Flinders Peak - first mountain since surgery and the start of 'Third Life'

Scarlet Honeyeater at the Flinders Peak picnic area

At 679m Flinders Peak is not very big, but it does make a great day walk. Kev McCloskey organised for a group of eight to do Flinders yesterday but unfortunately he came down with a virus during the week and out of consideration for the fact that I have just completed my seventh day of combined radiation and chemo therapy, Kev (and Karen) very kindly opted to stay at home. The remaining six of us met at the foot of the mountain after Gary and Catherine generously picked up Chery and me on the way (I'm still not driving because of the risk of a seizure)



Cath, Alan, Cheryl, Catherine and Gary on the way up
Flinders Peak


It was fantastic to be out in the fresh air again and my legs felt very strong up the steep slopes and rock hopping over the rocky sections, so that was pleasing. Especially as it took three months to get back to normal after the last craniotomy and it has only been a month since surgery this time. There was an in-depth analysis of the correct way to adjust for magnetic variation on the way up (do you add or subtract?). Time passed very quickly with our chatty little group and before we knew it five hours has slipped by and we were back at the cars. Thanks guys for a much needed lift of spirits. An outdoor experience like that is about as close as I come to being spiritual!




















Me and Chery on the summit with my home town
of Beaudesert in the distance behind us

Drugs, drugs and more drugs!!!!

My daily drug intake has steadly increased over the last couple of months to the point where I now take the collection shown in the photo each day. The worst one is the Temodal which must be taken on an empty stomach and you can feel it sitting in there fizzing away while you wait half an hour for it to get into the brain and do its thing.

Today's good news was that a blood test showed that after five doses of combined chemo and radiation therapy, my red cell, white cell and platelet counts are still fine.

Radiation/Chemo Therapy 1 down, 29 to go...

This is a photo of Cheryl and me outside the Premion radio therapy clinic at the Wesley Medical Centre yesterday when I had my first dose of radiation therapy using X-rays to kill the remaining tumour cells left behind after the surgery. I am holding a bag containing my supply of the chemo-therapy drug Temadol, which is used for brain tumours (although it is usually used for malignant tumours rather than benign tumours like mine). Unlike most drugs, Temadol has the ability to cross the blood-brain barrier and get in there where I need it to do its job. It also has been shown to make tumour cells more sensitive to death by radiation, which is why I will be taking it during the radiation therapy. It was quite an experience having the face mask that I described in a previous post, clamped down hard on my face. It was so tight it was squashing my lips against my teeth. I tried to get a photo of it, but the nurses asked me to get permission from my doctor first. Maybe next week I'll get one.

Ready for Radiation

Yesterday I visited the Premion Radiation Oncology Clinic at the Wesley hospital to attend a "Planning" session which really turned out to be a setup session. They had to make a mask of my face which will be used to ensure that my head is positioned in exactly the same position each time I get zapped with the X-rays from the radiation machine. The formation of the mask was actually a pleasant experience as they pressed a warm soft mesh onto my face, it was a bit like receiving a facial massage! The image I have palced to the left shows an example of this process. I will be receiving a treatment that is called Conformal Radiation therapy (see http://www.medterms.com/script/main/art.asp?articlekey=13504) using five beams.Yesterday, after the mask had set they performed a CT scan of my brain and this scan will be merged with an MRI scan that was done later in the day (that is because the MRI shows up the tumour better than the CT). So now I am all set for the first dose of radiation scheduled for next Thursday at 10:30 am. Hopefully this therapy, which comprises 30 of these fractional doses, will kill off any tumour cells left behind from the surgery.

First Bushwalk since surgery

Last weekend Michael and I went out to White Rock at Redbank Plains and did the 7km return walk to White Rock. It was such a relief to get out of the city and do something slightly more energetic again. Unfortunately, the sandstone is far too soft for climbing so we had to limit ourselves to just the walk.

Hitting rock bottom

The last four weeks have, without a doubt, been the hardest time since I was diagnosed with this tumour way back in 1993. My resilience was first tested on 16 June when I visited Dr Paul Mainwaring at the Mater hospital - Division of Medical Oncology(see earlier post). The scene in the waiting room there was a huge shock for me. There were50-60 people, most of whom were in advanced stages of intense cancer treatment using chemo therapy and were obviously very unwell. I was sitting there thinking:

"wow! this is the new me - Laurie Barram cancer victim. This peer group is a far cry from the gang that climb at Kangaroo Point on Wednesday evenings that I used to belong to only a few weeks ago..."

Then, the very next day I had an appointment with the Radiation Oncologist Dr David Schlect. Well, it was almost a repeat of the day before, with elderly, obviously very ill patients lining up in the waiting room for their daily radiation treatments.

For the first time, I started to get scared, very scared!!!

By the time I got to see Dr Schlect, I was a mess.

He simply said:

"How are you going?"

That was all it took to tip me over an emotional precipice and next thing I know I was crying like Bob Hawke and hugging Cheryl in desperation.

Luckily, Dr Schlect is used to this sort of thing and keeps a good supply of tissues in his office!

Once I could speak again we talked about what to do about my loss of emotional control and he gave me a referral to a psychiatrist friend of his, Dr Eric Delacey at the Toowong private hospital.

So I visited the "shrink"on 29 June and I must say that I was very disappointed to find out that Woody Allen has been conning us all these years because I can report that there was definitely no couch to be seen. Dr Delacey focused on determining which of three possibilities was causing my depression. Was it a) a normal reaction to having a life-threatening illness b) I had developed a depressive illness or c) due to damage to the right frontal lobe of my brain from the surgery. After I had no trouble with some tests for the latter, he decided that it was mainly just a normal reaction. Regardless what was causing it, he felt that a low dose of anti-depression medication would be the best way to deal with the problem and I was prescribed a half-dose (ie 30mg tablets) of a drug called Cymbalta

My emotional state has certainly settled down considerably now.