Aftermath

So, I went along to Oxford yesterday. It's quite a drive out there, and we got a little lost coming back, and I've been told any further treatment or tests will need to be done there. A little inconvenient, but necessary.

That being said, my trips there should be limited to about once every 3 months or so. For the next 5 years. Read on..

We got there on time, and Megan and I headed in while my mum found a parking place. The building was huge, and was just one of many. Oxford hospitals is a very, very large place. We found a map and found the route to the cancer/haemotology ward pretty quickly, then talked to the receptionist there and took a seat. There were 4 waiting areas just for this one ward, and scribbled on a whiteboard in black marker was the following:

DR NICUM - 40 MINS WAIT
DR SOMETHING - 60 MINS WAIT
DR SOMETHING ELSE - 70 MINS WAIT

I didn't actually know my doctor's name. I didn't catch it in the phone-call originally, nor when I signed in at reception. I was however pretty sure it was none of the three on the whiteboard. Still, we got ready to wait a while.

After a while, Megan noticed we were the youngest people in the entire waiting area. Apparently, despite being very common in men aged 20-35, testicular cancer wasn't too common that day. Most of the other patients were 60+, with a few middle-aged people here and there.

Mum eventually found a place and managed to find the ward too, and then thankfully a few minutes later I was called in. Not sure why we didn't have to wait 40+ minutes (the board was updated while we were waiting, another 20 minutes or so added onto each number), but I wasn't about to complain. I went in alone.

I was weighed and measured.. for some reason, then asked if I came in alone. I told the nurse who was with me, but decided to speak to the doctor alone. I'd done that for all the talks so far, why not continue the same way? I was then lead into a small doctor's office and told to wait.

While waiting in this small, no windowed room, I kept my mind busy by thinking of ways to defend myself against the possibility of a shambling zombie stumbling into the room. Eventually I decided a chair would be the best defensive weapon, and then the doctor came in. He moved too fast to be a zombie, so that train of thought ended there.

He introduced himself, but I still didn't catch the name. Something starting with P, I think. We talked for a bit, about my case and how it all happened, he took some notes about my circumstances and my health, and asked if I knew why I'd been referred. I told him I didn't know, but that I knew my markers had gone down, and as he started to explain, a nurse interrupted and he had to go take a phone-call. He apologized, but was still gone for about 10 minutes. Thankfully no zombies attacked during that time, either.

When he returned he told me all patients in my situation are referred to Oxford for further tests, treatment and general information, as they are the main cancer body for this entire area of the UK. Milton Keynes is somewhere in the middle, sometimes being referred to Northampton, other times Oxford, but he assured me it should always be Oxford and nobody should be referring patients to Northampton anymore.

He then told me about the tumour that was removed. It was a roughly 3cm large sphere, which is apparently pretty small. It did contain several types of cancer, a lot of seminoma, some infant stage teratoma, and also some embryonal carcinoma. Yum.

He gave me some figures - due to the types of cancer, the lack of spreading shown on the CT scan and the dropped tumour markers, 95% of men in my situation are fine and don't need any further treatment. I have a low chance of the cancer coming back, and if it does, the odds that my remaining testes will be affected is even lower. He did tell me however, that Oxford are going to go over all the results of the tests Milton Keynes did, and if they feel there is something amiss, I may get another call. The chances of that are "less than 5%", though.

So, what happens now? Well, I have to go back in 6 weeks (28th November) for another blood test (AWESOME) and a chest x-ray. So that'll be fun. And the likelihood is that I will have another CT scan around January. And every 3 months after that. For 5 years.

What does that mean for me? Well, obviously if I leave the country again, I lose my free-CT-scan card. So we'll just have to take it one step at a time. If I can get another scan just before I leave, at least it'll give me a few months to get enough funds to start taking care of myself out there. And while USA CT scans are hella expensive, blood tests and x-rays aren't quite as bad, and hopefully I can get a job with health insurance.

After I was finished with the doctor, he sent in one of their cancer support nurses. She went over a few basic problems men like me have, and then gave me a checksheet with a bunch of help topics in them, such as cancer and dieting, infertility worries, depression, all sorts of problems or worries men get while going through this sort of thing. I checked a few and she said they'd send some information through the mail, and also gave me a website that I can check out at my leisure. I haven't had a chance to do that yet, but hopefully I'll have time soon.

But all that is a worry for another day. I am officially cancer free - for now. As soon as I shake the last remnants of this annoying cold, it'll be time to start doing things again.

That being said, my mother is going under the knife tomorrow for an operation to do with the veins in her legs. I won't go into detail, but it's something that's been plaguing her since she was younger than I am now, so if anyone is still sending me well wishes, I'd appreciate if they could send them her way instead.

So, I think that's about it, for now. I'll keep this blog updated when.. or if, anything happens. If all goes well, the next update will be at the end of November, when I head back to Oxford, but who knows what might happen.

Well, at least if the thing that happens is zombies, I'll be prepared.