are as follows but again one thing that you learn quickly when it comes to treating cancer, things change as the professional team explores different options.
If it is a 1 then they will resect the tumor surgically. If it is 2 they will either do it by using a combination of surgery and cyberknife or surgery and radiation. It all rests on the outcome of the biopsy so we wait until tomorrow midday to find out.
In the meantime Griff returns to theatre and comes back 5 minutes later to tell us that Brad has responded to him telling him to move his eyes and to squeeze his hands- great news. 15 mins later the recovery doctor tells us to come in and see Brad and there he is sitting up , a bit groggy, but cracking a joke or two. We even managed to let him have a chat to Al. Quite remarkable.
Griff then tells us that he will be able to come out this evening - who said brain surgery was hectic - unbelievable!so round 1 is behind us and we are optimistic. It has been a long day. As I write this a lady pitches up and starts playing a harp - maybe this is a dream!!!

From Mentor to mentored........

"hi Derek it's Stephan (Brad's neuro surgeon) here. Are you sitting down".
Those were the words that changed my life. A transformation of values happened in an instant. You can never prepare yourself for something like this so don't even try. Instinct kicks in and you suddenly realise that shock was invented to take you through this initial stage of the surreal. Then slowly you thaw out as the adrenalin induced stupor that you have been in subsides and you realise that you have a couple of options and I won't waste your time even contemplating the others but you quickly realise that you have to face this adversary and throw every ounce of energy that you have at it. I have had many challenges in my life but none can compare to the one that sits squarely in my sights as I write this blog for my boy.

You have all being following a journey of unbelievable courage and determination and just when I thought I knew everything about my very own son he has shown me a side that I will draw inspiration from for the rest of my life. When someone tells you that you have a brain tumour your psyche plummets you down the tube of doom and gloom. It is in our instincts. No one tells you this. It takes a special being to pick yourself up and to turn this into an inspirational tale that will help others to deal with adversity no matter how big or how small. Just when I thought that I would always be the mentor for my family my very own son becomes my mentor.

You spend your whole life building value and you suddenly realise that that value has a whole different value than you ever imagined. Value normally transforms into material investments which inherently are completely emotionally valueless. I have just made the greatest investment I have ever made and it is an investment that is full of emotion and carries value that is not describable. My investment into my sons treatment and return to health will be my greatest investment and the one that I will be the most proud of. I will walk taller than I have ever walked when I return off that plane and am able to tell you all that Brad is cured.

Now don't get me wrong it is not just about an investment. When an F1 team wants to win the title they need the best car, the best team boss, the best team and the best driver. We have Stanford Advanced Medical Centre and that is exactly what it is "advanced". It has the most state of the art equipment that gives us options no matter where or how Brads tumour is located. Our Team boss is Dr. Griff Harsh whose credentials are exhaustive and having met Griff yesterday he brings a calm sense of confidence to us and we walk forward with an absolute belief in his ability to deal with Brads tumour. The team behind Griff are leaders in their respective fields and I have never experienced these levels of commitment and professionalism anywhere. And finally if you have a driver that lacks confidence, determination and guts that formula 1 car won't get out the pits. Brady is driving this challenge for his life with a determination,commitment and a guts like i have never seen before.I am so proud of him!

As I write this Brad is in theatre. Yesterday Dr.Harsh ( Griff) eXplained to us on closer examination it looks as if there is some form of cyst in Brads 2nd ventricle and he has decided to change the angle of attack for the biopsy to come in from the top right hand side of his head. He did say that when he has done the biopsy and ascertained what it is he may even resect the tumour today. Whichever way it is I know that Brady is in the best possible hands and care and we sit here waiting for a positive result.

Thought for the day: "when you think you have dug deep, dig deeper - there is a lot more in you than you will ever believe"
Brady has taught us a lesson in that.
Till the next one
Brad's Dad

Calm Under Fire

I have written about variables, the inevitable human nature of chasing time, the determination of the mind to be able to fight, and the important thresholds we all encounter in life. I know write to you from the other side of the threshold, I am now a patient of the Stanford Advanced Cancer Research Institute. My step into the unknown has so far been interesting, I now have new found respect and meaning for "interesting" but I will delve into that later. 

