Happy Third Cancerversary!

It's three years to the day that I was diagnosed with Ewing's Sarcoma! Hooray for being alive and to (at least) another three years! It's been an interesting journey to say the least and while there have been many low points there have also been many high points along the way.

Being ill has changed me as a person and it made me grow up a lot and realise I wouldn't get anywhere in life unless I worked hard and went out and did it for myself. I've also realised how vital family and friends are and I doubt I would be where I am today without them, so a massive thank you to any of you that still bother to read this!

While I have lost a number of friends, none of them are forgotten and there are so many people that I'm glad I've met, who I would never have known if I hadn't been ill. It's been a real eye opener to how hard doctors, nurses (and all those who work in the health service) work. I have many people to thank for the care they have given me, and while I still have three more years before I'm given the official all clear I know I'm in capable hands.

I've done a ton of stuff in the past three years, as having cancer has really inspired me to take every opportunity in life! (A bit like the Jim Carrey film 'Yes Man' but sadly lacking Zoey Deschanel). It's also led to me realising that I need to actually put effort into things, which has paid off, resulting in me getting straight As in my A-levels. Instead of going to university this year I've decided to take a year out and go travelling in January, starting with Australia for three months!  Until then I'm attempting to start my own business, as a business consultant for small local businesses in my area (warning- shameless plug ahead!) so if anyone runs a small local business and is in need of business advice on what to do next or how to expand their business please contact me via my website! http://www.nurtureconsulting.co.uk

My main aim has been to not let having cancer hold me back in life, so I think I've done alright with that so far, in the past three years I've-

- Gone back to sixth form after a year out and got straight As
- Met some of the best people who are now great friends
- Helped raise over £40000 for charity
- Done a speech at the Royal Albert Hall
- Had an interview at Oxford University
- Flown a helicopter on my own
- Visited Athens and Rome
- Driven two supercars at over 150mph (on a track....) (Onwards to 200mph now though!)
- Been to Leeds Festival twice, and Glastonbury (I will cry like a child if I don't get a ticket for next year though!)
- Had an interview and worked for a few weeks at a top professional services firm in London
- Made it three years since my initial diagnosis
- And last but not least set up my own business!

Here's to three more years!

Scan Results

Today I returned to Leeds General Infirmary to receive the results of my CT scan that I had last week. It's somewhat nerve-racking getting scan results. The reason they scan my lungs first is that they will show up any new tumour growth because they're soft tissue so any tumours will grow their first, rather than in the bone. If any tumours start growing again then I'll have to have chemotherapy again and depending upon where the tumours are, an amputation. However, all of these treatments would only be to attempt to hold the cancer off as if it returns following all the treatment I've already had it will most likely return again and again. This is way these bi-monthly scans are so important.

Scan from September 2010 before chemotherapy and the one on the right, showing the current situation.

Luck was on my side today though and my scan was clear. A small amount of scarring showed up in the top left of my left lung, as a result of all the chemotherapy I've had but apart from that it was fine. I can't even tell you how relieved I am about this and how amazing it is! It means I can relax somewhat until my next scan in June. All I have to say is HOORAY!

This weekend I'll be taking part in a road rally around Yorkshire in support of Teenage Cancer Trust. The rally will include me driving around Yorkshire dressed up as batman (and the car done up as the batmobile) completing various challenges, some of which will be fairly embarrassing for me! I know I'm not allowed to take the batman outfit off for the whole weekend! As I've said all the money goes towards Teenage Cancer Trust. This charity helped me so much through my treatment, providing support for me and making the ward in Leeds my second home. Even being back there today has made me almost miss it! Almost anyway!

I'd absolutely love it if some of you could sponsor me! It really is a fantastic cause and you'll be helping so many people. Having cancer as a young person is always something that happens to someone else, a friend of a friend. That is until it happens to you or your friend, your child or your grandchild, your brother or your sister. Then you realise how horrible a disease it is. Teenage Cancer Trust does its best to help young people with cancer and they require your help to carry on helping. Please sponsor.

http://www.justgiving.com/Nick-Massey1

Week of Worry

Today was the last day of probably two of the most interesting two weeks of my life. I've spent about a week in London, met many amazing people, spoke on stage at the Royal Albert Hall, started raising money for my next charity event (£500 sponsored so far! More on this in a few days) and generally had an amazing time. If the rest of my life carried on like this I'd have one amazing life!

