DAY 271 – The Tears of Relief

7th December 2011

It’s been quite some time since I updated my blog. Well, there hasn’t been much news lately. I was given some time off from everything regarding my treatment. My body was supposed to stabilise and recover, at least partially. It may take awhile until I have regained as much energy as I had before, but for the sake of scanning, I was ready to go.

Today, I underwent my final PET CT. As soon as I arrived, the doctor started explaining me what it’d be all about. I interrupted him saying “I was here before, today, I came only to confirm that I am healthy again.” He smiled and we proceeded to the scanning. The whole process took 3 hours and when I was finished I grabbed my clothes and went to wait outside. He walked briskly out of the door saying words that will be etched on my memory for a long time: “Well, you were right, yes, you are now a healthy man. You are free to go.” This sentence is a kick-start to my life as a healthy man. The second I left the building, I immediately burst into tears, but those tears were tears of immense relief. Everything I had gone through over the past 10 months just flashed through my mind. I sent dozens of messages to my closest letting them know that “tomo is back in business!!!”

My friend Molly made me realize that it is all about the power of the mind. She is right. I don’t have to elaborate on this, positive mind is the cornerstone of every success !

Thanks everybody concerned for the support, I love you.

Your tomo



DAY 200 - the end of the tunnel?

26th August 2011

Today marks the 200th day since I first noticed my swollen lymph node on my neck. I cringe to think about it.
It is over. My last visit to hospital according to the schedule. I need to take a rest from hospital now, and I will go for a PET CT in 2-3 months.

I feel good, my health and immunity is back. Let's enjoy life to the fullest !

THANK YOU everybody who supported me. I really do appreciate that more than you may think...
The power of the mind is the real cure.
Chin up! Life is too short to quarrel and waste our time over venialities...
And don't take your health for granted...


DAY 199 – The 80/20 rule not off-beam this time either


25th August 2011

The rule 80/20 seems to hold true. And I am going to tell you why. I have already undergone chemotherapy which is the lynchpin of my whole treatment and the radiotherapy (which is now underway) is supposed to be sort of a safety catch that ensures the successful finish. So, the 20% of the treatment is being done now, but the pain felt accounts for 80% of the suffering over the past 5 months.

First things first, the radiotherapy has been going fine. I have my last day scheduled tomorrow finally. Regarding the technical issues, I tried to delve into how chemotherapy works, but after I saw the service room for the huge linear accelerator I stared in awe. It is simply unbelievable how it all works and for me hardly possible to explain the process it operates.

Alrite, this is what wikipedia has to say:
A linear particle accelerator is a type of particle accelerator that greatly increases the velocity of charged subatomic particles or ions by subjecting the charged particles to a series of oscillating electric potentials along a linear beamline.

I sincerely hope it is clearer now :)

At the beginning of the radiotherapy, I went for a number of entrance tests. The computers calculated the exact coordinates for the X-ray machine to be used. Here is one page, you will see only a tangle of meaningless (to me) numbers:


There were at least 12 such pages, and hey, these little numbers save lives after all!

Here is a sketch of the planned area to be X-rayed (the red mark):




As far as side effects, when I got asked how I felt, I said: Munch on a razor for 5 minutes, hit your tongue with a sledgehammer and take a lighter to burn your gums, ohh yeah, and swallow a couple of nails to properly irritate your throat. I have to gargle some smelly syrup and agrimony tea, as well, to prevent me from any possible inflammations in my mouth and throat.
Let's look on the bright side, my blood cells reading has become normal finally - immunity restored! 

DAY 179 - At the mercy of machinery

5th August, 2011: Phase 2 is underway – radiotherapy.

I came back from hospital where I underwent a series of entrance tests in order to pinpoint exact locations that need to be X-rayed. Yes, radiotherapy in oncology is based on X-rays that are aimed at the malignant cells and these are more susceptible to death than healthy ones.

The image below shows the exact machine used for my radiotherapy in my hometown. Beams it emits are targeted at the cancerous zones from different angles and can be millimeter precise. Mind boggles at how the technology has advanced over the past few years.



My schedule is following: I am getting a dosage every morning in the next three weeks. Every Tuesday is also a check-up day for blood tests and a CT scan to see how the treatment is progressing.

As far as side effects are concerned, it should be less upsetting than when I had chemotherapy. Since the beams go through healthy tissue, it will get hurt, too - mainly my skin and my throat, so swallowing hard food will be a little problem after two weeks. But, so far so good. I was given syrup to gargle to protect my mucosae and also pills with Vitamin B5 (Pantothenic acid) to shore up my skin and blood.

