StingGB

It's been 14 months, and I'm still here (just). Update with what's happened since the last posts soon. StingGB

I promised I’d update, so here goes… My treatment is over, today. I’ve had 4 sessions of chemotherapy (over 3 months), 15 consecutive days of radio therapy, and 10 days of radio therapy to the brain as a preventative measure. The chemo sessions were severe, each lasted 10+ hours. The good news: My last scan showed a two-thirds reduction in tumour size - from 9cm down to 3cm. This is a fantastic result. I was only weeks away from death before treatment. Big thanks to my consultant - she delivered. And I even kept my hair, although its very patchy and not growing. But I’m afraid that is the end of the good news… Being only 55, and otherwise in excellent health, my consultant warned me she was going to nearly kill me to extend my life. And she wasn't joking. There is absolutely no way I would have been given, or would have survived, the harsh treatment I’ve received if I’d have been older, or with other conditions. Strangely, it wasn’t the chemo that flattened me. Before cancer I’d, like everyone else, known people with cancer, and the word chemotherapy frightened me. But in all honesty, it wasn’t too bad. A few days of nausea/lethargy after each treatment, then pretty much back to normal for 2 weeks. I got used to it. But the radio therapy, oh God the radio therapy. The only way to describe it is it’s a vicious monster that creeps up on you. The first ten sessions, again, went Ok. I really began to think I was pretty much getting away with all this cancer treatment. But then during the last five days, everything changed. I’d often wondered why cancer patients lost weight. Did the cancer stop them from eating or did they loose their appetite? In fact I asked my cancer specialist about this before treatment, and she was vague in her answer. Well the answer, for me anyway, is both. I’m 6’ tall, and normally weigh 12.5 stone. Whilst not skinny, I’m slim, and have little leeway for weight loss. Well, let me tell you, I’ve lost 2+ stone in just 6 weeks and I’m still loosing it. I’m genuinely in real danger of going sub-10 stone right now, and for a guy with my height, that’s skeletal. I just can’t eat. For someone who normally loves his food, not being able, or having the slightest interest in eating, anything, is horrible. The radio therapy has burned my insides and has severely narrowed my oesophagus. The acid reflux is horrific. Swallowing anything but iced water has been like swallowing pure acid. On top of that the radio therapy took away my appetite. Add to that the drug they gave me to counter the acid reflux didn’t work. It got so bad that after 2 weeks I admitted myself into hospital as an inpatient, was put on morphine to counter the pain, and was going downhill quite fast. Drips were being talked about, I was loosing. I don’t know where on earth I found the impetus, perhaps it was the ineptitude of the junior doctors/agency nurses who seemed to do nothing except rouse me every 2 hours day and night for mundane and pointless tests, that made me decide that if I’m going to die, I’d rather do it at home without the sleep deprivation torture. So I discharged myself from hospital. Cutting a very long story short, it wasn’t the cancer specialists that came to my rescue, but a lowly GP at my local practice who I’d never met before. After hearing my plight he said ‘I’m going to prescribe these; they are the Rolls-Royce of anti-acid drugs’. Word for word I replied ‘I hope so, because I’m loosing the battle here.’ It was true, and he could see it. Well, he was right. Within days the new tablets began to work. A month later the acid reflux had all but gone. The doc was my new hero, and is on my Christmas card list. The only reason I’m not eating at the moment is because the brain radio therapy has, again, stolen my appetite. But one battle at a time. So that’s how things stand today. 50+ trips to hospital. Hundreds of hours in traffic and in waiting rooms. Pain, pain, pain. 1000+ pills popped. Scores of needles and injections. Numerous scans, measurements, fittings, meetings and consultations. And a knackered relationship, although I think she’ll forgive me eventually. I’d love to end on a positive note, but as I lie here on the same settee for about the 100th day in a row, it’s hard to think of one. I have extended life, but I curse my survival instinct, and sometimes wish I’d bowed out with dignity before all this, because life right now isn’t a life. I said in my original (first) post that I wanted my old life back. Well I now know that’s impossible. I’m not the same person, and I know I never will be. But there is one constant to be had here… I will post again, and I hope next time from a happier prospective. Thanks very much for reading.