I have never been a sporting prodigy, but for those of us that have played some form of sport you would know about being under fire or pressure and it takes a special resolve to be able to absorb, adapt and react to being under pressure. We may encounter pressures from work, family or everyday stresses.  I feel I have a strong resolve to maintain my composure, the ability to keep calm when our worlds seem to be falling down around us. In a typical high pressure situation our bodies stiffen and our reactions to whatever environmental stimulus are swift and with meaning. When I was told about the tumor in my brain, I adapted, I shifted my mindset from whatever menial obstacle lay in my path and immediately focused on the massive task that lay ahead of me. 

This calm has allowed me to absorb the information, process the variables, assess my situation and move on. In life, when we have these unique situations we can either stick around and fight, or run. As in any bad movie, if you run, they will find you, the hero never runs or in this case the guy who gets to be alive at the end. We all have to face our fight, that unique time in life that determines your existence and your survival. I have accepted my situation and it has given me a calm. This calm was then obliterated this morning when I met my neurosurgeon.

My neurosurgeon, Dr/Professor Griffith Harsh is a rockstar of the neurosurgeon world. He only focus on neuro-oncology and is Stanfords lead-director in any programs that incorporate neuro-oncology. This is the man that will be delving into the depths of my brain and will be extracting this tumor, whether it be by radiation of surgery. I met with him for the first time this morning, and he was is a completely unassuming man, neatly dressed in a suit and tie with an incredible bedside manner. We shook hands and I instantly felt at ease, this is the man to make me better. We got talking, and after a short while he extracted my MRI scans from last month, and he pointed out the mass in my brain that sits just in front of the pineal region of my brain. He then proceeded to identify a cyst that has formed in my 1^st ventricle as well as some other, as yet, unidentified mass. It is for this reason that they will now be entering the centre of my brain through the parietal lobe of my brain. In lay mans term this is the top part of my brain, and as my cyst, unidentified mass and tumor are on the right hand side, it seems logical that they enter through the right.

The wave of fear and panic hit me again as he informed me that I now have the tumor, the cyst and the mass, and as quickly as the fear arose, so it began to subside. I remembered why I am here. I am in the hub of neuro-oncology, whatever they find they have found before, and they will eliminate. Once Dr. Harsh had rattled my world, we had pre-op forms to fill out, that requires about 8 vials of blood, a whole battery of physical tests and more questions. This whole process is aided by the friendliness of the hospital staff and their determination to uphold the name of Stanford. Once pre-op was over, we headed back to the hotel for some down time and a skype session with loved ones.

MRI time, and for those of you who are familiar with this blog will know my feelings towards this screeching black tunnel. It feels as if the sounds emitted from this machine warm the very core of your body as it systematically images and plots the body. The radiologists know exactly what they are focusing in on, this time they are doing focused images of the route, nevertheless they need to inject the dye into my bloodstream to allow the MRI to pick up the fine details of my brain.
Of course fear creeps into my mind, I would not be human if it didn’t. The fear of something going wrong, the doctors finding something other than what they intended, or that something else far more sinister and impacting will occur. But as quickly as that fear creeps into my thought, so it must be eradicated. For that fear harbors negativity, and provides absolutely nothing beneficial. I can comfort in knowing that Dr. Harsh has done this operation hundreds if not thousands of times in the past. The brain is his work and surgery is his expression session. I have come half way round the world to see this man about my brain, and so far he has not failed to impress.

There are a lot of things you can be and do on the night before your surgery. I have chosen to spend it with my parents. We have just finished up having dinner at the hotel, and although they have seen their differences in the past, it is good to see that they have found common ground in wanting to get me healed. Over the course of dinner, and the day in fact, I continually forgot that I had these little plastic markers called fiducials, the little plastic markers that will be used during the course of my operation tomorrow to plot the major landmarks on my face (as if my pronounced jawbone and button nose weren’t enough :) ). 

At the moment I am experiencing a calm, because I know am at the junction between control and letting go. I have done my very best to everything necessary to ensure that I come out of this on top, and the remainder of the job is up to the men and women who will be conducting my operation. I have calm because there is no point in fretting about the what if’s and I never hope to have to wonder about what if’s again. They are the small things that keep you down, as opposed to lifting yourself up and going for the things that really matter in life. I write to you now at the close of this very important chapter, the chapter that needed to happen so I could begin my pah to recovery.