DAY 167 – Phase 1 check, Phase 2 on the way

24th July 2011 – It is a quiet Sunday afternoon as I decided to write down what is going on. Obvious from my previous post, the chemo is over. I went for a CT scan and then, a week later, for another one. The second one was to pinpoint exactly where the radiotherapy should focus. I am doing all of this in my hometown.  I did not quite know what was going to happen, but pepped up by the success of the chemo, I boldly walked to hospital. Besides a quick CT scan, they also created a plastic perforated fixating mask for me – an exact shape of my head and upper torso – it is all to ensure I don’t move during the radiotherapy, as a centimeter missed might mean the X-rays will hit my brain and I don’t want that by any means.



The CT revealed that only 10% of the evil cells are left in my body. I wonder, is it a lot? Is it just fine? Gladly, it is considered success by my onc. OK, so what now I thought. Let’s do the radiotherapy before the malignant cells feel like spreading again. But I must wait now. Wait, what? Yup, I have to wait since the waiting list is not short. Well, I smiled and told the nurse to look up my diagnosis, I am being treated from cancer and cancer does not wait. A few moments later, it was clarified to me that all of the patients waiting for the radio are suffering from cancer, too. When you stop for a moment and think about it…hmmm….at least, I didn’t have to wait for the chemo and that’s the cornerstone of my treatment.

I am now awaiting a call from a doctor responsible for the radiotherapy to schedule my further treatment. Let’s wait then…

In the meantime, let's paint the town red ! :) 

DAY 152 - One swallow DOES make a summer !

9th July 2011 – To sum up the last days: OK, so, my chemotherapy is finally over. The 8 scheduled chemos ended a couple of days ago. In fact, I felt quite a relief when I was leaving the chemo department – but I will never forget the smell, the atmosphere, the people and their stories I had heard– all of that will remain engraved in my memory. They left me some two weeks to rest after the last dose.
By the way, this is how the chemo dose looks like (ABVD, approximately 1.7 litres of it each time = that’s around 14 litres of ABVD over the past 3 months, poor Hodgkin – it serves him right!)



After those two weeks, I went for a CT scan. And what about the results? More than 90% of the malignant cells have disappeared. Well, it is not 100%, but anyway, it is still an excellent result as I was told. The rest of it will be killed off during the radiotherapy which is due to start next week. To be more specific, a small number of enlarged lymphatic nodes remain near my lungs and in my neck, but the CT scan is unable to determine their activity, so it might be the case that the Hodge disappeared completely already. In technical terms, on average one malignant cell is boxed in by hundred healthy cells, which are way more difficult to kill (which is good though). So, the CT scan showed the clusters. We’ll see how the radiotherapy goes. I am supposed to get 20 dosages in the following days – that will also have a couple of negative side effects which I will describe on my blog, too.

DAY 126 - There's many a slip twixt the cup and the lip

June 13th 2011 – Well well, seven chemos down, the eight one is due in two days. Not much new with me, my hair is still holding up and my appetite is not fizzling out :)

I should go for a CT scan by the end of June – a big day for me.

DAY 101 - the fight goes on

DAY 101 -19th May 2011

Back from my fifth chemo. Last time was quite usual – slight nausea and crazy taste buds. Later on, I got another round of filgrastim shots that had me paralyzed again.

Yesterday, I underwent my sixth chemo. Each time I come across different life stories I overhear at hospital. One wouldn’t believe what some people are going through. Unfortunately, life can be tough sometimes.

I must share two positive moments: First of all, I am still being asked by the hospital staff, whether I am there only for a general check-up, since I look healthy. My answer is that, well, actually, I am being treated from cancer, that’s far from a regular check-up :) Secondly, my hair is still resisting receding, despite the fact that I was told I would end up almost bald 2-3 weeks after the commencement of the treatment. Two and half months are gone, but nothing happens, which is good.

I recorded a video of me playing drums, I would like to use this as a sort of a reference video showing what a person in the middle of chemotherapy looks like. It just flies directly in the face of what I had thought about chemotherapy before my first journey to the Oncology Center. Here you go:

All in all, there are two more chemos scheduled for me. I am also going to get a CT scan in June in order to evaluate the whole treatment. I am also about to undergo radiotherapy supposedly in July. I should probably say that I hope everything goes just fine. Over the last three months, I have started to hate the word "hope" as it is oftentimes associated with cancerous diseases. Screw that, I am going to be cured successfully, there's no hope, there's no cancer anymore for me in the future ! In case there is, I am gonna kill it off again!

