The scariest moment
is when you realize, that even you, may die a lot sooner than you planned unless you step up to fight. Even considering your fight, sometimes the battle is too far gone and this dreadful disease claims another life. As these people succumb to this disease, does the incredible weight of the task present itself yet again.
I have come to accept an absolutely ludicrous amount of strange information over the past year. The most astounding and world altering of that information was without a doubt, “Brad, you have a brain tumour, it is cancerous and it is malignant”. Not exactly the words you want to hear a week after your 24th birthday and two weeks before your December Holiday. Needless to say that changed things, not just for me, but for everyone. I still stand firm in my belief that I got this cancer and tumor for a reason, I was given it to prove something, to create a change in mindset and to live a positive life. More astounding still is that as much as I am scared of this cancer, I still believe it is the best thing to ever happen to me.
I was supposed to fly to London a week later to witness the birth of my niece and Godchild, Isabella Grace Taylor, but if I had boarded that plane and made my way to London, 3 different teams of doctors explained to me that I would have had an aneurysm and died on the flight, and I would not be here writing this new piece of my life. So I have begun to ask myself, what can I do now that I have been afforded this situation?
Over the past year, I have been on an incredibly emotional ride, with highs and lows, pains and broken barriers and through the doors of some of the finest medical institutions on offer, along the way I was told I was fortunate, unfortunate, lucky, rare, and the most meaningful thing I have been called is a fighter. We are all born with this inherent ability to recognize when we are in peril, we summon every ounce of fight within us and in one final display of courage and bravery we stave off this tumultuous beast, so that after the dust has settled, the wounds healed, and abrupt memories of the fight have faded, we walk out the other side with stronger relationships, being a stronger person with a better perspective in life and an understanding on the beautiful differences between us all and how important those differences are.
To remind people of my medical history that prepared me for the biggest fight of my life, here is a list of medical barriers I have endured:
Asthma
Tick bite fever 3 times
Hernia
4 sinus operations
Tonsils removed
Appendectomy
Varicous seal (blocked vein)
Cerebral Malaria
2 broken arms
1 broken collar bone
Pneumonia twice
Bronchitis more times than I care to count
Pleuracy
and the big boy, brain cancer, a pineal cytoma lodged into the 3rd ventricle in the middle of my brain,and that resulted in 3 operations, a biopsy and way too many catheters and MRI’s.
That was all in my past, since my last MRI my girlfriend and I headed North to Europe where we visited Amsterdam, Berlin, Munich, Naples, Capri, Positano, Sorrento, Rome, Siena, Florence, Venice, Athens, Mykonos, Ios, Santorini, Crete and Barcelona. A lot of the time we werent exactly sure where we were, or how we were going to get to the next place. As travelers will know, you have to account for changes in plans and accept pretty fast that sometimes things dont go according to plan. We have had an incredible trip filled with laughter, the occasional fight, and more than anything a willingness to see the things that I wished I could. This trip was not some form of bucket list, but rather a trip to gather perspective on life, and realize that there is a lot more going on out there and if we dont strive to change the way we see the world, the world will never change or we will get left behind. So after touring Europe for 3 months living out of a bag, we are now in London, regrouping for something I have feared about the second we put paper to pen. The one year scan approaches, and it haunts my dreams of late.
I had been pushing this scan to the back of my mind while we were traveling, but as the months rolled by, time gathered momentum to form somewhat of a juggernaut, pushing me and the scan into a collision course at 11:30am, 24th October, 2012. Now my mind obsesses over the appointment and scan, because in one sentence, it holds the power to change my, as well as my loved ones, entire outlook on life once again.
The scan is approaching, and in order to try get a psychological edge over everything, I have been seeing a resident neuro psychologist at the Harley Street Clinic. I have seen her on a number of occasions and we have been working together to ensure that I am ready for any outcome of the scan. But only to be truly ready do you have to truly accept what could ultimately be your fate. I have never accepted death, even though in America I looked into its eyes before my 9 hour operation, and the whole time up until now I realize that cancer is a disease that kills people but I didnt every fully address it until last Friday in the rooms of my neuro-psychologist. She could see I was in disarray, I was experiencing intense headaches, not sleeping, depressed, stressed, tired and lacking confidence. She sat me down and said “Brad, we have to go over best and worst case scenario”. We go over best case scenario and that is the tumor and cancer is inactive, the proliferation rate is low, and you can carry on life as per normal. She then addresses worst case scenario. Instantly my pulse quickens, my hands begin to sweat and become clammy, and a weird sensation occurs. For the first time in over a year, tears start to build up in my eyes, the bubble in my throat expands until it is almost choking me, encouraging me to release the fear and panic. The tears begin to roll out of the corners of my eyes, and in that instant I realize why I am crying. My scariest moment is realizing that I too may die, and that I am crying because I love my life, the people in it, the stuff I have seen, and I, in the past year, have been able to see what life is about. It is about people, all kinds of different people who in some way or another are fighting their own fight. My scenario may be more life and death, but I encourage everyone to take a look and address what they are doing and whether they are doing it for the right reasons with the right people. Because in one sentence your life can change, so make sure it is the life you want to live with the people you want to live it with.
When I slide into that MRI machine on Wednesday morning, my mind hopefully will be under control, my pulse steady and my focus clear. I have been looking after myself mentally and physically, conserving this latest reserve of fight for Wednesday, when the MRI machine begins to work with the contrast that will be flowing in my veins, and lighting up the radiologists screen with an image not of negativity but rather hope and positivity. I hope they see a message of hope, fight and courage on that screen, from a man who never wished this disease on anyone, but has embraced the disease and is determined to make a message of positivity and inspiration. The contrast will begin to heat up as the MRI (magnetic resonance indicator) begins to magnetically pull the charged particles into a position where they are fully able to see every millimeter of my brain and the matter within it.
At the moment my sleeping pattern is non-existant, I wake up in the middle of the night not wanting to die, my day dreams are obscured by flash panics about death and I realise I do not want to die, I do not want this thing to have beaten me. I slowly calm myself down, i gather control once again and go over everything I do know about my cancer. In the end I resort back to the same statement I made the day I was told I had a “blockage” in my brain, whatever it is, however long it has been there, and whatever threat it poses, I will fight this thing once again, with every manageable ounce of energy and commitment.
Sunday, 21 October 2012
Monday, 30 April 2012
Moving On.