CT Scanner

Today I also went to Leeds for a CT scan of my lungs. The CT scan is my regular two month scan to check the tumours in my lungs to see if they've started growing again or not. The reason my lungs are scanned, rather than my main tumour on my pelvis is because if any new tumours start growing anywhere they'll most likely start growing in my lungs first. This is because cancer cells travel in the blood and because a lot of blood go through your lungs and it's a soft tissue then it is likely they will show their first.

The scan will show up if I have new tumours or not. If I do then I'll start chemotherapy again, but the chances are it wouldn't work as well again. The next week is going to be what I like to call one of my 'weeks of worry'. I'll receive the results at about 11:00am next Monday. Until then worrying about what might be on the scans will be on my mind constantly. From the moment I wake up until the second I go to sleep. It puts things into perspective somewhat. It certainly encourages me to make the most of this week!

I'll be sure to update you all when I get the scan results next Monday.

Last One for March

Today is sadly the last day or March and therefore the last blog entry I'll be making.

For March at least! I will continue to blog but not every single day. I'd like to say a massive thank you to everyone who has been reading and sharing and I'm truly grateful to all of you. The amount of messages I've had from people who I've never really spoken to has been amazing and I'm love hearing from you. In many ways it has been inspirational to me to have everyone's support.

I'm not well at the moment and I won't officially be cancer free for five years. I will continue having scans every few months to ensure that my tumours haven't started growing again. They tumours are still there but fingers crossed they're dead!

I've learnt a lot from having cancer as a young person. I've learnt the names of drugs and about types of cancers which I don't think anyone should have to find out about until their about 90! It is often seen as an old persons' disease but it can affect every single one of us. It's always something that a elderly relative has, or some distant acquaintance. That is, until you get it yourself. I sincerely hope that I have encouraged at least one person to go the doctors to get something checked out. It'll have made it worth it all worth it. A few weeks or days can make the difference between life or death.

I've also learnt about what is important in life (to me anyway) and I believe (or hope) that it has made me a better person. I value things differently and I doubt an exam will ever stress me out again! It has definitely make me appreciate my family and friends more. It has made me more outgoing as a person and I'm less likely to judge someone before speaking to them. After being stuck on a ward with a bunch of strangers for a few days I suppose you have to get used to talking to people you haven't met before! The people I have met along the way have been some of the most amazing and awe-inspiring people I could ever have the good fortune to meet, and I hope I'll carry on being friends with them.

My experience has also encouraged me to start fundraising, with my current figure raised/helped to raise being around £30000. I have had so many amazing opportunities given to me. On Monday the 2nd of April 2012, I will be going on stage at the Royal Albert Hall to speak about Teenage Cancer Trust. I will be on my own in front of roughly 5000 people. Before having cancer I would've been too nervous to do it. Now, it doesn't even phase me!

I've only got one chance at life. One opportunity to live it to the full. To cram in as much as possible. To sing, dance, shout, talk, learn, laugh, love and live. I've learnt to seize every opportunity.

Many people find cancer scary and at first it is. But you learn to deal with it, to live with it. I've lost many friends along the way and not a day goes by where I don't think about them. I think about the lives they won't get to live and it pushes me to live mine to the full. Cancer isn't something to be scared of and it's that affects everyone.

There are four things cancer can't do-

It can't stop the love I have for my friends and family

It can't stop me laughing

It can't get rid of my spirit

and it can never stop me smiling.

An unorthodox 18th

My 18th Birthday was on the 9th of December 2011, and I had a party with all my friends and went out for a meal. It was a fantastic birthday by all accounts because I ended it drunk as a skunk!

It wasn't until the next day that I found out that one of my friends, Ali, had passed away the day before. Ali Turner was 19 when he died. He had been diagnosed with a brain tumour in 2010 and after months of chemotherapy, radiotherapy and brain surgery, he was told that his tumour had gone and that he was in remission. It returned in early 2011 and he started chemotherapy and radiotherapy again. He was told that the chemotherapy had stopped working and there was nothing they could do for him in August 2011.

Ali was always an inspiration to me and someone to look up to. His type of cancer was also very rare and it made me realise that even when things looked bleak you could still fight on and make the best of things. Ali's parents and his sister were on the ward a lot and were the loveliest people you could imagine. I couldn't and still can't understand why bad things happen to the nicest people. Life truly is unfair sometimes. 