My dad will take over the writing for the next few posts, so take it easy on the big guy... he is still learning.


Find below pics of my fiducial markers on my face and head, as well as the one everyone has waited for. The pic of the MRI of my brain and the tumor. R50 to see who can find it first. 

 So these are the fiducial markers and the marker in the top part of my head is where they will be going on. It may be hard for people to process, but I just really want them to go in there as soon as possible.

And here it is, here is my beautiful, twisted brain. This pic was taken before my VP shunt, so this is when the swelling was at an all time high and there was 4 X the normal pressure in my 1 and 2 ventricles. The ventricles are the black spaces you see in the very middle of my head. The cyst is the grey matter at the back of my ventricle. The tumor, little bastard, is.... that grey/white ball formed in under my ventricles. It looks like a shrivelled up walnut, and it is about 2cms, which makes it an average size tumor, as tumors go. If you cant see it, look at the black space in the middle of my head, then look directly under that. There will be some debate amongst you latent neurosurgeons, but fear not, that is where it is. 


I hope this helped somewhat, and next time I post on here I will have a much better indication of my road to recovery. So fear not family, loved ones and friends, this boy is not rolling over, I am more determined than ever that I will beat this thing. I love you all, until we meet again my friends, love Brad.

Threshold

In life we all stand on the precipice of thresholds, but very few of those moments are the ones that define us as individuals, and inevitably break down our character to expose any potential flaws and gradually builds us back up to be able to step over that threshold and face whatever obstacle lies ahead of us. I stand on the precipice of one of those thresholds. The life-defining threshold, which will mould me into the person I am meant to be, because I do believe this happened to make me into that person.

I apologize if this post is disjointed at times, tomorrow and Tuesday are the most significant days of my life and thus my attention seems broken. I remain resolute in my stance that I am not scared, there is nothing to fear but fear itself. I am in the best hands possible, my mind is ready and I have the most unfaltering support team possible.

Having said that, the mind still thinks and I am only human. What has kept my mind busy is the unknown variables, the fact that I do not know what they will find in there (my brain). I am ready for the operation, that requires very little on my part, I arrive, give them my arm, let the team know that I am ready and then off to sleep I go. I am not so excited about the tests I will endure today. My Monday will most probably comprise of a battery of medical tests that incorporate blood tests, physical checks, medical history, scans, MRI’s and whatever else they can throw at me. I knew full well what I was getting myself into, and I know that these tests are par for the course. The mind will still play the game of unknown variables.

I have always believed in a simple philosophy, “Start in the beginning, go until the end, then Stop”. That is precisely how I intend to fight this battle, from beginning to end, with everything I have. I know the road is long, and testing, but I also know that the people supporting me will help me ride out the storm. I have made sure that whatever happens, I will endure this journey and I will be as positive as possible throughout. At times it is and will continue to be lonely in America, I miss my family and friends back home but I am not here to whimper, this requires a strong constitution and a mind focused on the task.

In Pursuit of Daylight

The Pursuit of Daylight

At times I completely forget the little mass growing in the cavities of my brain, for some instances it can seem as if life is carrying on as per normal. As I draw nearer to my final destination those moments occur less and less frequently and it is a constant reminder of the task that lies at hand. I am yet again in an aero plane, this time en route to San Francisco, America. I am making this journey in conjunction with the one I made to london as that little mass, embedded deep within my brain matter is urging me to, it is propelling me to test the physical and psychological limits of my body. I say bring it on, I am tougher than a little piece of foreign matter.

It is posing me with the question for which there can only be two outcomes. Dr Stephan Joubert, my neurosurgeon, when posed the same question by me replied "you take it out, or you die". Sobering words, and I appreciated every syllable of them. They were the words I needed to hear to allow the gravity of the situation and of my fight to land. This mass growing in my head has driven me around the world in search of a cure, and when I find that cure I will be a stronger person. I will be a better person, more appreciative, more accepting. It is only when you are faced with the end of something, that you try to clutch on to the pieces that made the journey.