These last few months have been the most torrid, whirlwind months of my life. I cannot accurately explain my experience, nor can I attempt to thank all of you enough. Since the 15th December, 2011, my family, loved ones and I have been barreling along in a turbulent filled environment. That was the day I was diagnosed with a Germinoma, and since then my diagnosis has changed to that of Pineal Cytoma, a rare malignant cancer that manifests within the inner cavities of your brain. We have come to terms with the most frightening of circumstances, and accepted the scariest of odds, and coming out the other end is a thought, and a luxury I never afforded myself.
It is scary to look back, and having now accepted everything, I walk away from all of this relatively unscathed. Yes, I have scars, 4 of them. They will be there for the rest of my life, and I will wear them with pride, because they are memories of a time when life was harder, the realities were more real and I truly was fighting for my life, and some how and some way I walked away, ALIVE. I still wake up some nights, and in order to calibrate whether this has all been real, I search for the 10cm scar etched into the back of my skull. It is still there, and therefore the memories are real, I breathe a little bit easier knowing that it has passed.
We have all been fighting for these four months, and oddly enough they have been invaluable. I have seen human compassion at its best. I have seen what the medical world has to offer. I have been to the forefront of medical technology, and I have seen that the only thing holding us back is ourselves. I know that I am incredibly fortunate to have been able to go to these incredible institutions, and I pledge that I will search for the rest of my life to make it more accessible to more people, but that is a story for another time.
So, for four months I have come to terms with everything, I have acknowledged that life is truly the most incredible gift. When I was lying in ICU in Hospital (Stanford and Umhlanga) all I wanted to do, besides being with my family and girlfriend, was to run. It didn't matter where, or when, all I wanted to do was know that I can decide my own path, and I could run for the rest of my days, and someday, somehow I would get there. It was then that I decided to focus all of my energy, both mental and physical on attaining this elusive life after cancer. Cancer is a disease that can be beaten and is being beaten. It is a sad truth that we only hear about the deaths of cancer, and rarely about the incredible fights people have in which they come out on top.
Last Wednesday, 25th April, I met up once again with Professor Brada. I had been so apprehensive about meeting up with him for fear that his words would come down like a sledgehammer on my pieced together world. I had concentrated so hard at trying to reassemble my world since the world-altering explosion of 15/12/2011, that I feared it would happen again. This professor had the power to completely blow my world apart once again. Since we set up the appointment in February, I had been obsessing over this date. My girlfriend could see my residing further and further into my armor, moving back in order to protect myself and those around me from anything sudden. I saw so many people back home, and went over the story so many times that even when I tried, I could not remove reality from my thought. People were concerned and I appreciate that immensely, but when you are trying to straighten your mind post-brain surgery, it is hard to constantly go over the intricate details of my experience in America and London.
So 25th of April approached, it came barreling down the chamber quicker than I could have thought. 3 months passed by in the blink of an eye. I found myself back in London, and contrary to what all the Londoners say, it is NOT SPRING, it is still freezing. I Arrived on the 24th, and had very little time here to prepare so I tried to do so back in South Africa through the use of a neuro-pyschologist. Unfortunately this failed, I will double my efforts this side in an attempt to gauge whether I am sane. The evening of the 24th was spent very casually with my family, I needed reassurance and my nerves were shot. I knew I was going back into that tunnel where they would focus all of their excessive medical and technical knowledge in trying to determine whether this cancer has grown and whether it poses a credible threat to my life. I woke up on the morning of the 25th and it is cold and rainy, hopefully not an ominous sign. My MRI is scheduled for 1:00 pm, and it arrives quicker than expected.
We arrive at Harley Street Clinic, and the warm environment and plush carpets are welcome compared to the cold air and hard streets outside. We are met at exactly 1:00 pm, as organized. A lady shepherds me down into the basement where they have thick walls, which can only mean one thing. Radiation. I am asked to remove all clothing, metal and accessories. I comply, and in no time I am face-to-face with that tunnel again. this machine will determine how the next few weeks/months and years of my life are spent. Bring it. I hop into the machine, slide the headphones on which are there not only for comfort but also so that I wont go deaf from the disturbing noise the machine manifests. They slide me in, and the same steely resolve slides over me again, I am in this tunnel for the sole reason of determining where I am and what more needs to be done in relation to that position. To my elation I find that the music is Coldplay, I am able to breathe a little easier. 20 minutes later they pull me out, inject some contrast into my veins which makes my brain light up like a Christmas tree. All of 10 minutes later, and I am out. This is the hardest period, it is where you find yourself questioning why they took so long in one of the MRI sequences, why did they pause in some places and move along in others. These are questions I will never get answers to, so might as well never fret over them.
My appointment with Prof Brada is at 3pm, and the 2 hours pass slower than a Manchester United game. I go over every possibility in my mind, and accept all eventualities. 3pm arrives and we are escorted into Brada's office, he greets us warmly and yet again I steal a glimpse at his computer screen. Wow, I have a big head, and if I can read correctly, there is a lot of neural activity going on in there. He can sense my apprehension, and contrary to all other doctors, he says my scans were fine and I can relax. I felt my body sliding though my shoes. You could've told me the world was ending in a couple of hours, but at that time I was so euphoric, that I would've found the positive amongst the negative.
We once more told me that I am going to be fine, the tumor isnt growing, it isnt seeding, it isnt spreading. It is an incredibly low malignancy. He told me I can eat and drink whatever I wish, and I can carry on my life as per normal, well not as it was because as most of you know it was fairly extreme. But I will live it the best of my ability, with the full intention of living it as it was meant to be.
So now I find myself back into the swing of life, I am fine, I have overcome so incredible odds, and I have a remarkable story. So where do I go from here? I know one direction, and that is forward, I enjoy life all the more, and I move, as I have always done. I move forward knowing that as a person, I can overcome anything that is thrown at me. So now, I Move On and I do not let this cancer stop me from moving ever again.
It is scary to look back, and having now accepted everything, I walk away from all of this relatively unscathed. Yes, I have scars, 4 of them. They will be there for the rest of my life, and I will wear them with pride, because they are memories of a time when life was harder, the realities were more real and I truly was fighting for my life, and some how and some way I walked away, ALIVE. I still wake up some nights, and in order to calibrate whether this has all been real, I search for the 10cm scar etched into the back of my skull. It is still there, and therefore the memories are real, I breathe a little bit easier knowing that it has passed.