Ali's funeral was held on Thursday the 15th of December. Afterwards we went back to the golf club he played at it made me realise how many people just one person can affect. It was heart-wrenching to hear his friends speak about him, but also amazing because it made me realise what a great person he had been.   I think about him every single day without fail and I'll never forget him. 

Ali, his parents and his sister

RIP Ali Turner.

I had my scans in late January, following all my exams and they didn't show any new growth, luckily. This was the last proper scan that I had and so far I don't have any unusual pains or coughs, so hopefully nothing has started growing again. I have scans every few months to look for any sign of new cancer growth. I will have this for the next 5 years, at which point I will be a survivor. At the moment, I'm still classed as having cancer and although I sincerely hope it doesn't start growing there remains a risk that it may. I worry about what would happen if it does because it would most likely mean I would only have a while left. This thought is with me every day, every hour and every minute. Whenever I have scans coming up I worry so much about what could potentially happen.

I guess the only answer is to live each day as if it's your last. Take every opportunity given to me and try not to worry. We are all dying and it is the inevitable end to each and every single one of us. Don't waste a day because you'll never get it back. 

Live your life, it's the only one you get.

Scans Scans Scans....

Thank you to everyone who's been reading and still is. I'm extremely grateful to everyone for every share, retweet or any passing my blog on to friends. In two days time I will have done a blog post for every day of March and I hope everyone has found it interesting so far and I hope it encourages you to do something for charity.

In September 2011 I started back at Sixth Form as best I could, but I suppose it would be fair to say I wasn't really happy. I was seeing a psychologist as I still spent a lot of time wondering about things. Mainly worrying about dying and asking myself why all this had happened to me. I also really detested how I looked, as I'd been told my hair would grow back properly but it hadn't and still hasn't. I suppose this was to do with the fact that all through my treatment I'd associated my hair growing back with going back to normal, but it hasn't grown back properly and I'm very conscious of it. I can't stand it and wish it would just grow back. It gets me down a lot if I'm honest.

I had my scans in September 2011. They showed that my tumours had stayed the same and hadn't grown. The doctor told me that because my tumours were still there, he couldn't say I was in remission but he hoped that they were dead. I was overjoyed to hear this as you can imagine! It was a bit of an anticlimax really, no big party and the news that I'd be having another load of scans in two months time to see if they'd started growing again yet. This is the closest to remission I'll ever get and is the place I currently am at the moment.

It's cold when you don't have much hair!
December 2011.

Life continued as normal (or as close to normal it will ever get for me) until November 2011. My next lot of scans. These showed what they suspected may be a new growth in my lungs. The doctor told me that they would have to wait two more months before they scanned again to see if it was a new tumour. If it was a new growth than I would be having palliative care to try and buy me time. I was to spend my 18th birthday, Christmas and New Year wondering whether they would be my last. Not really a nice thought but they consumed my every waking thought for the next two months. Every night it would be the last thing I would think of and it was constantly at the back of my mind (Quite ironic really considering I had a tumour on the back of my skull!) I also sat all my AS level January exams with this hanging over me, which didn't really make them any easier. It's things like this that encourage me to live every second of life.

I waited nervously upon the scan results which would determine which path my life would go down.

Radiotherapy!

Good evening all! Today I will be delving into the mysteries of radiotherapy and what implications it would have for me.

Our daily routine consisted of getting up at about 9, getting ready and leaving for about 10:30. We'd then get to Leeds at roughly 12:15, we'd buy our sandwiches from the shop and go down to the radiotherapy department. The treatment itself took roughly 5 minutes, but we had to wait for up to an hour before I could go for my radiotherapy. We would then go back home, taking another hour and 45 minutes. This was my daily routine for six weeks.

Radiotherapy works by targeting high energy radiation at the cancerous cells. It damages there DNA, which kills them, however it also kills non-cancerous cells, meaning that the surrounding area is also damaged. Because of this the skin where my tumour is became very very sore after about the second week of radiotherapy and began to peel off. In many ways it was like really bad suntan and it was extremely painful to touch. Because of where the tumour is the radiotherapy had to pass through my intestines, meaning that after a few weeks of radiotherapy I could potentially begin to get very painful stomach cramps.