At the moment our Boeing 747-400 is hurtling through the atmosphere at 987kms, and we are at 34 000 feet above sea level, the cabin has been dimmed, and people are settling down for a nap. My dad is sleeping, disjointed as it may appear at the moment, and my mom should be landing soon as she was on an earlier flight. She, just as we are, should be fighting against the hours gained. I cannot imagine what I have put them, my loved ones and friends through. For this I will always be in your debt. No one should ever have to endure the hardships of this kind of battle. In this occasion, it is easier being the person with the tumor.

I find myself increasingly scared of the time, and it's infinite history and indefinite future. I am not scared of death, we have no influence on when it occurs, and won't know when it happens anyway. What does scare me is what I will leave behind, my family and friends, and the situation I will leave them in. I am not talking about now, but years down the line once I have lived my life, it is just a reality none of us ever really want to face. At the moment it feels like I am in a wrestling match with an opponent wearing a mask, I can't see his face or predict his movements. I have always had a phobia for the unknown, hence my insatiable need for knowledge and the need to consume facts and figures, I want to be able to rattle off anything lest I should forget it. At the moment I am in a vacuum of the unknown, but not for long, I will soon know my exact route and I always feel it is better to know your enemy regardless of their ferocity.

I am sitting, staring at the aircrafts moving map, and I am watching our plane move against the flow of time, and in fact moving back. When I land in San Francisco we would have gained 8 extra hours that belong to the 20th January 2012, so my day would be a 32 hour one. That makes me content, because it's not very often that you gain 8 hours when you are 72 hours away from brain surgery, I am fighting with all my might for every second. Dr Stuart Kidgell told me about a book called "Chasing Daylight", and he read it prior to finding out about his brain cancer, and I am reading it during my bout, I hope we are not starting a trend nor creating a requirement. It is about the president of KPMG's battle with the megaball of brain cancers, the one that nobody wants; or that is at least how Stuart put it. The book follows the final three months of his life, and documents how extraordinarily a person can live in that short space of time. I want to live those three months, on repeat for the next 77 years of my life (I plan to die at 101).

The name also struck a chord with me, Chasing Daylight, because that is essentially what myself and every loved one I have is doing at the moment. We are clawing to the minutes and seconds we have at our disposal and we are holding onto them, trying to recycle them in exchange for more time. No one can really live on borrowed time. We should all strive to make those moments happen everyday. I wish I could express the calm I have been experiencing over the past few weeks, I am learning acceptance and patience, everything seems a little sweeter,every hug a little tighter, and every goodbye that much harder. Through all the toils and tears, realizing the beauty of each moment puts a smirk on my face because I wish everybody felt it without having to go through what I am.

Time is trying to catch up with me, and it is a mistress I will not answer to yet. Life is for the living, so let it be lived everyone.

The Distance Between Us

As the 23rd draws nearer and the inevitable approaches, it reminds me of a calm before the storm, or the deep breath before the plunge down a rollercoaster designed to test my limits emotionally, physically and psychologically. The clutches of reality slowly begin to tighten their grasp and there is only one way, and that is forward. It is a funny feeling having to accept the indefinite limits of time, and how best to use them. I have chosen to spend my last night in London with my family and new addition to the family, Bella.

As in anything in life, you only appreciate the good moments when something threatens your right to have these moments. I am now on constant alert to find these moments and hold on to them as long as I can, that is why I am writing this blog, so I can store these moments even when I am in my darkest hour. I have experienced dark moments, when the tumor begins to weigh down on my body and feel unrealistically big. I must not forget that it is 2cm's and an invader that has no right in my body. It will try to wage war on my emotions and at the moment it feels like shadow boxing, I am swinging at an enemy that lurks in the dark. Next week I will find and know my enemy.

We all lose sight of what is important in life, and I am fortunate at this young age to get clarity on this, albeit at a cost. I have never lose sight of the importance of friends, and their invaluable, unbiased, unyielding support. Happiness and sorrow have only 1 common ground, and that is peoples ability to to group behind people in moments of both. I have experienced such unbelievable support from all reaches of the globe, and that is testament to the infallible friends that I have made along my short yet well spent life.