We have all been fighting for these four months, and oddly enough they have been invaluable. I have seen human compassion at its best. I have seen what the medical world has to offer. I have been to the forefront of medical technology, and I have seen that the only thing holding us back is ourselves. I know that I am incredibly fortunate to have been able to go to these incredible institutions, and I pledge that I will search for the rest of my life to make it more accessible to more people, but that is a story for another time.
So, for four months I have come to terms with everything, I have acknowledged that life is truly the most incredible gift. When I was lying in ICU in Hospital (Stanford and Umhlanga) all I wanted to do, besides being with my family and girlfriend, was to run. It didn't matter where, or when, all I wanted to do was know that I can decide my own path, and I could run for the rest of my days, and someday, somehow I would get there. It was then that I decided to focus all of my energy, both mental and physical on attaining this elusive life after cancer. Cancer is a disease that can be beaten and is being beaten. It is a sad truth that we only hear about the deaths of cancer, and rarely about the incredible fights people have in which they come out on top.
Last Wednesday, 25th April, I met up once again with Professor Brada. I had been so apprehensive about meeting up with him for fear that his words would come down like a sledgehammer on my pieced together world. I had concentrated so hard at trying to reassemble my world since the world-altering explosion of 15/12/2011, that I feared it would happen again. This professor had the power to completely blow my world apart once again. Since we set up the appointment in February, I had been obsessing over this date. My girlfriend could see my residing further and further into my armor, moving back in order to protect myself and those around me from anything sudden. I saw so many people back home, and went over the story so many times that even when I tried, I could not remove reality from my thought. People were concerned and I appreciate that immensely, but when you are trying to straighten your mind post-brain surgery, it is hard to constantly go over the intricate details of my experience in America and London.
So 25th of April approached, it came barreling down the chamber quicker than I could have thought. 3 months passed by in the blink of an eye. I found myself back in London, and contrary to what all the Londoners say, it is NOT SPRING, it is still freezing. I Arrived on the 24th, and had very little time here to prepare so I tried to do so back in South Africa through the use of a neuro-pyschologist. Unfortunately this failed, I will double my efforts this side in an attempt to gauge whether I am sane. The evening of the 24th was spent very casually with my family, I needed reassurance and my nerves were shot. I knew I was going back into that tunnel where they would focus all of their excessive medical and technical knowledge in trying to determine whether this cancer has grown and whether it poses a credible threat to my life. I woke up on the morning of the 25th and it is cold and rainy, hopefully not an ominous sign. My MRI is scheduled for 1:00 pm, and it arrives quicker than expected.
We arrive at Harley Street Clinic, and the warm environment and plush carpets are welcome compared to the cold air and hard streets outside. We are met at exactly 1:00 pm, as organized. A lady shepherds me down into the basement where they have thick walls, which can only mean one thing. Radiation. I am asked to remove all clothing, metal and accessories. I comply, and in no time I am face-to-face with that tunnel again. this machine will determine how the next few weeks/months and years of my life are spent. Bring it. I hop into the machine, slide the headphones on which are there not only for comfort but also so that I wont go deaf from the disturbing noise the machine manifests. They slide me in, and the same steely resolve slides over me again, I am in this tunnel for the sole reason of determining where I am and what more needs to be done in relation to that position. To my elation I find that the music is Coldplay, I am able to breathe a little easier. 20 minutes later they pull me out, inject some contrast into my veins which makes my brain light up like a Christmas tree. All of 10 minutes later, and I am out. This is the hardest period, it is where you find yourself questioning why they took so long in one of the MRI sequences, why did they pause in some places and move along in others. These are questions I will never get answers to, so might as well never fret over them.
My appointment with Prof Brada is at 3pm, and the 2 hours pass slower than a Manchester United game. I go over every possibility in my mind, and accept all eventualities. 3pm arrives and we are escorted into Brada's office, he greets us warmly and yet again I steal a glimpse at his computer screen. Wow, I have a big head, and if I can read correctly, there is a lot of neural activity going on in there. He can sense my apprehension, and contrary to all other doctors, he says my scans were fine and I can relax. I felt my body sliding though my shoes. You could've told me the world was ending in a couple of hours, but at that time I was so euphoric, that I would've found the positive amongst the negative.
We once more told me that I am going to be fine, the tumor isnt growing, it isnt seeding, it isnt spreading. It is an incredibly low malignancy. He told me I can eat and drink whatever I wish, and I can carry on my life as per normal, well not as it was because as most of you know it was fairly extreme. But I will live it the best of my ability, with the full intention of living it as it was meant to be.
So now I find myself back into the swing of life, I am fine, I have overcome so incredible odds, and I have a remarkable story. So where do I go from here? I know one direction, and that is forward, I enjoy life all the more, and I move, as I have always done. I move forward knowing that as a person, I can overcome anything that is thrown at me. So now, I Move On and I do not let this cancer stop me from moving ever again.
Tuesday, 24 April 2012
Rest over, time to regroup.
How do we gauge mental strength? Is it something we are born with, and during times of hardship it surfaces as a coping mechanism or is it something that can be molded and nurtured. I have been trying to work out how mentally strong I am, and I have to believe in the latter, that mental strength is something developed. I say this because if I was confronted with this situation a year ago, I would have told you that I wouldnt have had the strength to deal with it. Slowly over time, and understanding my situation am I able to realize that no matter the obstacle before me, or the road ahead, I will prevail. For 3 months I have toiled with coming to grips with tomorrow, and it has been a fight I have not fought alone.
Coming out of the this battle in February was incredible, I have forged friendships with people I had not met before, and solidified friendships I already had. People showed me such incredible support and keep urging me on, willing me to keep fighting. I realized soon after coming back that I was not strong enough mentally to fight alone, even considering what I had been through prior to that. So I saw neuro-psychologists and they helped, but the real lessons came from those I know. I realized that while the neuro-psychologists give me methods to deal with everything, in the moments of panic and fear, I am going to phone my family or girlfriend, and not my psychologist.
Doing the things that scare you sometimes help you realize the importance of life, we develop a fear in our psyches that somehow nestles into everything we do and until we find comfort in our physical and mental abilities, we live under its spell.
