Goodbye Mr. Hodgkin

Dear Mr. Hodgkin,

Goodbye. I will not miss you.

I keep asking myself why our paths crossed in the first place. Why did you enter my life and make me toss my plans out of the window? Was it because I always heated my food in a plastic zip-loc container? Was it because I didn't wash my vegetables? Was it because I often abused my body's ability to get rid of alcohol? I guess I will never know, will I?

You made my life pretty miserable, there is no nice way of putting it. But there is something inside me that doesn't fully regret our encounter. After 8 months of chemotherapy and a great deal of thinking about life, I am much closer to my family, I have more faith in God, and I am marrying the love of my life in about a month. Under that perspective, it's hard to say that your presence was a bad thing, isn't it?

I always liked the idea that I am a mentally strong person. There was no better test to that idea than having to deal with you. I wouldn't be cocky enough to say that I passed the test with flying colors, but I know I kept it together. More importantly, today I feel mentally prepared for any challenge. I say that because I know life will go on, whether or not I fail.

I hope our paths don't cross again. I will try my very best to avoid that. But if fate brings us together in the future, I will use the very same courage and strength you gave me during this year to fight you and I will come on top once again, mark my words.

Finally, I hope our story helped whoever read this blog through the rough times, even if it was by just showing that people in terrible situations do manage to get out of them. The truth is that life will throw its fair share of curve balls your way; that's part of the fun. I hope my little tale with Mr. Hodgkin helps whoever reads this to not bend and to not break when life gets rough. I sincerely hope that.

Goodbye Mr. Hodgkin. I didn't bend, I didn't break. And I am proud of that.

Yours truly,
André

Day 213 - Goals

Chemo this week was rough, as always. I was pretty cranky in the next couple of days. Still, I am beginning to feel a little more peaceful inside. It's comforting to know that this war will soon be over and I will be able to return to normal life.

As soon as I get back to normal life, I need to get back in shape. I do need to look half-decent during my honeymoon after all. Just kidding, I am aware that I need to be in good shape for the rest of my life, as I really don't want to fight Cancer again. That means eating healthy for most of the time and exercising pretty regularly.

With that said, I have been thinking about taking running seriously. I would like to go from chemo to a marathon in a year or so. For those hard-core runners, it may sound like no big deal. But I have never been a huge fan of running and I really want to see if I can actually finish a marathon. The ultimate goal, though, would be to do an ironman... a little ambitious, I know.

Maybe I will fail, maybe I will succeed... who knows? But I am pretty sure it won't be much harder than 16 chemo sessions.

Day 193 - I guess I lied

So in the beginning of this series of posts I said I'd use this to vent my thoughts, talk about my fears and the treatment... I guess I lied. Don't get me wrong, I did that for the most part. But the last month or so was hard. Despite knowing that the tumor is gone, I got angry that I couldn't really live my life. Instead of talking about it, my way of dealing with it was through not talking about it. During the past few weeks I managed to get even worse at keeping in touch, be it through here, facebook or phone.

The truth is that I considered stopping my treatment after the 6th cycle. My condition requires between 6 and 8 cycles, but all the doctors recommended 8. I was so sick of it, though, that I just wanted it to be done. But then I thought about it and decided to power through it. My reasoning was: if this thing comes back a few years down the road, how much am I going to hate myself for not doing EVERYTHING I could have done? I guess the answer is pretty obvious, eh?

Anyway, I had another chemo session a couple of days ago. As usual, Raquel was there with me. The session itself was quick and pretty painless. I actually thought I was going to get through it without vomiting. I did, though, as soon as I got home. I had my hopes high because my former roommate sent me an article about ginger (thanks Nadia!); according to some study, it reduces the nausea in cancer patients. Although I did feel ill, I think it helped a bit. I feel pretty good right now and I will certainly eat some ginger before my last two chemo sessions.

Yes, 2 to go! I got a hell of a lot to look forward to, that's for sure.

I won't bend. I won't break.

Day 150 - Mixed feelings

So I had another chemo a couple of days ago. Before starting it, I saw the doctor who gave me her blessing to eat sushi and play soccer - which may sound silly, but try not doing things you really like for over 6 months and you will know what I mean. So that made me pretty happy.

The chemo session itself was the same as before. It took just under an hour and I vomited once right before leaving the clinic. No big deal there. But the day after was a little rough. I had never vomited on the day after before. And this time that happened a couple of times. Not to mention that I felt pretty miserable during the day, I didn't get out of bed until the evening.