Seeking treatment in a foreign country is a daunting prospect, fortunately there will not be a language barrier. Stanford is an incredible facility that offers the most advanced research in Neuro Oncology in the world. That is why I am there, to undergo treatment at a facility that fights and wins this battle thousands of time a year. Going there was a "No Brainer", and I remain resolute in my family and friends decision to seek treatment there.  There was only one reason that made me apprehensive about getting treatment overseas, and that was not being with the people I needed most when the chips are down and I am needing people to pick me up. Social media has shown its advantages, people have always been aware of my whereabouts and my movement patterns. I met up with friends in Cape Town, where they showed unwavering support and helped curb my mind from the task at head. True friends are the ones that never change, regardless of the amount of time in between seeing them. I sat with close friends for the most past of yesterday, and for the first time this week I relaxed and enjoyed the company, apart from being with the Taylors and Bella, thank you to those special people, you know who you are.

I realized that although we may be thousands of kilometers apart, and we all have our lives, loves and challenges, that we all need each other in order to calm the craziness in our lives. It is very easy to get daunted by the massive task that lies ahead of me, but seeing everyone and feeding off their positive energy has allowed me to focus my thoughts into seeing those people again. I have met so many people in the past month, and I am so open to the idea of meeting more people and hearing their stories. This is not me saying "goodbye" or salut, but rather "until we meet again" my friends. So "au voir" and remember time is the longest distance between two places, and not distance itself.

The Little Things... or a combination thereof.

In the past month I have been subject to a whole host of new ideas, people and possibilities. I have accepted that there are things that are out of my control and that life is something to be enjoyed. You always tell yourself that in these sort of situations that you need to be positive, and 95% of the time I am. Its the down time, the time when your mind plays tricks against you, the 5 second day dream that results in a morning of compounded thought. It reminds me of inception, the planting of an idea in your psyche, and how that idea manifests until it consumes you. People can prepare for both the positive and negative, I find it easier and more beneficial to remain on the positive, and to somehow channel the negative.

Every good business person knows that a negative to one, should always be perceived as a positive by another. I am learning the art of turning negatives into positives, and it truly is a lesson hard learned. When you get diagnosed with a brain tumor, it is scary, and after that resultant fear has subsided, you begin to be able to live again. Its the small things in life that takes its toll. A brain tumor, or any tumor, is such a consuming subject that the mind only focuses on that and prepares for the immense battle that lies ahead. Your mind needs to prepare itself for the small battles, the battles that will be fought internally, with yourself, everyday. I experienced many of those little battles today, the scratching of the shunt (the pipe offering drainage of my spinal fluid from my 3rd ventricle down to my abdomen) in my tummy, the mental battle of trying to stay positive not only to yourself but to people around you, and then sympathizing when you hear that brain tumors are more common than you thought.

We all have these little fights, and none is more or less significant than the others. But along with the little fights, come lifes little pleasures. Yesterday I had the pleasure of meeting my niece, Isabella Grace Taylor, for the first time. Meeting her changed my perception of the limits I would go to for someone I have known for a matter of minutes. She managed to completely remove my thought from what is going on in the world, and the hardships that we all face. Meeting her allowed me respite from my problems and I became focused on making sure she was happy. I am determined to find more moments like that, the combination of those little things or moments, that ultimately result in a life of happiness. I know the things that make me happy, being with my family, friends and Ally. I truly do not care where I am in the world, so long as I am with the people that make me happy. 

Last year, 2011, was probably the most character defining year of my life. My parents got divorced, I started my career, and I moved to Durban, away from Alice. It was like a triple header, I felt I was being pulled in more ways than humanly possible. Divorce happens, no one ever asks for it, but ultimately all you want is for your parents to be happy, and they are getting there. My career at Barrows has endless opportunities, and the only one to define the boundaries to these possibilities is me. The hardest of the challenges was being away from Ally, and I am determined to never have to endure that again. She doesnt deserve the hardships she had to endure this past year.

On my 24th Birthday I sat with a close friend, Daniel Airey, and we reflected on 2011. I jokingly stated that it had been the hardest year ever and that things couldnt get any worse... how wrong I was, 2 weeks later and a few MRI's are testament to that. But there was another one of lifes little lessons, that you have to realise how lucky we all are, and that there is always someone out there fighting a harder battle.