3 months ago, I set up an appointment with Professor Brada, my radiation oncologist. The appointment is to check up on my status, as well as monitoring the cancer in my head. Those 3 months are up, and tomorrow I meet up once again with Prof Brada (apt name considering my name is Brad). I have enjoyed 3 months of uninhibited relaxation, which is exactly what the doctor ordered, now we once again, we pick up from where we left off, shake off the insecurities and fears I have and regroup with a positive mindset.
Flying halfway around the world may seem a bit extreme for a checkup, but my family and loved ones have realized that no distance is too far when it is concerned with not just your health but your very life. My trip back to London has been a harrowing one, firstly I had to say goodbye to my incredible girlfriend in Cape Town, she has put up with so much, and has never asked for anything in return, I will never forget it. And then I had to part ways with my mother and sister in Durban, it is scary to accept that sometimes in life even when you are surrounded by the most incredible and loving family possible, you need to do some things yourself and believe that those closest to you will be there for you should the need arise. Secondly, my flight out of Durban was aborted mid-takeoff due to an aft door opening just before the nose lifted. Great way to start my trip.
Tomorrow, I go back in to that tunnel. I willingly lie in the MRI tunnel and accept that whatever they find, good or bad, that I am ready. I will keep fighting as I have. I have had the time over the last 3 months to reflect on my life, and the people I want in it, as well as what I want to do with it. So many opportunities arise when you accept there is so much possibility in this world, and I can no longer sit on the side line and watch programs about people seeing those special places, I need to do it myself, so one day I can account for a life well spent.
Of course fear arises, I wouldnt be human if I didnt accept the fear, and realise that I harbour this fear because I have such an incredible life filled with so many incredible people that I am scared to lose it. My family have kept me sane over the last 3 months, last night was a key instance. I had a minor panic attack prior to flying to London, and through being on the phone with my mom, dad, and girlfriend, and fortunately being being at the airport with my sister, brother-in-law and niece, I was able to calm down, collect my thoughts and remember why I am here.
I am here, in London, to hear the news that I am on the road to recovery, and not the opposite. It is a road I will ride with the support of all of you, my family, loved ones and friends. I will check in after the scan and let you know how it all goes.
I am once again feeling that support that urged me through America, and every little bit helps, so thank you.
Coming out of the this battle in February was incredible, I have forged friendships with people I had not met before, and solidified friendships I already had. People showed me such incredible support and keep urging me on, willing me to keep fighting. I realized soon after coming back that I was not strong enough mentally to fight alone, even considering what I had been through prior to that. So I saw neuro-psychologists and they helped, but the real lessons came from those I know. I realized that while the neuro-psychologists give me methods to deal with everything, in the moments of panic and fear, I am going to phone my family or girlfriend, and not my psychologist.
Doing the things that scare you sometimes help you realize the importance of life, we develop a fear in our psyches that somehow nestles into everything we do and until we find comfort in our physical and mental abilities, we live under its spell.
3 months ago, I set up an appointment with Professor Brada, my radiation oncologist. The appointment is to check up on my status, as well as monitoring the cancer in my head. Those 3 months are up, and tomorrow I meet up once again with Prof Brada (apt name considering my name is Brad). I have enjoyed 3 months of uninhibited relaxation, which is exactly what the doctor ordered, now we once again, we pick up from where we left off, shake off the insecurities and fears I have and regroup with a positive mindset.
Flying halfway around the world may seem a bit extreme for a checkup, but my family and loved ones have realized that no distance is too far when it is concerned with not just your health but your very life. My trip back to London has been a harrowing one, firstly I had to say goodbye to my incredible girlfriend in Cape Town, she has put up with so much, and has never asked for anything in return, I will never forget it. And then I had to part ways with my mother and sister in Durban, it is scary to accept that sometimes in life even when you are surrounded by the most incredible and loving family possible, you need to do some things yourself and believe that those closest to you will be there for you should the need arise. Secondly, my flight out of Durban was aborted mid-takeoff due to an aft door opening just before the nose lifted. Great way to start my trip.
Tomorrow, I go back in to that tunnel. I willingly lie in the MRI tunnel and accept that whatever they find, good or bad, that I am ready. I will keep fighting as I have. I have had the time over the last 3 months to reflect on my life, and the people I want in it, as well as what I want to do with it. So many opportunities arise when you accept there is so much possibility in this world, and I can no longer sit on the side line and watch programs about people seeing those special places, I need to do it myself, so one day I can account for a life well spent.
Of course fear arises, I wouldnt be human if I didnt accept the fear, and realise that I harbour this fear because I have such an incredible life filled with so many incredible people that I am scared to lose it. My family have kept me sane over the last 3 months, last night was a key instance. I had a minor panic attack prior to flying to London, and through being on the phone with my mom, dad, and girlfriend, and fortunately being being at the airport with my sister, brother-in-law and niece, I was able to calm down, collect my thoughts and remember why I am here.
I am here, in London, to hear the news that I am on the road to recovery, and not the opposite. It is a road I will ride with the support of all of you, my family, loved ones and friends. I will check in after the scan and let you know how it all goes.
I am once again feeling that support that urged me through America, and every little bit helps, so thank you.
Monday, 2 April 2012
Life, or something like it.
We give emotion a lot of control in our lives, but none more so than the emotion of fear. It is the controlling emotion that shepherds us between life and living. The reality is that we all know that this fear resides in all of us, some of us are restrained by its power, grounded by its ability to make loss a realization. Others acknowledge this existence of this fear dwelling deep within our subconscious, but as they may respect it, they do not condone it to rule their life. Fear is the feeling that quickly washes over you, completely blinding your ability to think and comprehend what is going on. It is purely there to evoke a change in your subconscious, and to make you life on the “safe” side. We all have something we fear, in fact there are many things we fear, we just have to acknowledge its existence and move on from there. I feared cancer my whole life, it is only when you know you have this this little bugger residing in you do you focus, and that oddly enough is when the fear subsides and you are able to take control of what you can.
I haven't written my blog for a while, because this latest excerpt has captured my attention and required me to face my own fears and what I have learnt is that it shows how we all gauge fear, and to what limits we let it control our , at times, out of control lives. I have missed writing in my blog, but this topic has captured my attention and required for me to truly ply my thoughts as well as thoughts of those around me. We all perceive fear differently, and our fears are inherently different. But it all comes back to the truth that fear is what we make it. I realized that whilst I have this cancer and know full well that I wont let it beat me, there are a lot of scared friends, family and loved ones who are living this journey with me, who are feeling a very similar fear to me, but theirs is worse because they are not the masters of their own destiny, they cannot fight this fight for me, but can hold my hand and be there for me in the good times and the bad. That is exactly what you have all done, you have removed prejudices and misconceptions in a move to try make my life better, and I am still searching for the words to say “Thank You”.
