When the scans report came out, in August 2019, I was beyond devastated.
Euthanasia was first thing on my mind.
My oncologist, who has the best of intentions, but not the finesse of a public relations consultant, was adamant that I receive treatment immediately. In fact, when the blood tests came out, he already knew that it was a relapse and insisted that I do the MRI and PET scans. Not to confirm what he already knew, but to know the extent of it. Reluctantly I agreed to the scans. Even then, I wanted to delay the scans, as I had planned a trip to Cambodia, flights and hotel were paid up. However, my oncologist stressed the urgency of the scans. At that point I was still clueless. I was still hoping that whatever it is, let me have a good holiday first, and then come back to deal with it later.
As it would turn out, the scans were scheduled ASAP, and I didn't get to go to Cambodia.
As professional as the radiologists and doctors are, one can read the subtle body language, and so, as soon as the radiologist come to help me out from the scanner bed... I could tell... it wasn't good.
When I read the reports, I thought my life was over. From that point, there were tears and despair, daily.
I broke down when I went to see my oncologist to go through the report. He was speaking of treatments, I wasn't listening, and told him I have no funds left after the first round of diagnosis and treatment, back in 2014. The expensive treatment stretched over a year, exceeded insurance payouts, and exhausted any money in my bank accounts. In my mind, I didn't want to burden my sister and brother, who would likely have to foot all the bills should I receive treatment. That meeting with the oncologist was brief, and not productive at all. Perhaps it was my mental state then... all I could really think of was how and where and when shall I get euthanasia.
Subsequent visits to the oncologist, and other doctors, were accompanied, as I wasn't in a state where my mind was clear enough to listen and digest information.The weight of it all affected not just me, but my sister, who's my closest living relative. Sleepless nights ensued... for weeks, with the weight of uncertainties and fogginess clouding our minds.
Yet, one of the things I remembered most about what my oncologist said, was that I was a walking time bomb. I could die at any time should the tumour in my head move! One particularly large spread was just hovering on my brain stem, almost blocking it off, and my oncologist didn't mince his words. He was really stressing how bad it is to me.
I recalled asking, what would happen if it does move or detach, and he replied, I would just die as I lose function of everything. I asked if I would be conscious, he said unlikely. Somehow, that felt comforting. That felt like a fast and speedy way to die. Even without his words, I was already in despair, and with his words, I truly felt like I was a dead person walking. I felt condemned! I felt I've been served the death sentence.
Given how dangerously positioned and large the tumour was, I was even afraid when I drove.. in case I lose consciousness and end up crashing the car and hurting others.
Surprisingly, I'm still alive today, by God's grace.
ALL IS CLEAR!
ALL IS CLEAN!
ALL IS GOOD!
This from a spread to the brain, the lungs, the bones, the reproductive organs.
On the PET scan, it looked so bad, I broke down.
On the second scan, after many prayers, support from loved ones, and treatment, it was GONE!
The doctor in charge of the reporting, actually came out from his room to asked me what treatment I'm on, in regards to the lungs, and also the type of cancer I have. This because it wasn't available on records as i am receiving treatment at a different hospital from where i do my scans.
Last week on Wednesday, I repeated the scans, as recommended by my oncologist, to have it 3 times a year.. and on Monday, 15th June 2020, I met up with my oncologist to go through the reports.
Thank God, the PET Scan, again it is ALL CLEAR, ALL CLEAN, ALL GOOD!
Praise God for His healing and protection.
Euthanasia was first thing on my mind.
My oncologist, who has the best of intentions, but not the finesse of a public relations consultant, was adamant that I receive treatment immediately. In fact, when the blood tests came out, he already knew that it was a relapse and insisted that I do the MRI and PET scans. Not to confirm what he already knew, but to know the extent of it. Reluctantly I agreed to the scans. Even then, I wanted to delay the scans, as I had planned a trip to Cambodia, flights and hotel were paid up. However, my oncologist stressed the urgency of the scans. At that point I was still clueless. I was still hoping that whatever it is, let me have a good holiday first, and then come back to deal with it later.
As it would turn out, the scans were scheduled ASAP, and I didn't get to go to Cambodia.
As professional as the radiologists and doctors are, one can read the subtle body language, and so, as soon as the radiologist come to help me out from the scanner bed... I could tell... it wasn't good.
When I read the reports, I thought my life was over. From that point, there were tears and despair, daily.
I broke down when I went to see my oncologist to go through the report. He was speaking of treatments, I wasn't listening, and told him I have no funds left after the first round of diagnosis and treatment, back in 2014. The expensive treatment stretched over a year, exceeded insurance payouts, and exhausted any money in my bank accounts. In my mind, I didn't want to burden my sister and brother, who would likely have to foot all the bills should I receive treatment. That meeting with the oncologist was brief, and not productive at all. Perhaps it was my mental state then... all I could really think of was how and where and when shall I get euthanasia.
Subsequent visits to the oncologist, and other doctors, were accompanied, as I wasn't in a state where my mind was clear enough to listen and digest information.The weight of it all affected not just me, but my sister, who's my closest living relative. Sleepless nights ensued... for weeks, with the weight of uncertainties and fogginess clouding our minds.
Yet, one of the things I remembered most about what my oncologist said, was that I was a walking time bomb. I could die at any time should the tumour in my head move! One particularly large spread was just hovering on my brain stem, almost blocking it off, and my oncologist didn't mince his words. He was really stressing how bad it is to me.
I recalled asking, what would happen if it does move or detach, and he replied, I would just die as I lose function of everything. I asked if I would be conscious, he said unlikely. Somehow, that felt comforting. That felt like a fast and speedy way to die. Even without his words, I was already in despair, and with his words, I truly felt like I was a dead person walking. I felt condemned! I felt I've been served the death sentence.
Given how dangerously positioned and large the tumour was, I was even afraid when I drove.. in case I lose consciousness and end up crashing the car and hurting others.
Surprisingly, I'm still alive today, by God's grace.
ALL IS CLEAR!
ALL IS CLEAN!
ALL IS GOOD!
This from a spread to the brain, the lungs, the bones, the reproductive organs.
On the PET scan, it looked so bad, I broke down.
On the second scan, after many prayers, support from loved ones, and treatment, it was GONE!
The doctor in charge of the reporting, actually came out from his room to asked me what treatment I'm on, in regards to the lungs, and also the type of cancer I have. This because it wasn't available on records as i am receiving treatment at a different hospital from where i do my scans.
Last week on Wednesday, I repeated the scans, as recommended by my oncologist, to have it 3 times a year.. and on Monday, 15th June 2020, I met up with my oncologist to go through the reports.
Thank God, the PET Scan, again it is ALL CLEAR, ALL CLEAN, ALL GOOD!
Praise God for His healing and protection.
