I’ve kinda made an unofficial New Year’s resolution to go get checked for absolutely everything. I had two stents put in last year and have been back in emergency twice , both false alarms happily. I’ve got a completely changed outlook on life now and am not willing to take anything for granted.
I had a prostate procedure ten years ago but still have symptoms so I’m lined up for a scan next week. (PSA test normal.)
Yesterday I did the colon cancer test and got that sent off and in March I’m due to see the lung specialist again. I saw him a year ago and he said everything was fine , but considering I was at one time a heavy smoker I’m going to insist on a scan.
The mother-in -law died last year very soon after being diagnosed with secondary liver cancer and that was fucking awful to have to go through.
We all know the mantra about how if it’s diagnosed early then your chances of survival are good , but if you’ve got no symptoms then how do you even know ? So that’s it for me , I’m gonna make me way through the most common ones and hope for the best.
Very true.
A retired fighter pilot (Top Gun graduate and squadron leader) I knew well suddenly dicovered his six-pack had turned into one-pack one day when he happened to look at the mirror when barebodied.
Turned out he got terminal stomach cancer and passed away 2 months later.
His yearly full medical checkup had not caught it. There were no symptons and he never felt any pain or discomfort.
It was a bolt from out of the blue.
My mum hadn’t been well over last Christmas. Slowly but increasingly confused, losing a little weight, becoming unstable etc etc but nothing we could put our fingers on. Getting her into the doctors was difficult as they were still playing the COVID card and she really didn’t want to go. One day January last year I went round and just decided to take charge. Drove to the doctors, asked for an appointment (as their phone / online system was shite) to which they agreed and took her. Thankfully the doctor knew her pretty well (she was previously a very smart headteacher) and realised she really wasn’t herself. Refered her that day to Warrington’s critical same day department. Word to the wise, if you ever get refered there, take a book, a tent and a week’s food.
We finally saw the doctor at 5:30am having arrived mid afternoon. He was outstanding. I’d just listened to his conversations with 3 other patients (small curtained emergency treatment area) and his breadth of knowlegle was amazing. They admitted her and found a bed and wow that’s where the roller coaster started. Worth noting this was a Friday, a theme which would be recurrent.
They chased a few odd blood levels and heart tests for a week with little successs and eventually went for the CT. That’s when they found the tumour on her stomach and it was 220mm X 190mm x 120mm. That was one hell of a specialist meeting.
Fast forward to today (quicker) We’ve had Friday nights in Liverpool Royal A&E, a thousand tests, scans, prods, pokes and sample and 7000 appointments at the stunning new Clatterbridge (as is LR). Weeks in hospital and more blood tests than you can shake a stick at. Been an interesting year. But the news, and it’s rather incredible. There was only one treatment available for her tumour (surgery absolutely out) and it would only work if the thing had a very specific genetic abnormality. As it happened it did. It’s now the size of an orange and she’s so much better in herself. Her hair’s thinned slightly, that’s the only side effect. She calls it a miracle, I thank science.
Just shows that not all dreadful scans and results are awful. I accept she’s in the minority and we have a hell of a medical team at our back. After a year of practice, I still can’t work out how to sleep in a hospital chair but I have found all the local pubs
Stay safe all and if it feels odd, get it checked!
As part of the cardiac rehab programme here we were introduced to Qigong. The guy teaching it was big on showing gratitude to your body , by smiling … a lot ! I have to admit to feeling a bit of a prick to begin with , but one year later I still do a daily ten minute workout in the morning , which really does put your head in a nice place for the day ahead.
To @Rooster and @StanSB I would like to pass on a couple of stories that I hope will encourage them.
My dad was also diagnosed with bowel cancer and underwent an operation which was a complete success. The cancer never returned and he lived for another twenty years. Someone I know here was told that her cancer was inoperable and that she had only a matter of months left. Well, they were wrong. Radiation treatment shrunk the tumour and an operation became possible. Four years later she is still with us and in relative good health.
The kicker is that the results of medical tests are rarely absolute, as in the same result means the same thing for every patient. In simple terms if there isnt something about your case that would make the Dr be concerned a certain test would come back positive then a positive result in that test is actually most likely clinically irrelevant to you. In the language of epidemiology, we’re talking about “pre-test probability of a positive result”. So the exact same set of results on a colon cancer screening test would mean something different to a doctor for a seemingly healthy 25 year old (to the point of it being medically irresponsible to even issue the test) vs a seemingly healthy 50 year old (age indicated increased risk of disease of interest) vs a patient complaining of symptoms consistent with colon cancer. This importance of clinical context is why things like annual blood work just because, or whole body scans are not only not worth it but potentially dangerous if an anomaly is incorrectly interpreted as clinically relevant and a path of treatment is started for something the patient didnt actually need.
Take the test you are indicated for based on your age, medical history and current symptoms, but be careful of people pushing more “holistic” screening.
So here I am after round 1 of the chemotherapy program. Only 11 to go.
I naturally wore the LFC underpants as a good luck charm and 24 hours in no side effects. The treatment is easy enough - 3 hours in a chair being infused with whatever through a chest port they inserted last week. More infusion for 48 hours via a tube you can transport around with you. Like carrying an epipen but with a tube into the needle that sits in the chest port.
Apparently I can get on with life for the next 6 months such as work, football coaching and exercise like golf which is nice.
The risk is nasty side effects or attracting virus or fever. So far so good.
To be clear I am very lucky they got it out early and not on my deathbed. I’m Stage 3 which means it spread to the surrounding group lymphs he removed. In my case only 1 yes fucking 1 lymph which means precautionary chemo ffs. Stage 4 is when it spreads to other organs like Liver and that is a whole different world of treatment and issues.
It’s madness just to leave it to chance and hope everything’s gonna be ok , when there’s stuff you can actually do.