The compounding factor about fear is that fear also has a malignancy, far worse than any cancerous growth. It resides within us, slowly gaining momentum, until this fear begins to control our lives , and becomes a juggernaut, and it can steer us into some dark places. Fear is worse than cancer though, because fear is something that can only be beaten with the mind, cancer also requires the strength of your mind, but there is some incredible modern medicine and doctors that can cure you. Fear is different, fear is down to you. We all hear that cancer is spurred on by certain proven things, and that it rescinds in the presence of other things. 3 things I know full well that do not help cancer are: Stress, Fear and Negativity, all 3 of which can be controlled by ourselves, so it begs the question of how do we let our lives get so out of control that it causes cancer. I am still searching for the answer, in the mean time I am trying to full my life with enough of the opposites. Fear, stress, and negativity is what I refer to as the tripod, and I am trying to rid these three emotions from my life. They are three emotions that can lower you into the lowest pits of existence, they reside within all of us, but will only surface should we let them.
I am in the process of regrouping my life, collecting the small fragments that were blown apart by this squall, which shattered my life, and the foreseeable future. I often remind myself that we only give away that which we are not willing to hold on tight enough to. Life is exactly the same. I have an iron grip on this fight, I have it around the neck and I am slowly removing all life from this cancer.
We all have small problems, its when all of those problems either compound into a major problem, or we are faced with a problem that completely blindsides us, that we go into free-fall, not able to think or feel. Once that initial hit is over, and our lives are blown wide open we begin to ask ourselves, How do we pick up life in a similar vein to how it was lead before?
There is no sure answer, and I know this because I have searched for it. The best thing we can do in order to combat the effects, of what feels like post-traumatic stress, is to talk and convey our emotions. I have been searching for my solution to fear, fear of the unknown and fear of what I could leave behind. We all worry about menial things in life, but as soon as our life and livelihood is threatened do we take a step back and recognize the bigger picture. Its odd because once we make it past that major ordeal, and our moment or epiphany has passed, we can either move back into the exact same ritual or habit as before or we go the route less traveled, and become people completely different, looking at life differently and following a different path. We become a source of inspiration, or are able to inspire people because odds are that there are other people going through the exact same thing as you, and may be to scared to step forth. Since my cancer became public knowledge I have heard of 6 people who have been diagnosed with brain tumors and other forms of cancer, to those people, keep fighting, because I will. I draw inspiration from you, and we can find comfort that, unfortunately, we will never be alone in this fight with cancer.
The doctors warned me that after so many operations and psychological tests, I would inevitably hit a juncture where I could either capitulate and surrender, or recognize the damage caused and regroup. It is incredibly hard for one to put their life together after one little medical test shatters your hopes and dreams for the short-term future. I know people have found solace in this blog, and my journey has relations to not just medical obstacles, but obstacles that we all face, every day. Some event may occur in your life that changes your perspective on life, and requires for you to form a completely different approach to the life you used to live.
The truth is that we all have problems, whether they are big or small in stature, it does not mean that they are any different, merely the cause is different. We can dwell on the bad, or we can move against the incoming tide. We will always be faced with fear, and emotions that require us to either fight or flight. It isn’t in my nature to run, if anything I will run head on in to the challenge, and I know I will overcome it because behind me I have the backing and support of my friends and family, and I have a strong mind.
I used to live in fear of what might happen, now if I have any fear, it is of what may not happen if I don’t live my life. If I don’t live now, I may never get a second chance, don’t let that be your case.
I haven't written my blog for a while, because this latest excerpt has captured my attention and required me to face my own fears and what I have learnt is that it shows how we all gauge fear, and to what limits we let it control our , at times, out of control lives. I have missed writing in my blog, but this topic has captured my attention and required for me to truly ply my thoughts as well as thoughts of those around me. We all perceive fear differently, and our fears are inherently different. But it all comes back to the truth that fear is what we make it. I realized that whilst I have this cancer and know full well that I wont let it beat me, there are a lot of scared friends, family and loved ones who are living this journey with me, who are feeling a very similar fear to me, but theirs is worse because they are not the masters of their own destiny, they cannot fight this fight for me, but can hold my hand and be there for me in the good times and the bad. That is exactly what you have all done, you have removed prejudices and misconceptions in a move to try make my life better, and I am still searching for the words to say “Thank You”.
The compounding factor about fear is that fear also has a malignancy, far worse than any cancerous growth. It resides within us, slowly gaining momentum, until this fear begins to control our lives , and becomes a juggernaut, and it can steer us into some dark places. Fear is worse than cancer though, because fear is something that can only be beaten with the mind, cancer also requires the strength of your mind, but there is some incredible modern medicine and doctors that can cure you. Fear is different, fear is down to you. We all hear that cancer is spurred on by certain proven things, and that it rescinds in the presence of other things. 3 things I know full well that do not help cancer are: Stress, Fear and Negativity, all 3 of which can be controlled by ourselves, so it begs the question of how do we let our lives get so out of control that it causes cancer. I am still searching for the answer, in the mean time I am trying to full my life with enough of the opposites. Fear, stress, and negativity is what I refer to as the tripod, and I am trying to rid these three emotions from my life. They are three emotions that can lower you into the lowest pits of existence, they reside within all of us, but will only surface should we let them.
I am in the process of regrouping my life, collecting the small fragments that were blown apart by this squall, which shattered my life, and the foreseeable future. I often remind myself that we only give away that which we are not willing to hold on tight enough to. Life is exactly the same. I have an iron grip on this fight, I have it around the neck and I am slowly removing all life from this cancer.
We all have small problems, its when all of those problems either compound into a major problem, or we are faced with a problem that completely blindsides us, that we go into free-fall, not able to think or feel. Once that initial hit is over, and our lives are blown wide open we begin to ask ourselves, How do we pick up life in a similar vein to how it was lead before?
