I stayed at a homeopathic clinic that is run by medical doctors practising homeopathy. They have scientifically (big medcial university in Germany) confirmed studies and treatments where they managed to actually remove metastasing breast cancer in women.

Good thing is, I do feel better now and have more energy. The most amazing thing was that I had an almost immediate reaction to the homeopathic medication. They continue the treatment remotely, me sending them information on certain parameters (weight, blood pressure, blood sugar levels, and other symptoms like headaches, but also fears and nightmares and other more esoteric measurements of my well-being) and they send me the medication.  I’ll probably return for another stay in a couple of weeks.

Since healing depends a lot on trust I will have to decide at some point, whether to forego the “classic medicine” with strong chemotherapy (which was not very successful so far) and to fully embrace the homeopathic treatment. I’m also looking into changing over into another “traditional” hospital.

Cheers,

Tom

Couldn’t be arsed to post for a while now, sorry! I am currently taking extended beauty sleeps (not that it really helps) during my days. This is probably due to the medications. Also, my eyesight is down to 40%, which makes working with a laptop rather difficult. I did get a white stick, however, in order to alert other pedestrians to give me a wide berth or risk being run over by a massive blind guy. This has also paid off in another way, as I was offered a seat on the tram by a well-meaning elderly lady – which I bashfully declined, mumbling something about tunnel-vision and not being totally infirm.

This weeks’ MRI results were quite encouraging, with no signifant new growth and the tumour apparently reacting to the chemotherapy since less contrast agent was absorbed. I have now scheduled chemotherapy sessions until October 2009 and I will have my head examined again in about two month’s time.

My reading projects have been shelved, literally, due to my sight impairment, but I hope to be able to resume reading soon with the help of a good magnifying glass.

In other news, our daughter Laura had her debutante’s ball at the opera house here, and boy did she look stunning! Young Stella is just back from a school trip to London, but wants to go back soon as the time alotted for shopping was far too short in her learned opinion. But before we go London again we will spend some of our summer holidays in France, near the castles of the Loire, where we have rented a house with a pool, a gourmet kitchen, and a grand piano in the hall. Can’t wait to go!

Cheerio,
Tom

Unfortunately, the resuts of the MRI on Wednesday were not all that good, there was some regrowth in the upper part of the tumour cavity, an indication that the current temozolomide chemotherapy has become ineffective. A new approach to the treatment was called for. So on Friday, I made use of my built-in IV-catheder – the portacath – for the first time. During a 3-hour session I got infused with Bevacizumab (trade name Avastin). This is not a chemotherapy drug as such, but it inhibits tumor growth by blocking the formation of new blood vessels (angiogenesis). It is one of Roche’s most successful and expensive products. I will now go for three rounds of treatment at 3-week intervals after which we will re-examine my poor head again. The whole thing has made me extremely tired, I practically slept all weekend, but no other ill side-effects so far.

Of course I am quite disappointed that the chemo didn’t work as well and as long as expected, but I am looking forward to some good results from the new treatment. I’ll keep you posted on the progress.

Good night and cheers,
Tom

The portacath was installed in my right shoulder on Monday and I could leave the hospital the next day. The whole operation took no more than 10 minutes in all, but I’ve been told it has been performed in South Africa in under 60 seconds (Gerry!) Heck, but that’s where they perform open-heart surgery  with hunting knives.

Glad to be at home again, especially since chemotherapy is back on this week and I am very tired again. Other than a slight discomfort when trying to sleep on my right side there are no noticeable side-effects from getting the port installed and only a small bump is visible under the skin. The port should be ready for its intended use by mid-February. There is a good chance, however, that we won’t be needing it for a while (maybe try some nice recreational drugs instead).

I am not just relying on conventional medicine, of course, I am taking a number of “alternative” medications such as frankincense, Omega-3 acids, etc. I try to  change my diet by cuttting down on red meat and by adding a lot of vegetables. I am also getting daily Reiki sessions by my angel Milena, which really help a lot and I will restart with acupuncture next month. Also, I’m contemplating to get some personal therapy sessions to deal with my subconscious mind. I will keep you posted.

Cheers,
Tom

Yesterday’s MRI showed some minor growth at the bottom of the tumour cavity. According to my doctors this is no surprise, but the small amount of growth seems to indicate that the chemotherapy with Temozolomide is working to some extent. Nevertheless, we will prepare to go one step further:

Next Monday I will check into a private hospital and have a portacath installed. This is a little titanium box with a silicone bubble for needle insertion. The box will be inserted under the skin in the upper chest and will be used to deliver intravenous drugs  as well as contrast agents for the MRI and CT-Scans. It will also be used to withdraw blood for the various tests which I will have to undergo during my treatment.

