Later, Helen and [...]]]> After the physicality of the previous couple of days we really did take it easy on our last day. In the morning we paid a trip to the US consulate to have a document notarized. Our US passports leapfrogged us to the front of all lines/queues so it didn’t take too long.

Later, Helen and I took the free bus around town to kill a bit of time. We got off near Chinatown for a cup of coffee.

Later in the afternoon/evening we met up with Brian who was working in Sydney. He took us up to the O Bar, a rotating bar/restaurant with fantastic sunset views of the city. We then visited a couple more of Brian’s favourite haunts in the city before retiring around 1am.

Saturday’s trip to Hong Kong was straight forward. City to Airport Transportation at each end is polished so there was little struggle.

We’re now well rested and ready for our first day out.

Looking back it’s hard to imagine we really went through the last 7 months in Australia and that we have now left the country. For now, it’s holiday mode. We’re going to focus on enjoying this break.

We’ve both been focussing on clearing our plates before leaving our home for the last 7 months. We aimed for being finished by Thursday but it took until Saturday morning. We made it though and now we can [...]]]> I feel as though I should have blogged again before now but we’ve been a bit busy.

We’ve both been focussing on clearing our plates before leaving our home for the last 7 months. We aimed for being finished by Thursday but it took until Saturday morning. We made it though and now we can enjoy the next couple of weeks without worrying about admin or chores.

We did have some fun. On Friday evening when we went out with the family to watch a couple of Australian Open matches. Despite both being one sided it was a great evening out. A great buzz in the atmosphere.

On Saturday we left home and the family. It was another of those moments of mixed emotion.

There was a very strong parallel to setting sail on a long passage from a place we’ve grown to love. The best example was when we left Fiji after 5 months there. The moment of departure is sad but as the island disappears over the horizon and our faces point to our destination there is a sense of exhilaration as life moves on to new unknowns and exciting things.

We also feel like we’re going on holiday.

We’ve spent the last couple of nights with our friends Brian and Janine before we catch the plane to Sydney. The first night we joined Janine’s mum and brother for pizza. Yesterday we were out for a walk and had an Ozzie barbie. Pleasant company throughout.

Then it’s off to Hong Kong and South Africa. We’re looking forward to every moment.

Sarah took Helen and I [...]]]> I did have every intention to blog after getting back home yesterday but it turned out I couldn’t. I needed time to settle down and I felt writing at any point in time yesterday would be pointless as I would feel different by the end of the first paragraph.

Sarah took Helen and I to the clinic for our appointment with Prof Opat, our haematology consultant. We were really pleased Sarah was with us as she was there right from the beginning and played a huge part in making things happen and, of course, the care and support given in the months since. Having her there at the point where we would learn if the circle had closed or the round 1 fight had to carry on was so important for all of us.

We were the Profs last appointment of the session so while we ended up being delayed for the appointment, we had as much time with him as we needed.

At first it was a little confusing. The MRI specialists had made their interpretation of last Friday’s scan not knowing I’d had extensive radiotherapy. They’d observed regions in my brain which they felt consistent with a possible continuance of the disease. Coupled with my communications over the weekend due to my really bad headache on Saturday the Prof had been quite concerned. Behind the scenes there had been a lot of communications Tuesday morning resulting in a completely different conclusion. The images were entirely consistent with scarring from the radio therapy. Coupled with the fact that the scans taken after I was given the contrast agent (which lights up cancer cells) showed no areas lighting up, there was in fact no evidence of disease.

Knowing that we like full disclosure we got the whole story and in there somewhere the words complete remission were said. By now my mind and emotions were beginning to race and it was a bit of a struggle to stay focussed.

But there was still a lot to talk about. We discussed the last couple weeks and how I’ve been feeling. It’s all totally consistent with after effects of chemo and there’s nothing to worry about.

We spent a lot of time going through records. He wrote his final referral to David Linch and sent it to his PA there and then. Carmen, his PA, came in with a bunch of CDs containing thousands of images from my many scans along the way. Lot’s more. We even had a brief chat about our past journey on the boat.

Once we got to the end of this, which is so important for round 2 of this fight, I went back to basics. I asked the professor if I was in complete remission. He knows I like info so he talked about the standards for clinical trials requiring no evidence of anything to use the term complete remission. So I asked him if, based on the definition of “no evidence of disease”, I was in complete remission. He said yes. Helen and I looked at each other and I for one found it incredibly difficult to stand in front of the wall of emotion now piling up inside of me at an alarming rate.

We soon parted. We both gave the Prof our profound thanks and a hug. Helen went back out to where Sarah was waiting. I went to see Carmen to cover a few loose ends about who was doing what with the records transfer, particularly with the Peter Mac institute who handled my RT. After this I thanked her and gave her a hug. At this point I lost my battle with the building wall of emotion. I needed an extra couple of minutes to pull myself together before going out to Helen and Sarah. More hugs. I lost it again.