There is no sure answer, and I know this because I have searched for it. The best thing we can do in order to combat the effects, of what feels like post-traumatic stress, is to talk and convey our emotions. I have been searching for my solution to fear, fear of the unknown and fear of what I could leave behind. We all worry about menial things in life, but as soon as our life and livelihood is threatened do we take a step back and recognize the bigger picture. Its odd because once we make it past that major ordeal, and our moment or epiphany has passed, we can either move back into the exact same ritual or habit as before or we go the route less traveled, and become people completely different, looking at life differently and following a different path. We become a source of inspiration, or are able to inspire people because odds are that there are other people going through the exact same thing as you, and may be to scared to step forth. Since my cancer became public knowledge I have heard of 6 people who have been diagnosed with brain tumors and other forms of cancer, to those people, keep fighting, because I will. I draw inspiration from you, and we can find comfort that, unfortunately, we will never be alone in this fight with cancer.
The doctors warned me that after so many operations and psychological tests, I would inevitably hit a juncture where I could either capitulate and surrender, or recognize the damage caused and regroup. It is incredibly hard for one to put their life together after one little medical test shatters your hopes and dreams for the short-term future. I know people have found solace in this blog, and my journey has relations to not just medical obstacles, but obstacles that we all face, every day. Some event may occur in your life that changes your perspective on life, and requires for you to form a completely different approach to the life you used to live.
The truth is that we all have problems, whether they are big or small in stature, it does not mean that they are any different, merely the cause is different. We can dwell on the bad, or we can move against the incoming tide. We will always be faced with fear, and emotions that require us to either fight or flight. It isn’t in my nature to run, if anything I will run head on in to the challenge, and I know I will overcome it because behind me I have the backing and support of my friends and family, and I have a strong mind.
I used to live in fear of what might happen, now if I have any fear, it is of what may not happen if I don’t live my life. If I don’t live now, I may never get a second chance, don’t let that be your case.
Friday, 16 March 2012
Something worth fighting for...
Why do we fight when we are faced with adversity, is it some sort of obscure predisposition or human nature? And what hidden drive is the reason for never giving up and maintaining that fight regardless of the obstacle, when we know that the odds are stacked up against us, but we carry on and see out everyday and wake up to see the sun in the morning.
Those are the questions I had to find answers to very quickly, I realized that in life, we are faced with these situations because they make you a stronger person, and in some ways, a better person. I had to formulate these answers very quickly, so forgive me if they are lacking in depth. At the time of my diagnosis my life was in turmoil, and those closest to me will understand the dark place I was in, and the reasons for me being there. In hindsight I realize that I was there because of the tumor, it affected my mood, my outlook on life and my attitude towards my friends.
My friends have been so incredible throughout these last few months, whether it be people BBMing me at obscure times in the night as they didnt quite understand the time zones, or Skyping with a few of my friends at once, you realize that the medicine helps, and the scars and lesions will heal as the sutures begin to work in repairing the wounds. The deepest and most damaging wounds are the ones we suffer inside. Two Fridays ago I had some friends over , and as I sat there with my friends surrounding me, the first of my answers popped in my head (hopefully it wasnt the tumor, haha). I realized my fight was so strong because I had something worth fighting for. My family and friends were the core reason, the anchor of a ship in a squall. Those unique people, each in their own way pulled me to shore, and with every word of encouragement I have received, I have utilized in getting myself, and my parents back home.
People have told me that I have been strong throughout, and I fought so well and so hard. I have tried to explain that if it were them, would they do it any other way, or would they surrender. My mindset going in to this whole fight was unique, not once did I surrender to the idea of death. I have also tried to explain that we all find some resolve or some form of courage deep within that we thought we never had. If you had asked me whether I would be able to outlast this storm, I would tell you I would have capitulated and forfeit my life in the process. I realized the reason for my fight was in a large part due to my desire to live, because of the people I live it with. You get a completely new perspective on life, you see everything a little clearer and everyday seems like an opportunity.
All the petty squabbles I have had in the past count for nothing, I appreciate every person more than ever, but at the same time I realize I am quicker to weed out the people who are wasting life in a superficial way to make themselves feel better. I am not saying I am judgmental, I am merely saying that I dont have time for the people who talk behind each others back, as well as flaunting the material things. That isn’t your last thought when youre lying on a metal table. To be honest my thoughts of that moment are still a little hazy, but I know it wasnt me wishing I had bought the Apple computer I saw at the shops the day before. Those are not your last thoughts, and they never should be. All I wanted was to wake up, and see my family, girlfriend and friends.
My second answer to why I fought so hard is to help people, I have a disease that is incredibly rare as far as brain tumors go, and instead of crying about it, and researching all the negative aspects of my situation, I realized I should rather turn this negative into a positive. I have chosen to rather help people in a similar situation to me instead of avoiding them. With that mindset I have met incredible people. The scariest thing is that ever since my tumor emerged, I have heard of 5 other people being diagnosed with brain tumors. That is a scary truth that none can ignore.
About two weeks ago I encountered a very strange sensation. I had just been given this clean bill of health yet I was stuck in a vortex, and I couldnt understand why I was experiencing these feelings and emotions. What I am referring to is a form of depression, I couldnt understand why I was in this situation, I was back in South Africa, happy, and with my family and friends. What I failed to recognize was the incredible battle that has been fought, and I can only liken it to Shell Shock or past-traumatic stress. A void was forming, and all my emotion was being sucked in to this hole in a last ditch attempt to rid me of my personality. This was the last sting in the tail of this monstrous foe. I couldnt fight this alone as there are some deep seated, subconscious forces at work. So I have enlisted the help of a neuro-psychologist. I have my first appointment this afternoon, so hopefully she doesnt open Pandoras box.
The biggest question I have for this psychologist is whether I am the same person, am I the Brad that left for the UK and America, or am I different? I think in a way I have changed, I have seen and feared some very real situations. I was the one who endured the surgery, but other than that the whole waiting game was endured by my family and friends, every second ticked a little bit slower, and I dont know if I was happy or sad about that, I say that because I urgently wanted to know the results but at the same time I wanted to save every second of life. Am I the same Brad, I will never know.
I have picked up some sentimental things along the road, a Stanford tracksuit and Snoopy from my mom, a new head from my dad as well as the device that I write to you on now, but you learn that the most important gift you can get is the support you receive, and the best gift you can give to them, under circumstances like this, is to come home.
lastly, I just want to say “Thank you”, its an honour, to know or have received forms of support from all of you. I have encountered people from all walks of life who have read this blog and drawn some inspiration from it. I am no different to any other person, perhaps I have an extraordinary drive to live, and my key was never to think like a sick person, I got in those wheelchairs out of necessity, but throughout my portage I was fighting to get out, and that mentality stayed with me throughout and will continue to be with me every step of the way, as i know my family, girlfriend and friends will be.