Life can be a combination of all the little battles, or you can make it into a combination of things that make you happy, it all lies with your mindset and your ability to turn a negative into a positive. I know that this battle will make me a better person, a person with more respect for life's little pleasures.

Variable Change

As I write this blog we are flying at 37000 feet above sea level, Most passengers have taken to sleep, I have taken to writing. I now know which route I have taken, and those are the variables that I can control, of course there is a multitudinous amount of things that can go wrong... But as it is in life, I have no bearing on those variables. I have made sure that everything that I can control is being done to the best of my and my teams ability. I am on the threshold of the most important next few months of my life, and I am prepared for the fight, because that is essentially what it boils down to, you fight for your life, with every ounce of it you have left.

 

I am on my way to Stanford University, Palo Alto aka Silicon Valley (named after the silicon computer chip, not implants) where I will begin my treatment. At the moment I have no idea what to expect, all I do understand is that they will be performing a biopsy of the tumor in my brain. Sorry for the gory details, but I am going to be as honest as possible over the next few weeks. The biopsy begins with drilling a hole into my forehead, and then inserting an endoscopic microscope through that hole. They will then work through my frontal lobe, corpus calossum, and into my 1&2 ventricles, where they then will descend into my 3rd ventricle. Once there, they will begin the tedious task of determining what this tumor is, and remove it somehow. The outcome of the biopsy will be to know the enemy, and I have every intention of eradicating this slow growing mass from every living organism in my body.

 

As in flying across the world, there are risks with the operation. But I accept these risks, these are the risks that people need to understand in order to drive the human psyche further. Of course brain surgery has risks, but I also have full faith in my team as well as my doctors at Stanford. These are the people that will be in my head, and It provides an unnatural feeling that they will be in my brain, moving amongst my most private thoughts, with very small tolerances for error. But asked if I would rather roll over and let this consume me, my answer would be never. To get into the belly of this beast, they have to get into my brain, and I do not have the tools necessary for that. The doctors at Stanford do. 

 

I have made sure that my life is in control, I am doing what I need to to ensure that when I give them my arm and say "boys lets go, I will see you on the other side", that I am comfortable. My relationships with my loved ones and friends are strong, and I am constantly reminded of their incredible strength and support everyday. My body is strong, or at least stronger than most believe it is. I have endured a large number of operations and I'm in for more, but I will take them. I am fortunate that I have unbelievable friends who are willing to scale the lengths of the world to be with me. To everyone back home, I have no doubt that you wish you were on this plane with me. Ally, not even 18260 km will keep me from you.

 

Then there are the uncontrollable variables, and in this case it is daunting to think my life could be coming to an end. But its in times like this that you realize the importance of living, I am 24 and I have accepted the the fact that i have a brain tumor, and the idea of death, but I will not succumb to her call... Not yet. I have a lot of fight within me, and I will walk away from this stronger. My strongest asset is my mind, because it is there that any battle is won or lost, and this whole fight, mentally and physically is happening in my head. 

 

I would not wish this on anyone, no person deserves the torment of cancer or tumors lodged in the centre of their brain. Accepting that these things happens helps, and I feel that I would not let anyone fight this battle for me. I know I can beat this, I know my number is not up, and I'm ready for the fight. My controllable variables are all in order, and as for the uncontrollables...I don't have a bearing on them anyway, so I might as well enjoy the ride.

 

What's really going on in there?

We are constantly asked the same question everyday, whether it be by friends, work colleagues or someone you've met for the first time, "so what's going on?". Generally my answer used to be the same, however, that question now has a completely new meaning for me, because at this moment in time I truly have no idea, all I do know is that there is a tumor in my head that needs to removed either through radiation or surgery. In the beginning of this whole ordeal I would conjure up what knowledge I have of the situation and slowly break it down for the unprepared listener, I have now learnt to apply 3 versions: short, medium and long. Even though the versions are always different, the outcome always remains. For those of you who unaware of my current diagnosis, I will try to explain this in the best manner possible... In laymans terms, "what's really going on in there!"

