Information Overload

Follow-up meeting with Mr Morrissey can only be described as information overload.  I’ve updated the “support team” with what transpired, so now time to update the blog.

Started with a look at my CT scans – rather cool – and confirmation the cancer is indeed restricted to tonsils/mouth.  Chest was clear.  One for my corner.

From there on, it was somewhat of a whirlwind information overload scenario.  On way out, was recording some voice memos on my phone so I didn’t forget stuff and when I got home, I just dumped everything down in a list.

Now, a little while later, am trying to sort it into some sort of logical order, so here goes.

Tonsil cancer is rated on scale of T1 (smallest) - T4 (biggest), based on size of tumour.  Mine falls into T2 .  The Lymph node scale is N1(smallest) - N3 (biggest) - I'm N2.

Mr Morrissey didn't take the tonsil out because it isn't normal tonsil tissue now and he said it would have meant he spent at least two hours fighting major haemorrhaging on a Friday afternoon.  Fair call.  I said today was the first day I felt UI could swallow normally and he said it normally takes 10 days, so I was right on target.  He took a look at his handiwork and was happy with recovery progress.

The meeting on Wednesday will be with: Mr Hamilton (oncologist), 2 x plastic surgeons, dentist, speech therapist and a dietician.  Mr Morrissey is also hoping he’ll be out of his clinic in time to attend.  Bloody hell, what is going to happen to me?  While I expected information on treatment plans, etc, was totally unprepared for such a diverse number of people to be attending.  Mr M suggest I bring someone along with me as this will be rather a daunting meeting.  Really?  Me vs 7?  Told him I’d talked to Christine about coming and he thought that was a good idea as she has lived the process.

Moving on, initial plan is not to operate to remove blemish, tonsil or lymph node.  The radiotherapy is designed to attack/kill the overactive cells (the cancerous ones), so providing that all works, no need to operate.  Should they decide to operate – sitting comfortably are we? – will involve a ½ face reconstruction.  You What?  Didn’t ask any more as that sounded like something for a later date.  No point stressing about something that isn’t going to happen.

The chemo is apparently more of a targeted approach and is designed to be more of a general attack to get any rogue cells as I see it.  Interestingly, seems it adds about 10% to success/survival rate.  Not sure if the radio & chemo are going to be done consecutively or concurrently (time to get a notebook to start writing down my questions for Wednesday).

At this time, I’ll slightly change course.  Seems a PMA is critical (Positive Mental Attitude) as those that have one seem to respond better and are more likely to win out.  Told Mr M I preferred “victor” over “survivor” and he said that was a fine example of PMA.  That said he wanted to make it quite clear that I shouldn’t underestimate how bad this is going to get.  While everybody responds differently to treatment, we’re talking some pretty intense stuff here.

I’ll be fitted with a gastro stent, or something like that, as there will be times I won’t be able to swallow anything.  Seems this will be inserted pretty early in the piece.  This tends to imply a period of hospitalisation.

Treatment will probably start in three weeks or so.  They need to build a special mask of & for my face to ensure my head is always in the same position for the radiotherapy.  (Talked to Christine about this and she says each session is approx 30 minutes from go to whoa).

Also, any suspect teeth have to come out.  Another question.

Mr Morrissey suggest I give Tatiana a bottle of wine because she found this when I didn’t even present with any symptoms and I got the impression that had we be having this discussion as little as three months later, things might be different.  To top it all off, seems it is pure bad luck I’ve got tonsil cancer.

Last couple of points.  Seems survival rate after 5 years is 75-80%, so once I hit that milestone I’m pretty well deemed a victor.

Saving best for last.  Treatment could be anywhere from 7 weeks to 4 months and until Wednesday I’m not going to know how much of that will be incapacitation as opposed to treatment alongside my normal days.

Looks like I’m about to get some serious repayment of my tax dollars.

I won’t lie and say I’m looking forward to all of this, but by the same token the old “no gain without pain” adage comes to mind.  If this is what it takes to beat this thing, then bring it on.

I’m wondering what else could possibly be thrown at me on Wednesday, but not long to wait to find out.