Those are the questions I had to find answers to very quickly, I realized that in life, we are faced with these situations because they make you a stronger person, and in some ways, a better person. I had to formulate these answers very quickly, so forgive me if they are lacking in depth. At the time of my diagnosis my life was in turmoil, and those closest to me will understand the dark place I was in, and the reasons for me being there. In hindsight I realize that I was there because of the tumor, it affected my mood, my outlook on life and my attitude towards my friends.
My friends have been so incredible throughout these last few months, whether it be people BBMing me at obscure times in the night as they didnt quite understand the time zones, or Skyping with a few of my friends at once, you realize that the medicine helps, and the scars and lesions will heal as the sutures begin to work in repairing the wounds. The deepest and most damaging wounds are the ones we suffer inside. Two Fridays ago I had some friends over , and as I sat there with my friends surrounding me, the first of my answers popped in my head (hopefully it wasnt the tumor, haha). I realized my fight was so strong because I had something worth fighting for. My family and friends were the core reason, the anchor of a ship in a squall. Those unique people, each in their own way pulled me to shore, and with every word of encouragement I have received, I have utilized in getting myself, and my parents back home.
People have told me that I have been strong throughout, and I fought so well and so hard. I have tried to explain that if it were them, would they do it any other way, or would they surrender. My mindset going in to this whole fight was unique, not once did I surrender to the idea of death. I have also tried to explain that we all find some resolve or some form of courage deep within that we thought we never had. If you had asked me whether I would be able to outlast this storm, I would tell you I would have capitulated and forfeit my life in the process. I realized the reason for my fight was in a large part due to my desire to live, because of the people I live it with. You get a completely new perspective on life, you see everything a little clearer and everyday seems like an opportunity.
All the petty squabbles I have had in the past count for nothing, I appreciate every person more than ever, but at the same time I realize I am quicker to weed out the people who are wasting life in a superficial way to make themselves feel better. I am not saying I am judgmental, I am merely saying that I dont have time for the people who talk behind each others back, as well as flaunting the material things. That isn’t your last thought when youre lying on a metal table. To be honest my thoughts of that moment are still a little hazy, but I know it wasnt me wishing I had bought the Apple computer I saw at the shops the day before. Those are not your last thoughts, and they never should be. All I wanted was to wake up, and see my family, girlfriend and friends.
My second answer to why I fought so hard is to help people, I have a disease that is incredibly rare as far as brain tumors go, and instead of crying about it, and researching all the negative aspects of my situation, I realized I should rather turn this negative into a positive. I have chosen to rather help people in a similar situation to me instead of avoiding them. With that mindset I have met incredible people. The scariest thing is that ever since my tumor emerged, I have heard of 5 other people being diagnosed with brain tumors. That is a scary truth that none can ignore.
About two weeks ago I encountered a very strange sensation. I had just been given this clean bill of health yet I was stuck in a vortex, and I couldnt understand why I was experiencing these feelings and emotions. What I am referring to is a form of depression, I couldnt understand why I was in this situation, I was back in South Africa, happy, and with my family and friends. What I failed to recognize was the incredible battle that has been fought, and I can only liken it to Shell Shock or past-traumatic stress. A void was forming, and all my emotion was being sucked in to this hole in a last ditch attempt to rid me of my personality. This was the last sting in the tail of this monstrous foe. I couldnt fight this alone as there are some deep seated, subconscious forces at work. So I have enlisted the help of a neuro-psychologist. I have my first appointment this afternoon, so hopefully she doesnt open Pandoras box.
The biggest question I have for this psychologist is whether I am the same person, am I the Brad that left for the UK and America, or am I different? I think in a way I have changed, I have seen and feared some very real situations. I was the one who endured the surgery, but other than that the whole waiting game was endured by my family and friends, every second ticked a little bit slower, and I dont know if I was happy or sad about that, I say that because I urgently wanted to know the results but at the same time I wanted to save every second of life. Am I the same Brad, I will never know.
I have picked up some sentimental things along the road, a Stanford tracksuit and Snoopy from my mom, a new head from my dad as well as the device that I write to you on now, but you learn that the most important gift you can get is the support you receive, and the best gift you can give to them, under circumstances like this, is to come home.
lastly, I just want to say “Thank you”, its an honour, to know or have received forms of support from all of you. I have encountered people from all walks of life who have read this blog and drawn some inspiration from it. I am no different to any other person, perhaps I have an extraordinary drive to live, and my key was never to think like a sick person, I got in those wheelchairs out of necessity, but throughout my portage I was fighting to get out, and that mentality stayed with me throughout and will continue to be with me every step of the way, as i know my family, girlfriend and friends will be.
Wednesday, 29 February 2012
Procrastination and the ticking time bomb
Since the outset of this blog, I always promised myself that I would write the truth, I would let everyone reading this blog feel my very real emotion, they would walk this journey with me, and they would feel my fight. I have not and will not hold back my emotions in order to make this a less turbulent read. Those emotions that I feel are the real, raw, unhindered emotions that I face every single second of every single day, and it would be a gross injustice to lie to you, but even more to to lie to myself.
The most beautiful yet at the same time hindering lesson I have learnt so far is that to procrastinate is to put off the inevitable, and when we are all fighting a battle against our primordial clock, it seems pretty illogical. When you accept that there are certain things you can and cannot control, you get a greater perspective on life.
I have learnt to accept some pretty massive life lessons in a very short amount of time. We all meander along in life, some more driven to obtain something, a desire planted in the back odour mind. Even if we are not sure of what it is, how we hope to achieve it, or the means of obtaining it, it may be an objective, we may not be sure what that objective is, but some day we hope to have a moment of where the toils and struggles amount to something. It is then that our lives hope to make sense, where everything and everyone we have met in life serves to meet this objective, and we then know our purpose.
As I lay, with my bottom on the freezing theatre table, surrounded by equipment that far exceeds my mental capacity, I asked myself, "Brad, if you don't wake up from this, what can you account for in your life... ". That's a pretty big question for a 24 year old to answer. What I am referring to is not material, it is not something that can be obtained through material wealth, I have now learnt that that is very insignificant. I am referring to those moments we look for in life that we will remember for the rest of our lives, the moments where we witness majesty, or something majestic. Have you seen everything you want to see, in order to account for a life well spent. As my friend Stuart Kidgell puts it, "the medical sword is hanging over all our heads", I just have to acknowledge my enemy sooner than hoped.