Firstly I am not a medical man, I will leave that up to my doctors, both locally and internationally, they are the real heroes behind all of this and I am one piece of a massive puzzle, as is every person in the fight with the unknown. With that being said, I will try to explain this thoroughly. I know a lot of people have since developed a phobia for headaches, or possibly even sympathy pains, but don't be alarmed, it is very unlikely that you have developed a tumor inside your head. Mine has been forming for around 2-3 years, and only in the past two to three months have I started to experience headaches of such a severe magnitude that it completely dwarfs migraines. The headaches started off like sinus headaches, and as they gradually grew, so did my tolerance for them, hence the relaxed demeanour prior to finding out my situation.

The worst headache came on Wednesday, 14th December 2011. I was at my work desk, when my hands became like claws and my arms as useless as whale on land, I lost complete feeling in my hands, and my vision completely blurred with the addition of small black jellyfish swimming around in my peripheral vision. Then things got weird, or weirder, everything went completely quiet, whilst I was in a very busy workplace. All I could hear was some fluid noise in the inner cavities of my brain stretch, except I didn't know this at the time, not to mention my ability, or lack thereof, to walk down stairs as I began to lose distance perception. I phoned my mom and Alice in complete panic, thinking it was a panic attack... We were all wrong.

I quickly sped off to my ENT, where he quickly informed me that my sinus canals were clear and that this was "not normal". I spoke to my parents and hastily arranged for an appointment with Dr. Stephan Joubert, a very well known, well liked and respected neurosurgeon. I reported to his rooms the following morning, went through some standard procedure checks and was sent for an MRI. This machine is truly incredible, and truly terrifying. I lay in there, smugly, as I discarded the idea of a brain tumor, or any such anomaly. I was then informed that they need to perform some more tests... Panic, it settles over your body like a blanket of needles. Your blood begins to pump faster, and your adrenalin begins to be secreted from your adrenal gland in order to aid you in whatever obstacle lies before you. Run, that was my first thought, quickly followed by "stay and fight". Those 15-20 minutes that I lay under the MRI were the most defining minutes of my life. It was in these moments that I decided that whatever they found in my head, I would beat it.

After the MRI I was ushered back to Dr Joubert's rooms, where I sensed a different tone. His room was a lot emptier than it was 1 hour ago. I knew something was happening. Behind the scenes my father was frantically making phone calls between London and Durban, arranging flights for himself and my mother. At this time my sister, Nicole and husband, Brent, were expecting the birth of Bella, their newborn baby girl, as if something's were stressful enough. ps: sorry for whisking the parents away.

Dr Joubert then informed me that they had found a mass or a tumor, and that I would undergo surgery that afternoon. This was my head on table moment, where I planted my head on his desk and conjured up the attitude I would need for this fight. I told him I would do everything in my power to beat this thing, and that we would do it as a team. I was ready, at that moment he could've told me anything and my attitude would have stayed the same. Of course those moments are scary, but they are also the moments you need to face in life to find your true grit. I had my nan in the room, and she held my hand as we were talked through the process. Nan, thank you for being so strong.

I was ready for the operation but not for the incredible wave of support I experienced prior to the op. I received calls, messages and every conceivable form of sympathy. I will never forget the incredible love I have been shown, and it is a stark reminder of peoples capacity to love above all else.

The tumor that I have was lodged in my 3rd ventricle, it was creating an immense pressure build up in my 1&2 ventricles that resulted in them swelling to 4 times the normal amount, and me becoming terrifyingly close to an aneurysm, it works on a volume to pressure matrix. It appears I was a big sneeze away from the big snooze.

I have refused myself the luxury and torment of trying to determine when this tumor formed and why it came to be, it is so insignificant to me because this is my individual fight, statistics have no influence or bearing on my attitude. This is my tumor and regardless of what it is, I will get rid of it. I know we all get caught up in our busy lifestyles, but we must not forget the key element of communication. Its this communication that helps people understand "what's really going on in there"... And if there is anything I can achieve with this blog, I just hope to create awareness and a sense that people aren't alone in their fears, but rather that it's their fears alone that will consume them.

Two sides to every coin.

Cancer is a funny thing, it has an incredible power to destroy people and whole families, much like the death of a person. The sad part is that people treat it like a death while the person is still living. I have experienced this feeling. The fleeting moment when someone looks into your eyes for one second as a normal person, only to change their tone once they find out your diagnosis. People with cancer don't want to be treated differently, and those of us strong enough still want to be handled and treated the same as any other person. It is in those moments that life is real, that you don't have to worry about your impending operation or when your radiation starts, because that is living life.

