On Sunday I completed a five mile walk that included one of Lakeland's lesser summits. I think I probably overdid it a bit. We did complete the last section up hill from Cockermouth town centre to home in a taxi. But despite that I am pleased with what I accomplished,
Before setting off I was anything but sure I would get all the way to the summit which is 254m high. I was surprised how well my legs felt. I certainly walked a lot slower than I used to do but I didn't find the ascent at all taxing. It was only on the final couple of hundred metres that I began to tire. The sight of the summit spurred me on until we reached it.
I should have been overjoyed at having accomplished this, my first fell walk since discovering that I had a brain tumour. But my happiness was marred by the discovery that one problem that has occurred since my treatment does not appear to be going away. My sense of balance is hopeless.
I am like a toddler who has just learned to walk but hasn't completely mastered it. Except I am rather a large toddler. Although I manage to avoid falling over with the help of my walking stick I panic when I have to negotiate uneven ground, and usually need Olga's hand for additional support. Two walking sticks might help, though I have always preferred to keep one hand free and regard an additional stick as an encumbrance.
I think I have heard others who have had brain surgery and radiotherapy mention balance problems. It may be an effect of the radiotherapy as I don't recall having a balance problem in my first weeks of recovery. I have mentioned it to my oncologist and he asks me about it but doesn't pass any further comment. I am afraid that some part of my brain has been irreparably damaged and that no matter how well my fitness may improve I will never be rid of this problem.
14 May - My 60th Birthday
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| Olga and I on my 60th birthday |
11 May - DVLA replies
After my last appointment with my consultant oncologist, who seemed satisfied that I would be able to drive, I wrote to the DVLA (Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency) enclosing the completed forms that they had sent me after my earlier enquiry several months ago to reapply for my driving license. Today I received a reply.
The reply said that they had written to my consultant and expected a reply "within six weeks." The rest of the letter seemed designed to prepare me to wait a long time. Their enquiries "can take some time to complete" it said. The rest of the letter could be summed up as "don't contact us, we will contact you."
Only in my wildest dreams did I expect the letter would contain a new driving license. But the knowledge that I will need to wait weeks before I get any nearer to getting back on the road is quite depressing.
The reply said that they had written to my consultant and expected a reply "within six weeks." The rest of the letter seemed designed to prepare me to wait a long time. Their enquiries "can take some time to complete" it said. The rest of the letter could be summed up as "don't contact us, we will contact you."
Only in my wildest dreams did I expect the letter would contain a new driving license. But the knowledge that I will need to wait weeks before I get any nearer to getting back on the road is quite depressing.
22 April - A slight decrease
Today we went for a consultation with the oncologist - the one I should have had a month ago. After the usual enquiries as to how I was he told us that the last scan showed 'a slight decrease' in the size of what's left of my tumour. This is obviously better than an increase, so it appears we have it under control for the moment.
Because of the type of tumour that it is, it can never all be removed - I can never be cured. When asked whether it could grow back we were told it could, but it is not possible to predict what would happen. The longest anyone has survived a glioblastoma multiforme grade 4 in our oncologist's direct experience is 8 years. It goes without saying that I hope I can beat that.
The doctor thinks I can apply to the DVLA to have my driving licence back. I'm not celebrating until I'm holding it in my sticky mitt.
Our next appointment is for three months' time after which I will have another MRI scan.
Because of the type of tumour that it is, it can never all be removed - I can never be cured. When asked whether it could grow back we were told it could, but it is not possible to predict what would happen. The longest anyone has survived a glioblastoma multiforme grade 4 in our oncologist's direct experience is 8 years. It goes without saying that I hope I can beat that.
The doctor thinks I can apply to the DVLA to have my driving licence back. I'm not celebrating until I'm holding it in my sticky mitt.
Our next appointment is for three months' time after which I will have another MRI scan.
12 April - Decisions, decisions
Today we had an appointment to see the surgeon about my gall bladder operation. Actually, we saw his assistant. We arrived half an hour early for the appointment but ended up being late as the disinterested receptionist didn't bother to tell us where to wait. We waited in the hospital reception area which I thought was a bit odd. It turned out to be the wrong place.
Eventually a nurse found us. We saw the surgeon's assistant who told us that the MRI scan showed no gallstones blocking my bile duct. This was not too much of a surprise as I had felt okay on the day of the scan. It was therefore up to me whether to have the gall bladder removed or not. Given that I had experienced several recurrences of gallstone pain I opted to have it out. So I am now on the waiting list. The doctor couldn't tell us how long that would be, but I could change my mind about having the op at any time up to the day of the appointment.
But there is a complication. One of my scans to look at my gall bladder had revealed a cyst on a kidney. So I have an appointment to see another specialist at the end of May about that. (Perhaps I should worry about that as my brain tumour started off as a possible cyst.) It was suggested that we should wait until after the other consultation because it would be possible to see to both things at the same time which would avoid the need to be anesthetised twice. So I can forget about operations until after my 60th birthday, which is a bit of a relief.
My next hospital appointment is the rearranged meeting with the oncologist to discuss the plan for monitoring my brain tumour and whether I can apply to have my driving licence back.
Eventually a nurse found us. We saw the surgeon's assistant who told us that the MRI scan showed no gallstones blocking my bile duct. This was not too much of a surprise as I had felt okay on the day of the scan. It was therefore up to me whether to have the gall bladder removed or not. Given that I had experienced several recurrences of gallstone pain I opted to have it out. So I am now on the waiting list. The doctor couldn't tell us how long that would be, but I could change my mind about having the op at any time up to the day of the appointment.
But there is a complication. One of my scans to look at my gall bladder had revealed a cyst on a kidney. So I have an appointment to see another specialist at the end of May about that. (Perhaps I should worry about that as my brain tumour started off as a possible cyst.) It was suggested that we should wait until after the other consultation because it would be possible to see to both things at the same time which would avoid the need to be anesthetised twice. So I can forget about operations until after my 60th birthday, which is a bit of a relief.
My next hospital appointment is the rearranged meeting with the oncologist to discuss the plan for monitoring my brain tumour and whether I can apply to have my driving licence back.
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