Gravity

The first major rule that we all learn about gravity, is that what goes up, must come down. With that in mind, I am now not exactly sure how to write this blog, for the first time in a while I feel apprehension in starting because of fear that I may jinx the incredible news I received this last week, I may be brought back down to earth and I may have to face some pretty big questions. I have written this particular blog in my head so many times, So much so that it now seems lacking in depth and not paying the necessary respect for the people following this blog. I know I have kept a very low profile this last week, and that lies mostly in part to this whole week feeling surreal.

When you get good news, you get propelled out of this atmosphere into a place of euphoria, that up until a week ago, I had completely forgotten about. When you are fighting against something so consuming as a tumor in your brain, you tend to forget about the simple things in life that afford you great pleasures. Euphoria is something that cannot be bought, it cannot be felt, it is an intangible object that makes the possessor the richest person on earth, because to them euphoria is a happiness that cannot be matched. It is the moment when any material wealth is humbled by pure emotion. The euphoria I am speaking of has been my fuel for the last week.

Firstly, I have been in a limbo for the last two months, as we all know I have had this tumor in my head that has driven myself, and my loved ones all over the world in search of treatment. And we found that treatment in Stanford, California, and in London. We have been through an incredible amount of up and down moments, and that is the gravity I speak of. When I refer to "We", I consider that to include myself, my parents, my family, my loved ones,  my friends and anyone who has found some form of happiness in reading my story. What I have witnessed over the last two months has shown me peoples capacity to care and to love. I have said this so many times before, but every time I feel alone, I refer back to the incredible support I have received and the stories people have shared with me, and it reminds me every time that I have never been alone. I have walked this road with thousands of people behind me, and it shows me that in times of adversity and hardship, we will never walk alone.

I have stumbled in the dark, as we all do, in search of answers. I have been up and down, and thrown left and right. And for every time I was down I would tell myself that I had to get back up, not because I couldnt get up, but purely because in my mind I would not stay down, that gravitational pull would not rule my life and I would not let gravity have its way with me. Of course when you are fighting the natural order of things, such as the body producing rogue cells that then go cancerous, those little cells fight back and hit your body as hard as they can in a bid to calm the battle and win a war that was never theirs. But in any war, there can only be one outcome for the man who sets out to fight until the war is over, his body is spent and his will to get home surpasses that of his foe, his desire to win outweighs that of the opponent, and his mental strength secures victory before the battle is fought. 

I have viewed these last two months as a war, with small battles fought along the way that accumulated in to a war that has spanned 3 continents, 3 brain surgeries, 3 scars, and 2 really really bad haircuts.

Besides the physical scars that I will carry for the rest of my life, I will carry the emotional support I have been shown. My opinions of people has completely transformed, I have been shown their true grit and emotional depth, and for that I am grateful I have undergone this experience. I have felt peoples stories, and they have rocked the very core of my understanding of people, and what they have gone through. My story is one of millions, and so long as I help other people in a similar situation feel like they are not alone then I consider every second spent on this blog to be well spent.

Last week I met with Professor Brada, you can Google him, and his credentials, if I wrote them, would require for me to be up much later than planned. My father and I were to meet with Professore Brada on 14th of February, my  mother opted to stay at home as it was my sisters Birthday. My father and I arrived at the LOC (London Oncology Clinic) at 17:30 on Tuesday afternoon. The LOC (Harley Street Clinic) is not like any hospital I have been to. It was more like a hotel than a hospital, as it had a grand reception area, and comfy deep couches. You are only reminded that it is a hospital when they take you off to a side room for tests.

We were scheduled to meet with professor Brada at 17:45, so in the 15 minute gap we waited patiently in the waiting room. It is a funny thing where the mind wanders off to in times of boredom or imptaience, and the thoughts you come up with when you are waiting in these rooms. My mind began to race again, and I start to hatch ideas that at the time seem very plausible and realistic but in hindsight are complete madness. I began to wonder about the probability of the tumor growing back in the short time between the US and UK, and other thoughts similar to this. Those are the little demons I spoke of last week.