This mix of feeling happy about suhsi and soccer and feeling crappy because of chemo made me realize that I am pretty tired of the treatment. 5 sessions to go, it's almost over.

I can't wait to start saying this in the past tense, but for now... I won't bend, I won't break

Day 135 - Another Good Chemo

I went in for another chemo yesterday. Like the last one, it took just under two hours and I vomited once, when it was over.

It's funny how much things change in a month. A month ago I had 8 sessions left that were going to take 8-10 hours each. Absolutely brutal, it felt like forever. Now I have 6 sessions to go and I can almost see the end of the tunnel. The doctor said that I might have to go through radiotherapy as well (she will discuss that further with her colleagues). It would be that one last punch to knock out the beast, so I am not too worried about it.

So yeah, this was just a quick update on things. I know I have been slacking on my posts, but there is a lot going on here, from planning our wedding to figuring out stuff about our apartment, to studying for my masters. For those who know me, you know I always liked my plate pretty full, eh?

PS: I won't bend, I won't break

Day 121 - Ah, much better!

Last week I got a call from the hospital saying that my doctor wouldn't be able to see me for a couple of months. So I went in to see another doctor, a woman. She's much nicer than the old doctor and sure seemed interested on what I had to say. I complained a little bit about how uncomfortable I felt during my chemo sessions and she suggested I went to a private clinic in town, which has better structure than the public hospital.

Fair enough, right? So I went in the clinic to see the doctor there (who is an oncologist, not a hematologist like the others). After some half-hour of conversation, I told her I went there because I wanted a more comfortable bed for my chemo sessions... spending the whole day on a hard bed wasn't specially nice on my back. Her answer was pretty surprising, "why would you spend the whole day doing a chemo session? I honestly do not understand why hematologists insist on doing chemo that way! I promise you won't be here for more than 3 hours".

So I was thinking, this lady is either nuts or my savior. In any case, I decided to give it a shot and have my chemo session done there. Yesterday I went in at 2pm and the treatment started right away. A couple of hours later, the session was all done and I was feeling relatively well, as I only vomited once, on the way out. I wouldn't say that I felt like a million dollars for the rest of the day, but the aftermath was the best, certainly.

After a good share of googling and reading, I have come to accept that my treatment (ABVD) should indeed take no longer than three hours. I found a couple of blogs from patients stating that and, more importantly, institutions like the BC Cancer Agency mention that on official documents. I guess my new doctor is indeed my savior, and my old doctor is like the anti-christ. Ok, maybe that was too strong. After all, the wrong method did get me cured. The path could have been easier indeed. But in this case exceptionally, the destination matters more than the journey.

In my last post I said that the glass was half-full, but it was a damn huge glass. Until a couple of days ago, I told my friends that I felt like I was half-way done climbing the everest wearing nothing but a speedo. Things have changed with this new chemo, though. Not only I fell closer to the summit, but also I have the appropriate gear. Or, if you prefer the glass analogy, let's just say I was given a massive beer bong for that glass...

I won't bend. I won't break.

Day 98 - The glass is half full

I went through another chemo session a couple of days ago. As usual, the day went by almost in slow motion; that's just not good when you are at the hospital. I got there around 8:30 in the morning and my chemo didn't start until 11 ish. They were short staffed and things took longer than usual. As I mentioned before, my veins are in rough shape, so it was tricky for the nurses to get one.

Anyway, after hours of feeling ill and vomiting, the day slowly headed to an end. By the way, this time I didn't vomit any blood. I made sure I had food in my stomach during the day. Every time I vomited, I had one slice of bread and some water. Raquel and I left the hospital around 8pm. It was the longest day there so far.

I was pretty cold when I got home and took a long hot shower. After that, I went to bed and had a bit of a fever. I didn't want to eat or do anything other than staying in bed. That's when something odd happened: I vomited one last time and my fever was immediately gone. I stood up, washed my mouth and had a chicken breast sandwich. I felt just fine after that.

This was my 8th chemo session. I have another 8 to go. In the last 4 months I have been diagnosed with Cancer, treated and cured, not to mention that I got engaged. So it's impossible for me not to say that the glass is half full. But let me tell you, it's one damn huge glass. There's still a long way to go. The glass will be full soon, though. It's just a matter of time...

I won't bend. I won't break.