This is a small operation and I should be out of hospital again the next day.

On February 10th I will have another MRI and we will decide then whether it will be necessary to top-up my chemotherapy with Bevacizumab. This is actually not a cancer drug, but stops tumour growth by preventing the formation of new blood vessels.

So here goes, I get an artificial bump on my chest and I probably get to try out a new drug with a fancy name.

In the meantime I’ll eat, drink and try to be merry. My thoughts go out to my friends many of whom have been touched by fate in similar ways.

Cheers,
Tom

I will be checking in today for a second operation (garden-variety type) to remove the flower tomorrow morning. Should be nothing too taxing, since the neurosurgeon has already been there before. I’m looking forward to seeing lots of smiling faces when I wake up!

Love xxx

Tom

Had my last day of radiotherapy yesterday! I am so happy, as I tolerated the treatment less and less over time. The doctors also upped the dosage for the last week, so you can understand my relief that I’m finally done with it.

It will take a couple of weeks to get me back to normal but other than some low dosage cortisone and antibiotics I’m off drugs for now. Chemotherapy will start in about 6 weeks, in the meantime I’ll have another treatment to replenish my autoimmune system in Cologne.

Hey, things are definitely looking up, my hair should grow back, too bad summer’s almost over!

Cheerio,
Tom

Went to see the radio-oncologists a few days ago. What a contrast to my neurosurgeon!

The idea was to discuss my therapy and options, as well as (or so I thought) to answer any questions I might have. The doctor (think young urban Porsche driver with an attitude) was late for the appointment then rushed in declaring “… have to do this quickly, must move on …”. He then proceeded to tell me about the therapy: six full weeks of daily radiation, plus chemotherapy (Temozolomide).

This is how the conversation went:

Tom: So, what’s that going to do for me?
Doc: It’s going to add about three to four months to your life expectancy.
Tom: Well, that’s not really a lot, isn’t it?
Doc: You’ve about fourteen months then…
Tom: ???

It all went downhill from there (did I mention he was German?)

On the bright side, I am going to a clinic in Cologne tomorrow to start what is called a virotherapy. This is an alternative cancer treatment, which has shown quite some success and has been recommended to me by doctor friends (thanks Anja!).

In the clinic, doctors will grow something called dendritic cells from my white blood cells. These dendritic cells will then be loaded with a virus and injected into my system. Thus my autoimmune system should be kick-started and able to develop antibodies against the tumour. Sounds great, eh?

I’ll keep you posted on the progress!

Cheerio,
Tom

Spent the whole day at the hospital. After some initial confusion as to which floor/room I should be assigned to, I had a conversation with a nice Pakistani doctor who’s assigned as my case manager. He asked me about my medical history, medication, prior operations, etc.

Was then left to my own devices and served a fairly decent lunch in my room. Later it was off to do an ECG (electrocardiogram) and an x-ray of my lungs.

Was interviewed by the anesthetist about my medical history, medication, prior operations, etc. She then explained the pre-operative part (i.e. putting me to sleep) and made me sign a waiver that I understood the risks (heck, have I got a choice?).

Spent the rest of the day waiting for the surgeon. He was unable to make make it and will see me on Monday morning.

All in all a leisurely day and I managed to read a 400 page paperback novel.

Feeling somewhat better now. Just back from talking with the head of the neurosurgery clinic. It appears that the operation itself is no big deal, routine so to speak (see below).

Problem is, they don’t really know what it is.

On the positive side, however, the tumour seems to be well-defined and therefore easier to remove. We’ll have to wait and see.

Tomorrow I’ll go to hospital for some more tests and preparation, but thankfully they let me spend the weekend at home. Operation is scheduled Monday morning and will last 4 hours if all goes well. A circular piece of my skull will be removed with a drill, the tumour surgically removed (it is close to the surface, so it should be easy access (according the the surgeon). Then the piece of skull will be stapled (yes, stapled) back into place with a few titanium staples. If all goes well, my first post-op post should be on-line Tuesday.

Same time, the pathologists will start with the analysis of the tumour. Once we know what it is, a course of action can be taken.

Heck, this is an emotional rollercoaster, I’m really grateful for the support I get from my family and friends!