That is the feeling I never want to lose, and I still maintain that feeling as my family and friends have never treated me differently. So, even though cancer is this disease that kills, it also has a tremendous capability to heal. Not just heal the individual with cancer, but also rifts that exist within your own personal environment. People get so carried away with the small stuff, that they forget the bigger picture. I guess cancer has helped me see my environment wholly, and unbiased. People have their own fights, and we go through some form of battle everyday. Some are more significant than others, but the moral of that story is that we are all fighters and battlers, ultimately preparing ourselves for the moment that will define us and our purpose.

I lay in bed last night talking to my girlfriend, Alice, and I told her something I have never told anyone before. I always had a feeling I was going to get cancer, but I also always knew I was going to beat it.  I don't know why, but I always had the feeling in the back of my mind (oddly enough that is where my tumor sits) that I would have cancer. But along with that thought, I also knew that whatever it is, I will beat it. That isnt to say that lesser people die from cancer, that is untrue. Incredibly strong and charismatic people die from cancer all the time, and it is unfair.

When you are more aware of cancer you pick up on things. Little sayings in movies, articles in magazines and general discussion. Cancer is everywhere, any it seems that everyone is now fighting (as I mentioned earlier) either to beat cancer, or to never have to endure the disease. When you become more open to the idea and world of cancer, you pick up on the people who have had it and their incredible stories of remission, and other less fortunate stories of people losing their fight with cancer. The Lederle Family are in my thoughts over this tough time. Your father/husband sounds like an incredible strength, and whatever the outcome, if you can absorb even a fraction of that strength, you will all endure this tough time.

Back to my opening statement that cancer "destroys", it also has an incredible ability to heal. Once the chemo, radiation and operations are over. You will recognize that cancer may leave healed wounds, some fluffy hair and some emotional scars. But it will also pull people together under the most extra-ordinary circumstances. I choose not to let cancer destroy my life, but rather to let it show me how to live.

We are all stronger than we imagine.

The First Post

Hi everyone,

So this is my first post and hopefully there are many more to come. I have started this blog as a means of communicating my next few months and my battle through cancer with everyone following this blog.

This is how I stand at the moment. I am a 24 year old male, from Durban, South Africa. Here's the clanger, I have been diagnosed with brain cancer. Now let's gather ourselves and breathe, that's exactly what I did when I first heard the news. I have some form of cancer, not yet determined, in the 3rd ventricle in my brain. That's the ventricle that sits below ventricles 1&2 and is pretty much in the middle of my head.

Whether you are reading this blog from South Africa, or from afar, please understand that the medical staff in south Africa have been amazing. My neurosurgeon, Dr Stephan Joubert, and close friend to the family, Dr Stuart Kidgell, have been invaluable in plotting my path to healing setting me up on my path that I am on the threshold of beginning. Dr Joubert and Dr Kidgell have been a guiding hand in my decision to head overseas for treatment at the Stanford Neuro-Oncology Instiute. I have felt so immensely comfortable with these two doctors at my side, and I have put them into my own personal team that will help me combat this disease. The Decision to head overseas was furthered spearheaded by my family, Ally (my girlfriend) and I. We have decided to head off to Stanford University in California. We have been put into communication with Dr Griffith Harsh IV. I have all the faith in the world that my team, along with the the Stanford Medical team that we will be able to overcome this disease.

I have always lived my life, to the fullest and I don't regret a second of it. But when you hear the words "you have cancer", everything else becomes inane and irrespective. I will fight this cancer with everything I have, and I know I will be able to do this because I have the best team available, along with the very best support team. I just want to dedicate this first post to my personal team, Dad (Derek Woodhouse), and mom(Lisa Woodhouse), you are the best parents anyone could ask for, and I know you will be by my side every step of the way. Your baby boy will come home. Nix, Carm, Brenty, Ali and baby Bella, I love you guys more than anything, I will miss you guys so much but I will be home soon. And last but by no means least, Ally, I love you more than ever. I will be over there fighting and I know you wish you were there with me. I am coming back to be with you and I will never give up. I love you all so so much.

Now let's fight this thing!!!