One of the radiotherapy machines at St James' Hospital, Leeds.
June 2011

The other major side effect of radiotherapy was tiredness. Not just slight tiredness but extreme tiredness. Some days I would feel so tired I wouldn't want to get out of bed at all, but I would still have to, so I could go to Leeds. This side effect also meant that I got worn out a lot quicker than a healthy person would, and mixed in with the fact I was still feeling the side effects from my high dose chemotherapy led to me being extremely tired at times. Furthermore, because of the fact that radiotherapy effects last a long time, even now I still get tired really easily and some days I am really tired even though it's been a good few months since I finished radiotherapy.

On Friday the 10th of June 2011 I had my first day of radiotherapy treatment. 

My first two weeks of radiotherapy went ahead without event, but by the end of the second week I was beginning to feel fairly tired. This was probably a combination of the 140 mile round trip I was making each day, the chemotherapy's late effect and the effect of the radiotherapy. It also seemed to be going really slowly and I was missing being able to seen my friends, mainly because they were busy with exams. I felt quite alone at this point because I'd lost contact with my friends because they were busy with exams and other stuff. I also didn't see any of my friends from the ward because I was no longer an inpatient so didn't have a reason to go to the ward which was at a different hospital in Leeds.

I was counting down the days as I continued with my radiotherapy but it was seeming to go so slow and I was only two weeks in and the effects so far had been relatively modest. The worst bit was probably knowing that as it continued I'd carry on getting more and more tired each week.

High Dose Chemotherapy- Week 3!

This was to be the hardest part of my treatment, and probably the toughest few weeks of my life. I was to be in pain that I wouldn't wish on anyone and I knew there was no way of avoiding it.

It was the end of my second week and the beginning of the third when the effects of my high dose chemotherapy really started to kick in. My neutrophils had fallen below one, meaning I had no defence against infection and that I was confined to my isolation room. I was to be in this small room for weeks.

It started out as almost nothing, a small tickle at the back of my throat but within a matter of hours I couldn't eat anything without being in unbearable pain and after a few days I couldn't swallow anything at all. Nothing to eat or drink at all and I was constantly feeling sick. I was barely able to get out of bed and spent most of my time watching daytime television and films. One particular film I do remember watching was Yes Man. I'm not sure why but it has become my favourite film, and in many ways it was encouraging to me, and it made me realise that when I got out of this horrible place I'll grasp every opportunity in life. I try to do that as much as I can now, because I've realised you're not here forever. You're here for a good time, not a long time.

Sarah was coming to visit me on the weekend of the 25th, 26th and 27th and I was so determined to not be attached to my drip by the time she came. I tried so so hard but I wasn't able to, and as the pain got to the point where I was literally crying in pain the nurses told me I had to have the morphine pump put up. Sarah came about half an hour after they started it, and I can honestly say I've never been so disappointed with myself.

I promised myself two things before I started the high dose chemotherapy. Firstly that I'd call Sarah everyday and secondly that I'd get up and out of bed for a shower at least once a day.

They both sound quite simple, but when you're too tired to get out of bed and can barely walk they're a lot harder than you'd imagine! I was eventually attached up to TPN, which meant I would be fed and watered through my portacath. I attempted to carry on drinking but I couldn't manage even a small drop by the third week, it felt like it was burning all down from my mouth to my stomach and I was in agonising pain. I was also on the morphine pump to help with my pain. It pumped morphine into my veins, keeping me on constant pain relief, although even the really high doses didn't even blunt the pain.

The skin on my hands and feet also started to come off, as the chemotherapy attacked the skin cells, meaning it was painful for me to walk. This coupled with the fact that I was very very weak meant it became increasingly hard for me to walk or get out of bed. I forced myself to get a shower each morning though, and no matter how hard it was I struggled through. Using the drip stand to prop myself up, I managed to shower myself each morning, while in immense pain. I managed to do this even on the worst days and I learnt one thing-

Now, whenever I'm annoyed at something or I'm finding something hard, I think back to this time. I think back to how hard it was for me just to get out of bed and get a shower and I think if I can do that I can manage anything. It was only a few steps from my bed to my bathroom in hospital. But them few steps seemed like a mountain at the time and I managed them. They were a huge challenge but I did it. I willed myself to do it and I managed it. To quote Churchill (again) "When you're going through hell, keep going."