Ok, so what does one do when you’ve learned you’ve just won round 1 of the battle of (should I say “for”) ones life. There’s only one possible answer. We visited the street where the outdoor filming takes place for Neighbours. It was pretty meaningless for me but Helen used to watch the show many years ago and we’d meant to do this for a long time. I was disappointed not to see Kylie who of course would not be there. And not because I’m a fan. I was thinking more about Martin Clunes obsession with her in Men Behaving Badly. Some of you will know what I mean.

When I first thought of writing about this aspect of yesterday I thought of it more as a joke. Now, on reflection, I think it was so important to do something simply normal. Life has been far from it for so long that to do something representative of our new future so soon helped a lot. My mind at the time was still simply everywhere. Sometimes on a different plane. Sometimes awash with emotion. It’s still quite hard to really describe how I was feeling. There was some elation but not a lot. A huge amount of relief. If gratitude can describe an emotion I had tons of that. For how else can you feel when you’ve been given the gift of life. I’ve mentioned before who I’m grateful to so I won’t do so again. You all know who you are and I don’t want to dilute the message by going through it again.

But it did feel as if an emotional bomb, or perhaps a Tsunami, had gone off. I was pretty sure there would be emotion, regardless of the result given, but had no idea of the intensity.

I did miss out on the fact we stopped for lunch at a nearby photo art museum and perused the exhibits. The pics were nice but being on my emotional roller coaster I don’t think I really saw much of what I looked at. But again it was good because it was normal. We took a short walk outside the museum. Sarah took a great picture of Helen and I, taken within an hour of leaving the clinic.

On the way home from where Kylie doesn’t hang out for old time’s sake, we stopped off at the nearby Dan Murphy’s and bought a bottle of Champagne. We’d decided what we really wanted to do was stay home with Russ, Sarah, Jack and Ros, our family, who have carried us so far for so long. We drank the bubbly of course and a couple or three beers. My week long abstinence be damned.

In fact I was still on an emotional roller coaster which was failing frequently from all the personal messages we were receiving. I tried my best to answer every one and as many of the blog message one to one as I could. Sorry if I didn’t get to you.

Along this long road the messages of support from everyone has been a rock. Be it personal contact, calls, emails, e-chats, blog posts, communicated prayers, FB comments/likes. It’s all important. We have received so many messages of support from my family, blog and Facebook announcements it’s been profoundly emotional. I was particularly moved by having a Google+ chat with son Ben from work when I know he barely has a moment to scratch his bum. I thank you all. When we felt despair or were lost in the woods, your messages of support helped keep us moving even if we didn’t know where we were heading.

I’m truly sorry for not being available for Skype. I really wanted to. But behind the wall of a screen my emotions were running high with every message received. Without being able to make physical contact I was not ready for the intimacy of video.

My own lesson in all this is that most people, perhaps all, no matter how strong they appear need this communication to help them through the toughest times in their lives. The more personal the communication the better but it all works. I vow to do better for all the friends I know who are fighting tough battles.

So we’ve won round 1. All of us involved. We’ve looked fate in the eye and spat in it. We’ve achieved that magical, dreamed for stamp on the forehead “Complete Remission”.

But the facts are the facts. There is no evidence of disease. But one shipwrecked cancer cell left washed up in a corner of my body pulling in scraps of sustenance, struggling for it’s own existence as all life does, will not show in an MRI. But if one is there somewhere it and all it’s fissioned offspring will kill me if they can. So the next two years are critical. Close monitoring and the best possible medical response ready to roll is the best way to get through this next period. If nothing shows in two years we might just allow ourselves to use the expression “Cured”. The next milestone, I declare, is therefore Dec 31, 2014. I already have a strong idea of where I want to be.

Till then I will live my life as if I’m going to live forever but run my “insurance policy” as if I live on a street full of arsonists.

The good news is that this is now all pretty much set up bar some detail I must get on with.

This morning we woke to a new day. What a wonderful feeling.

After a few days of rest I’m feeling [...]]]> The last few days have been mainly R&R. In hindsight I realize I’ve really overdone it recently. I finished 6 months of brutal treatment and felt like superman. Acting like superman, so to speak, was not the best thing to do. My body eventually told me so.

After a few days of rest I’m feeling quite a bit better but not as good as I’d like. It’s all a learning experience. I must confess my mind did drift to alternate explanations for my condition. I didn’t like it.

There is a common condition called cancer fatigue. What I have been feeling seems to fit the description. It’s common and comes with a lot of guidelines. I’m following them.

This morning I had my final MRI. 90 minutes in the machine is a long time but they had a lot to scan. It’s now the evening and there’s been no calls from the hospital. That, if I may use a macabre expression, puts a nail in the coffin of my worst fears. Next Tuesday we see my senior consultant here and get to learn the full results.

More good news in that the PAs of the various Profs are now chatting about my medical records. Hopefully this will progress without complication. We also managed to pick up a digital copy of my first MRI from last June – the one that triggered my emergency input into the Australian hospital system. They all came on a DVD complete with software to view them. It’s a strange thing seeing the inside of your own head.