‘To love is to risk not being loved in return. To hope is to risk pain. To try is to risk failure, but risk must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing’ – Author Unknown
I have just come from reading a Post by Nolly Posh (aka Vicki @ http://nollyposh.blogspot.com/2011/07/nanoknife.html on the subject of IRE Nanoknife. Thank you Vicki; this has given me new hope. Apparently, this treatment, which can be performed on soft tissue cancers, is being utilised at the Alfred Hospital in Melbourne.
That in itself brings back memories. In March 1990 my late husband Raymond was admitted to the Alfred where he was diagnosed with a brain tumour. After more than 7 hours in surgery, his neurologist came out and broke the news. His words! 'This is very serious!' It was! At 48 years of age Ray was paralysed completely down the left side. At that time, we owned and operated, the Lakes Entrance Squash and Fitness Centre. Eldest son Damian was left in charge of the Centre, with help from a special friend Marianne Hocking. Jeremy, who was only 8, was 'off loaded' to an amazing family. The Allen family looked after him as one of their own. It is times like that you feel truly blessed to have such amazing friends.
Unfortunately, at that time it was determined that Ray also had a tumour on the lung. It was necessary for him to undergo intensive rehabilitation before he became a candidate to surgically remove the lesion on the lung. We were transported daily, by ambulance, from the Alfred to the Peter MacCallum Cancer Centre for Ray to undergo radiotherapy. The facilities were 'amazing' (there we go again with THAT word) in that they provided accommodation at all times which enabled me to be with Raymond 24/7. We were truly blessed to have a Cardio Thoracic Registrar on the ward that advised me to take Raymond home two weeks post op. Fortunately, he recognised that Ray was at risk of depression which could possibly have kept him there for an extended period of time. I remember the fear I felt as we left the hospital. Ray was only just out of the wheelchair. I need not have worried. As we drove through the Latrobe Valley, heading for Lakes Entrance, we stopped for coffee. From that moment Ray's condition improved. We were going home, after 18 weeks. The family would be waiting; we would be together again.
This post did not quite go in the direction in which I intended, however, it does give you a little more insight into my 'decision making' process. Either Ray or I have been on the 'cancer' journey since 1978. He lost his battle in 1994. I had a melanoma removed in 1996. With the exception of 2 years, either he or I have had cancer. I don't see,, or hear the fat lady
Tomorrow, I will be ringing my Breast Care co-ordinator to relay this latest information, in the belief that I will be well informed. Better able to make decisions that will do more good than harm. There has to be a way than chemotherapy.