Hi Cindy, Your post really resonated with me. And I'm quite amazed you haven't had more resposes to it. Firstly, congratulations on 6 years btw. It's been barely 10 weeks since my diagnosis. I quickly picked up on this - being able to use cancer in life as an excuse for everything - basically a free pass. To prevent this from happening, what I've done is kept it secret from all but a tiny handful of people. The result is when I'm out (if feeling ok between treatment), my social circle still treats me exactly the same as before. Blokey banter and p*ss-takes, and no-one feels awkward about reminding me of my (several) foyables and shortcomings. This is how life was before cancer, and this is how it should remain. It's grounding. And one of the best decisions I've made so far during this process. In fact I regularly apologise to the few I've told for cursing them with the knowledge. Because cancer does change relationships.

Hi, I'm a 54 year old male. 2 months ago I was diagnosed with inoporable stage 4 Small Cell Lung Cancer (SCLC). 9cm tumor, left lung, attached to lymph. After a brain and full body scan, currently no spread. If you are reading this you must be affected by SCLC personally. There is no other reason for you to be here. I can offer very little in terms of experience. But what I have experiencd so far l'll share, plus tell you what my plans are. I hope this helps someone... The shock of being diagnosed with SCLC for me was not the cancer itself, but what it did to me as a person. When I walked out of that consulting room, everything I thought I understood about myself; my rationalle, intelligence, and understanding of the world as I knew it completely disappeared. And the effect was immediate. I became a child again. Clinical shock. I became self obsessed. I felt entitled to everything I wanted for the remainder of whatever time I had left, to the exclusion of all others and everyone else. I became a bit of a monster. The first piece of good news, and for everyone who is newly diagnosed, however the initial shock affects you...THIS WILL CHANGE, AND FOR THE BETTER. And surprisingly quickly. With the help of your clinical team, loved ones and friends, your intelligence and rationalle will return, and you will figure out a plan. I promise you this. I'm just about to start my 3rd session of chemo (of 4) with 15 consecutive radio therapy sessions starting in conjunction. Side effects aren't too bad at the moment. I know they will get worse with the two treatments running together. I haven't even lost my hair yet! My 'side bets'... It took me a while before I could face trawling though SCLC sites. But I'm glad I did. After much research and deliberation, and taking into consideration I don't want cancer to become everything in my life, I settled on three complimentary treatments that are easy to maintain, and it appears can have some positive results. They are: Milk Thistle, Turmeric, and I'm working on obtaining some high grade Cannabis Oil. Together with my Chemo and Radio therapy, a healthy diet, excercise, plenty of fresh water daily, and multi-vitimins, these are my way forward. But I'm ready to listen, learn, and adapt. State of mind: How anyone deals with cancer psychologically is of course different for each person. For me, I'm not joining the 'cancer club.' I refuse to join face-to-face groups or communities, however helpful these groups clearly are to many people. Besides my wonderful girlfriend, I've only told a few very close people about my diagnosis. For me, telling friends and wider family imposes obligations on them, abiet unintentionally, and I want to avoid that. I also have an eye on a period after treatment when I can hopefuly get my old life back, and just be me. SCLC is something that is getting in the way of a life I enjoyed and I'd like it back, pretty much as it was, for whatever time I have left. Finally, I try not to be conceited. I know almost nothing about SCLC, or what is going to happen to me in terms of the effects of long term treatment, and after. I am just doing now what I've learned I need to do today. I'm ready and willing to learn. I'm blessed with a few things. Strange, probably, for many to hear the word 'blessed' in this context, but I have no children. I have a girlfriend I love and who loves me. Great friends, family, I think a great team of specialists, and very good health outside of the obvious. Cancer has definately changed me as a person, there's no doubt about that. But I'm quite amazed at the progress I've made so far in such a very short space of time. I feel sad reading some of these older posts. Many with positive messages from SCLC sufferers or from their loved ones, and then nothing for years. Have they all really gone? I've promised myself I'll update this post every now and again regardless of what happens to me. And if I get lucky perhaps I can also offer some hope of longevity to others. I'll also pop back every now and again to see if there are any replies, which are all very welcome. Thanks for reading.