It was when I was at my worst that my Mum had to leave the room because seeing me so ill upset her so much. I also know that when Sarah came to visit me, my Mum warned her about how ill I looked and my Mum was worried it might upset her. Seeing me so ill did upset her but she encouraged me to get a shower each day. She reminded me why I was doing this and who I was doing it for. Watching her leave was probably one of the hardest goodbyes I've had to make. I was scared I was going to die and when I kissed her goodbye and told her I loved her, part of me wondered if I'd see her again. I sat and cried after she'd left. I felt so alone.

Sarah and I.
March 2011

Beth had gone home for the final time too, and little did I know I was never to see her again. My Mum also found out that one of her friends had died of breast cancer. I really couldn't imagine a worser week. 

I was barely able to walk, I was being fed through a tube, I'd picked up an infection causing me to spike a temperature of 39.2 celsius and I was on constant pain relief. However, for some reason unknown to anyone my bloods had started to go back up. At first the doctors were amazed and refused to believe it stating it was nigh impossible for them to be going up so soon, but after two consecutive days of them increasing they had indeed started to go back up, albeit only slightly. But an improvement was an improvement. 

I guess miracles do happen.

Stem cells!

It's only when you're bald that you fully appreciate exactly how much your hair helps keep you warm in the winter. Towards the end of November 2010 I really started to feel the cold a lot more because I was starting to feel more and more ill.

WARNING-Sciency bit!

I regularly had to go to hospital for blood transfusions to keep my red blood cell count high. The red blood cells are the ones which carry oxygen around the body. As chemotherapy attacks all fast replicating cells in the body (hair, finger nails etc) it also stops your bone marrow producing blood cells. This includes red blood cells, platelets and white bloods cells (neutrophils being a type of white blood cell). This is why people on chemotherapy are tired and more prone to infection. As the body stops producing the white blood cells the immune system is weakened, meaning that infections can't be destroyed. The reduction in red blood cells means that less oxygen is carried in the blood and this leads to tiredness, and in extreme circumstances death. The platelets are what causes the blood to clot. The body also stops producing these, meaning that people on chemotherapy will bruise more easily and bleed a lot heavily if cut. Because of this, anyone on chemotherapy has to have their blood levels checked regularly, and if a certain level is not met then the patient must undergo a blood transfusion. This isn't possible for a lack of white blood cells however, because they cannot be transfused.

The things you learn as a cancer patient ey!

The blood transfusions were given just like chemotherapy was, but it only took a number of hours rather than days, and I was able to go to the children's ward at Hull Royal Infirmary for them, although as this wasn't a TCT ward and it was full of babies with infections I had to be put into an isolation room that was more designed for babies than a 16 year old such as myself.

The week following my third chemotherapy I started with my GCSF injections. These stimulated my bone marrow so that it produced more stem cells so they could be harvested. These would be put back into me following high dose chemotherapy so that my immune system would come back faster and so the high dose chemotherapy didn't just kill me outright. I would have this high dose chemotherapy following my six cycles of VIDE chemotherapy but they needed to harvest the stem cells a few months in advance.
I did my own injections, everyday for a week.

These hurt quite a bit.

November 2010.

Following the week of injections I went to Leeds to have my stem cells harvested. I had a tube put into my neck, called a vascath. It went into my jugular vein and stuck out my neck a good few inches. It had to be inserted under a general anaesthetic at Leeds General Infirmary. This meant I could have my stem cells harvested through this rather than having to have a needle in each arm, as my blood would be taken out and passed through a machine, which removed the stem cells, before being put back into me.

Example of what a vascath looks like, it was about as comfortable as it looks and a bloody pain to sleep with! 

November 2010

I was hooked up to a machine that harvested my stem cells over about five hours and I managed to produce a huge amount, even the nurses were impressed! I returned to Leeds General Infirmary and they just pulled my vascath out of my neck! I didn't expect it at all! No anaesthetic and I didn't feel any pain, just a very very strange feeling of a tube moving from inside my jugular vein, something I never want to feel again if I'm honest! 

The machine which harvested my stem cells. Lots of my blood in them tubes!

November 2010

Chemotherapy was also starting to make me go a little crazy too......

Or crazier, at least!

November 2010.

I have Ewing's Sarcoma-what?!

Sunday the 5th of September 2010 would prove to be the first of many sleepless nights in hospital. I arrived at Birmingham sometime on the Sunday afternoon, as my biopsy was due to take place on the Monday morning. At the time I thought I was coming to terms with being diagnosed, but looking back I don't think it's something you ever really accept, it's just something you have to live with.