DAY 72 – first half down !

Alright! The first half of my scheduled chemotherapy is down. I say “scheduled” because I will soon undergo another PET scan and the next steps of the treatment will be decided by my onc. To be honest, I have always thought of people going thru chemotherapy as rather visibly devastated. I couldn’t be farther from the truth, since I can happily say that, at the moment, I am feeling the best over the past two months. My skin problems are fading away, I have enough energy to play my drums as before and rather surprisingly, my hair is still holding up pretty well. I experience, at times, a weird feeling around my heart. Hard to explain, it does not hurt, but when I have that feeling, I just know that my heart is working and it makes me think of it all the time, so to speak. Maybe it is just my subconscious, which is kind enough to remind me that I am not as healthy as my family and friends, but on the other hand, my consciousness says that is it is not that bad – I am getting the best treatment possible. I am a pragmatic guy (sometimes, even too much, I know), so the knowledge that the Hodgkin’s lymphoma is one of the most easily curable cancers, keeps my chin up. Next week, I am getting another round of three filgrastim shots to boost production of my white blood cells so that I am more immune against any possible infections - better safe that sorry !

Here's a thought - a quote from Paulo Coelho's book "The Alchemist":

“When each day is the same as the next, it’s because people fail to recognize the good things that happen in their lives every day that the sun rises.”

...very true indeed...

DAY 58 - Let’s look on the bright side

6th April – My third chemo is over. Usual side effects – slight nausea, dizziness, fatigue. I have come to realize that cancerous diseases are not the same – I mean, obviously, they are not, as we know many categories and these days one is spoiled for choice, sadly. The real experience of listening to people who suffer from cancer is a different kettle of fish. I had no idea whatsoever how life can be unpredictable.  It is very hard to explain in plain words. At the beginning, it was a big slap on my face,but as the time goes on, I realize that I should be glad for every positive aspect – the most important one at the moment is that the Hodgkin’s lymphoma is very treatable. I am smiling as I am writing this, because the next time I walk out of the hospital, I’ll be half-way through my scheduled treatment.

DAY 53 - I tried to make no bones, but…

1st April, 2011: Let me explain the title. Since the chemotherapy kills off not only the bad cells but also the good ones, it should be taken care of somehow. My blood is taken before each chemo in order to determine the level of my blood cells. Rather expectedly, the count of my white blood cells dropped. So, to shore up my immune system, something has to be done! My onc prescribed me a package of five injections for self-administration. These are supposed to stimulate the bone marrow to increase production of white blood cells, specifically neutrophils.  To be precise, I am being given “filgrastim” that is specifically a granulocyte colony-stimulating factor. My mind boggles at the way some cures are created these days. Wiki says that filgrastim is produced by recombinant DNA technology. The gene for human granulocyte colony-stimulating factor is inserted into the genetic material of Escherichia coli (bacterium that is commonly found in the lower intestine of warm-blooded organisms). The G-CSF then produced by E. coli  is only slightly different from G-CSF naturally made in humans. Pretty self-explaining, isn’t it? :)




But what about any side effects? I know, production of some blood cells sounds fairly innocuous. I was told to have it injected four days in a row, so I went to see my uncle at hospital whose nurse was kind enough to administer the shots. It was in the morning, so I went home. The next day was my second shot. As my dad was driving me home, I felt a weird pain in the small of my back. I said to myself that if that was the expected side effect, it was then gonna be a cakewalk. Sadly though, I was wrong. For the rest of the day, I remained in bed begging for painkillers which I declined in the morning, since the pain was only minor. I would describe the pain as racking and paralyzing. At the heart rate, I was getting pulses throughout my body that originated in around my pelvises. I was not able to utter a single sentence. I don’t mean to scare anybody who is going thru a similar treatment. But the idea of procuring some painkillers beforehand does not come amiss at all :) They helped me then. The second round didn’t but I am alive. The third day went normally, so did the fourth. I am getting the fifth one in two weeks. Can't wait :)

DAY 47: ABVD – "a necessary evil"


ABVD is almost always given as an out-patient regimen.  Speaking from my experience, I am being treated at an out-patient cancer department. I usually spend 90-120 minutes there – once in two weeks. I take the liberty of calling it “necessary evil” because along the cancerous cells it kills off the good ones, too.

 Before each chemo, I visit my oncologist who makes out a prescription which I bring to a pharmacy department – the order is filled here and the dose of my chemo is prepared (takes around half an hour).