We all get stuck in moments of limbo, the moments when we wander between a place we may be comfortable with, to a place we hope to be going. Of course it is easy to get settled into a routine, see the same scene every day and go through the same motions, but we witness the great things in life when routine is broken, and all too often people are afraid of breaking routine. We like routine. All of that gets completely blitzed when you have to do the same thing when you are knowingly sleeping on an active time bomb.
I do not mean that in a negative way, because I maintain my positivity throughout, this tumour is still in my head, and I am still determined to fight, and win. I have my next batch of scans and tests in April, and I can live inside a padded room for the next month and a half, or I can see the people that mean the most to me, do the things I cherish above all others, and hopefully laugh continuously for the next 2 months. We are all guilty of forgetting about how valuable life is, we procrastinate and in so doing we lose out on the things we should be doing.
I am also guilty of procrastination over the last week or so,I have been so involved with this whole thing, that I forgot to take stock of the battle that has been fought, and the people who have fought it with me. My family, girlfriend and friends have been through this entire battle with me. They have pulled me out of the darkness, and at times it felt like I was crawling out of a hole dug in the sand. The walls felt as if they were caving in, my own drive and determination to get out of the pit was making the walls crumble faster.
I have not been sleeping well, I spend most of the night trying to find any subject that will drive my mind far away from the current reality. In the end, I find solace in my own thoughts, and at least I still have the mental power to think.
I have been up and down, and that is the road you ride when you fight this foe, you learn to accept that time is a precious commodity, and the price we pay for it is so so high, because if you sit on your laurels trying to fight time, you miss out on life. I go to sleep every night knowing that I will ply all of my mental strength into pushing this thing out of my mind, both physically and mentally. Perhaps it is just wishful thinking, and positive interpretation, but those 3 operations, and countless hours spent with doctors, nurses and specialists could have gone down another route entirely.
It's only looking back do I realise how close everything came, when I read the reports on my surgery do I shudder, as I imagine those doctors huddled over a 24 year olds motionless body, but not dead, inside that body there is all the fight left in the world. If you lose your will to fight, the battle is already lost. After surgery I, at times, have felt different. I, in essence, am the same Brad, yet I interpret thing differently. I procrastinate less, and live more. We are so afraid to lose out in case another option opens up, a more favourable option. I go to bed tonight knowing that if I had procrastinated with that first MRI, I wouldn't be here today. I am now living everyday, and I am so incredibly grateful for every second.
The most beautiful yet at the same time hindering lesson I have learnt so far is that to procrastinate is to put off the inevitable, and when we are all fighting a battle against our primordial clock, it seems pretty illogical. When you accept that there are certain things you can and cannot control, you get a greater perspective on life.
I have learnt to accept some pretty massive life lessons in a very short amount of time. We all meander along in life, some more driven to obtain something, a desire planted in the back odour mind. Even if we are not sure of what it is, how we hope to achieve it, or the means of obtaining it, it may be an objective, we may not be sure what that objective is, but some day we hope to have a moment of where the toils and struggles amount to something. It is then that our lives hope to make sense, where everything and everyone we have met in life serves to meet this objective, and we then know our purpose.
As I lay, with my bottom on the freezing theatre table, surrounded by equipment that far exceeds my mental capacity, I asked myself, "Brad, if you don't wake up from this, what can you account for in your life... ". That's a pretty big question for a 24 year old to answer. What I am referring to is not material, it is not something that can be obtained through material wealth, I have now learnt that that is very insignificant. I am referring to those moments we look for in life that we will remember for the rest of our lives, the moments where we witness majesty, or something majestic. Have you seen everything you want to see, in order to account for a life well spent. As my friend Stuart Kidgell puts it, "the medical sword is hanging over all our heads", I just have to acknowledge my enemy sooner than hoped.
We all get stuck in moments of limbo, the moments when we wander between a place we may be comfortable with, to a place we hope to be going. Of course it is easy to get settled into a routine, see the same scene every day and go through the same motions, but we witness the great things in life when routine is broken, and all too often people are afraid of breaking routine. We like routine. All of that gets completely blitzed when you have to do the same thing when you are knowingly sleeping on an active time bomb.
I do not mean that in a negative way, because I maintain my positivity throughout, this tumour is still in my head, and I am still determined to fight, and win. I have my next batch of scans and tests in April, and I can live inside a padded room for the next month and a half, or I can see the people that mean the most to me, do the things I cherish above all others, and hopefully laugh continuously for the next 2 months. We are all guilty of forgetting about how valuable life is, we procrastinate and in so doing we lose out on the things we should be doing.
I am also guilty of procrastination over the last week or so,I have been so involved with this whole thing, that I forgot to take stock of the battle that has been fought, and the people who have fought it with me. My family, girlfriend and friends have been through this entire battle with me. They have pulled me out of the darkness, and at times it felt like I was crawling out of a hole dug in the sand. The walls felt as if they were caving in, my own drive and determination to get out of the pit was making the walls crumble faster.
I have not been sleeping well, I spend most of the night trying to find any subject that will drive my mind far away from the current reality. In the end, I find solace in my own thoughts, and at least I still have the mental power to think.
I have been up and down, and that is the road you ride when you fight this foe, you learn to accept that time is a precious commodity, and the price we pay for it is so so high, because if you sit on your laurels trying to fight time, you miss out on life. I go to sleep every night knowing that I will ply all of my mental strength into pushing this thing out of my mind, both physically and mentally. Perhaps it is just wishful thinking, and positive interpretation, but those 3 operations, and countless hours spent with doctors, nurses and specialists could have gone down another route entirely.
It's only looking back do I realise how close everything came, when I read the reports on my surgery do I shudder, as I imagine those doctors huddled over a 24 year olds motionless body, but not dead, inside that body there is all the fight left in the world. If you lose your will to fight, the battle is already lost. After surgery I, at times, have felt different. I, in essence, am the same Brad, yet I interpret thing differently. I procrastinate less, and live more. We are so afraid to lose out in case another option opens up, a more favourable option. I go to bed tonight knowing that if I had procrastinated with that first MRI, I wouldn't be here today. I am now living everyday, and I am so incredibly grateful for every second.
Monday, 20 February 2012
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)