I went for a meal at a pub called The Cock and Magpies in Birmingham (it sounds hilarious in a West Midlands accent unfortunately, so probably not the best name for a pub in Birmingham!), with both my family and Sarah's on the Sunday evening. This would be the last time Sarah would see me with a full head of hair.

The ward itself had been done up by the Teenage Cancer Trust (more on this amazing charity later and what you can do to help) and it also happened to be the place I first met someone else with bone cancer. He was called Sam and he was 14. I never saw him again after my time in Birmingham, but I would love to know how he is doing and I hope he's still with us. It was somewhat surreal for me, to sit and talk to someone in the same place as me, but it definitely helped me. We both reassured each other that everything would be fine, even though neither of us had a clue about what we had!

The biopsy went ahead the next day and they took a small chunk of my tumour. I asked if they'd take out a bit for me to have a look at (don't even ask why I wanted a piece of my tumour..) but apparently they're not allowed to just give out bits of tumour! Following my biopsy I went back home in the evening, with the biopsy results due in just over a week's time, on the 14th of September.

I started sixth form on the 9th of September 2010, feeling horrendous and wondering what the point in it all was. Was there any point in getting out of bed if I was dying? I began to tell more people about my diagnosis. It was like some sort of nightmare. The worst bit must have been people asking if I would be okay. I didn't know for certain and I was terrified of the thought of dying.

On the evening of the 14th of September I received a call from the hospital in Birmingham with the results of my biopsy. I had Ewing's Sarcoma, a very rare type of bone cancer. I was one of only about thirty people diagnosed with it in the UK each year.

Naturally I did the first thing I do when I don't know something. I googled it. Below is what I found out.

Ewing’s sarcoma is named after Dr James Ewing, who described the tumour in the 1920s. It's a cancer that can develop anywhere in the body, although it most often starts in the bone. Any bone can be affected, but the pelvis, thigh bone (femur) and shin bone (tibia) are the most common places.


Fewer than 30 children in the UK develop Ewing’s sarcoma each year. It usually occurs in the teenage years, and more commonly affects boys than girls.

Five-year survival for localized disease is 70% to 80% when treated with chemotherapy. Five-year survival for metastatic disease can be less than 10%.


I knew mine was metastatic. I now understood why they'd told me not to look it up on the internet. As I would find out in the next few months not everyone follows the statistics, every single cancer is different.


I also found one out one more thing. Ewing's Sarcoma usually responds well to both radiotherapy and chemotherapy. I knew that it would be hard. Some days I would feel like giving up. Some days I would question if it was worth it. But I knew there was hope. A small light in the very very dark place I was in at the time. 

The next few steps...

This is the face I probably pulled when they told me I had cancer.

September 2010.

It's hard to tell someone bad news. It's hard to tell someone that you won't be able to go with them on Saturday night. It's hard to tell someone that you're moving away. It's harder still to tell someone you have cancer. I know it's the hardest thing to tell your girlfriend you have cancer three weeks before her 17th birthday. 

Sarah Walker was my girlfriend at the time. We'd been together for nearly two years, and although she lived in Gloucester, over 200 miles away from where I lived, we were going strong. She knew I'd been at the hospital having a scan and text me while I was driving home from the scan on the 31st of August. She asked me if I was okay and I knew I couldn't say anything by text. I had to say everything was fine, even though it really wasn't. I called her as soon as I got home.

They found a malignant tumour on my pelvis and they think it's cancer. 

They found a malignant tumour on my pelvis and they think it's cancer. 

They found a malignant tumour on my pelvis and they think it's cancer. 

I can type it with ease (heck I managed to three times!), but saying it is a completely different story. I knew it would upset her so so much and it was almost as if by saying it, I was the one causing her pain. But say them I did. 

Just so you know, this part of today's entry may seem a little disjointed and somewhat scrambled. I don't really know how to say how it felt for both of us and I don't honestly believe it's possible to put it across in writing. I'll give it a shot though. 

I told her I had cancer. Her crying will stay with me until the day I die. Sarah's crying caused me to start crying too and I don't think either of us stop for a while! She honestly thought I was going to die, and if I'm really honest so did I. Sarah was a pillar of strength for me those few days and the next few months. Although we're no longer together she's still my best friend and I'm so so grateful for her. I wouldn't be here without her. Thank you Sarah! 