ABVD is an abbreviation of four drugs: Adriamycin, Bleomycin, Vinblastine, and Dacarbazine that are given to me to help me throw off the Hodgkin's lymphoma.

So, let's take a closer look at each of them:

ADRIAMYCIN – the orange/red drug that is usually given first. I am given approximately 3.5 dl of it each time. It slowly flows into my veins. As far as I know, it hits the darned Hodge the hardest. The lymphatic cancer is not the only one that is treated with adriamycin. Many others use it and it is often called “The Red Devil” (no wonder!). This little devil causes nausea, hair loss and potential heart problems – depending on the dosage. Less acute, it turns one’s urine orange/red – so don’t freak out when you first see it :)

BLEOMYCIN – comes out in a syringe and the liquid is pushed slowly into the veins. It is transparent and it is known to cause pulmonary side effects – not right away, but down the road it can impair the function of the lungs. One’s reactions to chemo vary, some people get allergic reactions, some get fevers from Bleomycin. But in my case, so far so good.

VINBLASTINE – similar to Bleomycin in looks and administration. This one comes with an amazing story. Vinblastine was first isolated by Robert Noble (not to be confused with Alfred Nobel) and Charles Thomas Beer from the Madagascar periwinkle plant. Vinblastine's utility as a chemotherapeutic agent was first discovered when it was crushed into a tea. Consumption of the tea led to a decreased number of white blood cells, therefore, it was hypothesized that vinblastine might be effective against cancers of the white blood cells such as lymphoma. I do not know whether this discovery was a lucky coincidence, but it sure made many people’s lives easier.


DACARBAZINE – this one is a drip and it takes around one hour until it gets into my blood stream. It comes in two black bottles (one liter altogether) – to be protected from sunlight. The D is probably the one most likely to make you feel sick (highly emetogenic). It also causes sterility, immune suppression, headaches, fatigue etc.


A bit of eggheadism: Dacarbazine is a member of the class of alkylating agents, which destroy cancer cells by adding an alkyl group (CnH2n+1) to its DNA. So, the DNA of some of my cells is being changed, nice…I hope it will pay dividends.

  
Speaking of immediately visible side effects, I suffer from fatigue during the first 4-6 days after a dose. The next morning after chemo is probably the worst, but not as bad as many may think. People react differently, but I would liken my feeling to that of being hung over. I go out of my way to drink as much still bottled water as possible to help my body flush the evil cells out.


DAY 42 - the second chemo

…back from my second chemo. I am scheduled for 8 cycles, so there are 6 left. That means one fourth is over. That feels great. I really hope I will send the cancer packing! I also underwent EKG, heart sonography and tests of my lungs.

Fortunately, I am feeling way better than I did after the first chemo. I only experience very slight dizziness and that’s it. I have even been able to play my drums, but I try not to strain myself too much. I have just read an article about the chemo regimen that is given to me.  It is called ABVD – an abbreviation of four different chemicals. I will post some specific details. It is a kind of a strange feeling to see an orange liquid flowing into my veins, which I read is the most aggressive one. The others are transparent. They pumped 1.7 liters of it into my blood stream. I heard some patients even get 3 liters. Considering that the volume of blood in the human body is around 5 liters, 3 liters sounds like a lot, but the redundant liquid flows out of the system very quickly, while the effective chemicals are retained within the body.

I guess I haven’t fully realized yet that I am fighting such ugly disease. I don’t know. It’s the power of the mind. Maybe I can’t admit it. But the good thing is (that is helping me a lot) that besides the support from my family and friends, I was assigned a very friendly and nice doctor. The staff at hospital is very kind to everyone. At first, I was a bit scared, I’d expected only gloom and hopelessness, but nothing like that. Everything seems like a regular hospital and even the chemo isn’t a big deal, it’s like patients are in a line, and nurse calling “next”, so to speak.

DAY 29 - a bit of laugh

I had the first chemo 6 days ago, I was given pills to suppress potential sickness, but I have some side effects such as ringing in my ears, shaky hands (a bit), but generally I would say I am rather tired, a similar feeling to being hung over :) I have slept a lot over the past few days. But finally today, I rounded up some energy and played some Metallica on my drums :) And two days ago, my salivary glands started to act up. I read on the Internet that it might be one of the possible side effects of the chemo. I get a prickly feeling in the glands, even when I spot a bar of chocolate. The glands start to pump and it hurts, not much though, but it does hurt. And one more thing, I drank coca cola yesterday which tasted a bit unsavory to me, but my friend argued that the coke was just a regular and fresh coca cola, so I guess, my taste buds are goin’ a bit crazy, too. But the most annoying is the fatigue, and I feel like my head was going around. So, I rest a lot. Hopefully, it will get better soon. I have my next chemo in one week, so we’ll see how it goes then.

