Family and Friends

I want to start off today by saying a huge thank you to everyone who's bothered to read and share so far. I'm very grateful to all of you. I'd also like to give a huge apology to everyone who I've made cry!

Cancer is one of them things which everyone says isn't going to happen to them. It's always something which is going to happen to someone else. This is particularly true at a young age and I have to say I find it awful that they don't teach anything about awareness of cancer in young people in schools. I think delays in diagnosis could be reduced if young people knew what symptoms to look out for. I didn't even know you could get bone cancer until I got told I had it! One of the main reasons I started this blog was to raise awareness of not only bone cancer, but of teenage cancers and how people can help by donating blood and highlighting the work of charities such as the Teenage Cancer Trust.

I'm going to be taking a bit of a sidetrack today by talking(or should that be typing?) about the impact that cancer can have on family and friends. Only one person actually has the cancer but the amount of people it affects is huge, and I personally think it upset my family and friends more than it upset me, particularly my parents and grandparents.

My parents both felt useless after I'd been diagnosed. They could support me all the way but they still had to watch me get ill. They saw the effect chemotherapy had on me and wished it could be them instead. My grandparents all thought it should've been them with cancer rather than me because of how young I was. All my relatives did their best to see me before I had lost my hair. It was hard to explain to my two cousins under ten why my hair had fallen out and why I looked so ill. We just told them that I was having some medicine which would make me ill before it made me better. Seeing all my family made me realise what I was fighting for and that everyone was there to support me. Family really are the best.

A load of my friends and me! (The bald one at the back)

I'm not sure where I'd be without the above lot of people, along with a load others who I simply can't get a picture of all together! There's been many times when they've not known what to say and I doubt anyone would in those situations. There's nothing to say when you tell someone that you might be dying. They've all been the most supportive friends I can imagine and although it's been hard for them to keep in contact with me when I've been away from Sixth Form for long periods they've all done their best. I've always tried to joke about my cancer because it stops it being something I fear, and although the jokes have at times been horrendously distasteful it's my cancer and I'll joke about it as much as I damn well please! I'm not afraid of it and I'll quite happily talk to anyone about it (if you have a question about anything to do with it feel free to ask!) However, I must admit I haven't always told them everything because I've been worried about upsetting them but I honestly don't think I would be here without you guys.

All in all, although only one person has the cancer it affects so many people around them. There were times when I was fine but my friends and family were not. When I was confident in getting better, but my friends would worry about me. Cancer is a horrible disease. Although it was the doctors that gave me the treatment, it was my family and friends that helped me through everything. You were all with me every step of the way.

 I love you all. 

First Scans...

I had always thought something unusual would happen to me. That maybe one day an event in my life would happen, almost like something straight out of a film. I was more hoping for winning the lottery or becoming famous than getting a life threatening disease though if I'm honest!

Sarah came to visit me in the October half term which helped me a lot, although it upset her to see me so ill and unable to eat. But she struggled through and helped me as best she could. I doubt I could ever repay her for it if I'm honest. Thank you Sarah!

Sarah and I.

October 2010

I was also told at this point that because of where my tumours were it was unlikely that surgery would be an option and that I would most likely be having radiotherapy. I was also told that if I had the radiotherapy to my head, my hair would never grow back. I suppose I'd have to get used to being bald.

I had another round of tests on my kidneys and heart to check that they were still in working order, which they were. I was told that following my third session of chemotherapy I would have to have my stem cells harvested so that they could be used in a stem cell transplant (more on this later). I would have an injection everyday for a week and then I would go to Leeds to have my stem cells harvested. I'll cover more on this tomorrow though!

Never ever.

At the end of October I had scans and at the beginning of November I got the results. These would show whether the chemotherapy was working or not. If not there wouldn't be much they could do for me, only extend my life for a while. Predictably I was nervous as hell. Sometimes I would get myself so worked up worrying and then within an hour I would be convinced I would be fine. This went on for weeks and weeks and if I'm honest still occasionally worries me. It's a very unusual place to be in, as not many other people have experienced it, meaning it's hard to explain to many people. I was so uncertain and scared of what would happen. I think for the first time in my life I realised that you don't live forever. You're alive for a certain number of days and there's nothing you can do to change that, you've just got to make the most of the time you have.

I was in hospital when I received the scan results. The MRI of my pelvis showed new tumours had appeared on the left side of my pelvis. Fortunately my main tumour on the right side had shrunk slightly. This meant that the chemotherapy had had an effect on my tumours! The new tumours on the left hand side of my pelvis came as a shock though. My cancer was even more widespread than I had thought, and I was worried that it might carry on spreading even while the chemotherapy was attempting to work. Luckily the chemotherapy had shrunk my main tumour though, if only slightly. There was hope! 

I was scared of dying still, and I still am scared in case my tumours start growing again at the moment. I realised that scans aren't black and white, there's always a grey area. An area that could be a tumour or may just be a blood vessel or infection. I'd also realised that nothing ever turns out the way you planned. I thought that I would be okay on chemotherapy but I was so tired all the time and after over a month of being tired and ill it was starting to take its toll on me. My eyelashes and eyebrows were starting to fall out too and although my skin was better, it was still badly scarred. If it wasn't for my friends and family I wouldn't have been able to get this far. But the chemotherapy had begun its job. There was a reason to carry on fighting.

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.