17:45 comes, and as in the US, they work like clockwork. We arrive at Dr. Bradas consultation rooms, and instantly my pulse quickens and my heart-rate flutters. The jitters yet again begin to cloud my steady concentration thought. One knock and we are summonsed. Professor Brada is a very kind looking man, with a European accent that I have not quite tied down yet, but his voice is very calming and he already knows us by name, " Derek, Bradley, please, take a seat". We sit down in comfy arm chairs opposite his desk, and I steal a glance at a window that was reflecting his computer screens. He has pulled my MRI's onto his computer and I can see my brain again, for the second time I start to feel very light headed. I tell myself I knew this was coming and I brace myself for his recommendations about my course of either radiation or chemo-therapy. Prior to this meeting we were informed that I would probably undergo a 36 week course of chemo or a 7-8 week course of radiation. I brace myself for the oncoming news as one would brace for blunt force trauma. I am mentally ready for anything they can throw at me.... or so I thought I was.

The next 20 minutes were the most euphoric moments of my life.

He started the conversation by saying, "2 things... 1, you are not going to die of a brain tumor. 2, you are going to live a completely normal life, and the longevity of your life will not in any way be affected by the brain tumor..."

Hold on, I was there to see Professor Brada, a radiation oncologist, about my radiation course. Now this man is telling me that this tumor in my head is no longer going to rule my life.

What had happened in the next few minutes was a barrage of medical terminologies, reference to my MRI on his computer screen, some questions about my headaches, and how long they have spanned for, some more questions about how I first learned about my tumor, and some information he had extracted from the reports from Professor Harsh.

He could not have been more complimentary of Professor Harsh, and what an incredible job he had down in extracting 70% of the tumor. He paid respect to the man, as he could see that the tumor had developed fronds or barbs that had latched onto the wall of my 3rd ventricle, and that if he had tried to extract the remainder of the tumor, as most people would have attempted, that the repercussions would have been severe, to mention a few things I could have woken up with double vision or blindness, paralysis on my whole left hand side as I experienced in surgery, and doing severe damage to my brain itself. So I am very grateful that they maintained composure and pulled out when they did.

Professor Brada then went on to explain that the proliferation rated of my tumor are so low, that once we left Stanford, the pathology teams then analyzed, and reanalyzed my tumor samples over and over again. The results were that it was a very low Grade 2 Pineal Cytoma, and that it is such a low Grade 2 that it can be considered a Grade 1, the Grading system is relatively new and there is much differing opinions about what constitutes Grade 1, 2, 3, and 4. Dr. Brada then look my dad and I in the eye, and told us that the damage caused by radiation would be greater than the damage caused by the tumor itself and that the tumor has been in my head for a very very long time, longer than the 2-3 years as previously thought.

He then continued to tell us that I would head back to London in March/April for more scans and tests, but until then I can leave and continue my life as I normally would. He told me I was free to go and enjoy life.

My opinion of gravity has changed since that very moment, gravity is the force that will ground you should you let it, it is the magnet for negativity and defeat. I walked out of Dr. Brada's rooms with a blank expression, I did not know exactly what the man was telling me, and my father could not believe it either. We both floated out of his rooms, through the hospital reception area and into a taxi. We had not fully grasped what we had been told, and it took several days, and it is still taking some comprehension. We both sat in the taxi, with neither of us speaking until 10 minutes into the ride I asked him what this meant. I still dont think he had the words to explain to me exactly what Prof Brada was saying, and I don't blame him. He kind of muttered "Its over, Boy, and I am so so proud of you". We both just hugged each other as we realized what had been said and what my family and I have been through. The words were like a sword shattering my shackles to the ground, they released me from the torment of gravity and allowed me to reset my focus and attention to the things that really matter in life. I instantly get on the phone to my family and tell them the incredible news, no one can really comprehend or believe it. We are all still in a state of shock. My focus pre-cancer to what it is now is completely different, the things  I held in esteem then are now of little concern to me. The gravity that held me down during this whole fight was a mental battle that can only be won when you are prepared to lose everything in the process of gaining a second chance at life


Prior to the meeting on late Tuesday afternoon, I was ready for the radiation, I was ready for the 7 weeks of hospitals, tests, scans and more MRI's. It shows how one hour of life after 2 months of fighting can change your life.

I have realized you set your own limits, you determine your gravity, and rather than letting things keep you down, you identify the things that will propel you to heights you had never imagined before.


How do you thank someone for saving your life... you show them how to live.