Sarah Walker.

June 2011

The next day, the 1st of September 2010, I had a meeting with Dr Cattermole at Hull Royal Infirmary. She would be giving me the results of the CT scan on my lungs the previous day. My parents and I were taken into a small room and sat down. The doctor looked me straight in the eyes and told me, in a quiet calm voice, "There's no easy way to tell you this but has spread to your lungs." I didn't know what to say but all I can fully remember is my Mum's grating, heart-wrenching cries. I don't think I'll ever forget it. My Dad fainted as he heard the news. It felt so strange to be the one telling my parents everything would be okay, even though I didn't believe one word of it myself. 

At this point I wanted to run away, to just leave and disappear completely. But I knew I had to stay strong for my family and friends. I had a bone scan (more on the different types of scan later on) and it revealed I had small tumours all over the top of my skull, a few on the left side of my pelvis and what looked like two small pieces on my spine. I didn't know what to feel or think. I knew I was definitely ill and I thought I was going to die. No 16 year old should ever think that. 

              My chest x-ray at the bottom showing the tumours in my lungs and at the top what a clear chest x ray looks like.

September 2010.

The correct term for a cancer that has spread is metastatic. This means it has spread to different parts of the body from the original tumour, which is referred to as the primary tumour. At this point I had metastatic bone cancer. Most likely one of the two main types of bone cancer; osteosarcoma or the rarer type, Ewing's Sarcoma.

On the 2nd of September 2010, Sarah and her Mum, Frances (Hi Frances!), both came down. I have to say they were both of tremendous help to both me and my parents. This was the day I had organised to meet up with my friends. I had to tell them what was going on and thought this was the best way. We met up in Hornsea, a small town near to me. I don't think I've ever made so many people cry! Not a dry eye in the house and a time I'll always remember. Thank you to you all for being there for me. On a somewhat less serious note, having just told my friends I had cancer I decided I wanted some chocolate of some sort (because I had cancer damn it and I wanted chocolate!). However I made the unfortunate choice of buying some Celebrations and it wasn't until one of my friends pointed it out that I realised what I'd done. 

Celebrations- The sweets to celebrate your cancer diagnosis with!

On Friday the 3rd I went for an MRI at Hull Royal Infirmary. This was to gain a better picture of my tumours on my pelvis so they could perform a biopsy of it. A biopsy is where they take a small chunk of the tumour and look at it under a microscope to determine what type of cancer it is. This enables the correct chemotherapy and/or radiotherapy to be given. Because my cancer was bone cancer I would have to go to the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital in Birmingham for my biopsy. I was booked to go on the Sunday and have my tumour biopsied on the Monday. 

I hope that's enough for today. I had to do a lot of this from notes I wrote at the time as I was so tired from not sleeping or eating. At this point I was considering how I would spend my last few months. Not speculating or daydreaming, but actually planning it. I thought I was dying. But I knew one thing was completely certain. I wouldn't give up without a fight. 

Hello there....

Well first off this is my first time blogging so I may blabber on a bit (or maybe not enough, I'm not really 100% on the amount of blabbering considered usual) and I apologise in advance for that! Firstly I'll introduce myself properly!

I thought the best way to do this would be a photo, they say a picture speaks a thousand words! Hopefully that'll go someway to explaining the mugshot above this! My name is Nick, and I'm 18, I live in East Yorkshire, just north of Hull! I'm currently at sixth form and I'm a massive politics, history and economics nerd! You'd be surprised at how much I love them three things! On a slightly less nerd note, I also play guitar and paint occasionally!
I suppose I should mention at this point why I've decided to start this blog and what makes me different to many other 18 year olds. When I was 16 I was diagnosed with a rare type of bone cancer called Ewing's Sarcoma. It was quite widespread but I finished treatment in July 2011, but I spent the whole of March last year in hospital, stuck in isolation. So, to celebrate the one year anniversary of this particular event I've decided to do a blog entry each day on a different aspect of having cancer as a young person! I hope it may be of interest to some people and give them an insight into what it is like to have a life threatening illness and maybe, just maybe, it might help someone who's going through the same thing as I was last year.

Thank you to anyone who has bothered to read this and I'll hopefully be starting tomorrow, most likely covering my initial diagnosis!