But the greatest thing is that my cough backed off totally right after the first chemo! (I have the tumor - man, I hate that word - in my neck and between my lungs which was causing very annoying and choking cough.) And also a number of painful and swollen nodes on my neck disappeared. Great!
Plus, I am taking pills against gout.

But two hours before the chemo on Tuesday, I underwent a bone marrow puncture. I have to say, I’d been a little afraid, because I’d heard it hurt a lot. But the nurse injected some funny liquid into my veins and I felt only little pressure inside my pelvis. Right after the doctor pulled out the drill (I believe it is called a trephine), I (even surprisingly to me) burst into enormous laughter :) The nurse was like, what? :)) As I couldn’t stop laughing, they laughed, too :) I was glad it ended up that way. I remember saying jokingly that “hey doc, do the other pelvis, too, it was fun” :) omg ! Within the next hour, the “funny feeling” fizzled out and I was good to go for the first chemo.

This is how the puncture looks like:



So, they are now supposed to analyze the bone marrow and find out the spread of the lymphoma. This makes me a little worried, but hopefully the results will be okay. I really do hope that I won’t need to undergo bone marrow transplantation, but I think it is done in the most extreme cases. I don’t know exactly, yet.

DAY 24 - The start of my treatment

March 3rd - Today was my very first day marking the beginning of my treatment. My dad and my uncle accompanied me. The big sign at the entrance to the hospital area: “National Oncology Institute” was a little scary and unsettling, but as soon as we entered the hospital my worries petered out, because it was just like an ordinary hospital. A nurse in my department sent me to have my blood taken – so they sucked some seven vials of blood out of me to find out chiefly about the levels of my white blood cells – generally what my immunity was like, I guess. Then I was introduced to my doctor who is a very nice and friendly guy. I am convinced that this is one of the most important aspects when being treated, since it creates a good atmosphere and it definitely shored up my optimism. 

For the record, they are about 200 cases of the Hodgkin’s lymphoma in Slovakia every year, from which my doctor treats around one half of those. We talked about everything, mainly about my upcoming chemotherapy which is scheduled in 5 days. He noted that they need to perform a bone marrow puncture before the chemotherapy to pinpoint exactly the spread of my disease. Ooops, I am definitely not looking forward to it, but on the other hand, they know what they are doing and if it is necessary for a successful treatment, then chin up and let’s do it.

DAY 23 - the most important ones

Tomorrow is my very first visit to the National Oncology Center in Slovakia (still the name scares me a lot). Let me thank MY FAMILY, MY GIRLFRIEND and MY FRIENDS for a great deal of support.  I love you all! Last but not least, METALLICA and MY DRUMS are keeping me sane and making me look forward to the future and all the things that are awaiting me. All of you tilt the scales of my hopes to the positive side…and I am grateful for that.

DAY 21 - officially confirmed...

It was Monday. I was supposed to go to see my hematologist to get the official diagnosis. Before the appointment, I simply knew everything what I was going to be told. I knew my diagnosis, I knew what the treatment would look like, I knew approximately how long it would take and what possible side effects it might have and so on. I tried to stay calm and think positively. The doctor had me sit in a chair and as it is seen in many movies, the doctor had to break the diagnosis to me. But I knew what it was going to be, but despite that, when she said: “So, Sir, you are sick.” it was like a big slap on my face. We talked about the upcoming treatment in the capital of Slovakia. (100km away from me) Of course, the talk about the chemotherapy, all possible side effects and all restrictions did not leave me cold. In the deepest spot in my mind, I was still hoping that all of that was just a bad dream. Constant emergence of questions such as: why me? how? when? why?? and again why?? I am 22 and I am supposed to be playing my drums at home, but not being at hospital as an onco-patient. Oh, my… 

But, I guess, life is about this, too. It can’t be rosy forever. Ebbs and flows, ebbs and flows…

DAY 20 – Here we go

It was a quiet Sunday. My phone rang in the afternoon and I picked it up. My uncle (the neurologist) had received unofficial results of the histology of the node. I was still hoping that he would take a load of my mind by telling me the whole trouble was a mere infection. In fact, it wasn’t. The pathologist had confirmed that the cause of the swollen node was a malignant tumor, to be specific, the Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

I am that type of a person, who always likes to know specific details about everything I deal with. This time, it was no exception. So, let me tell you a few words on this unwanted guest in my body.

Hodgkin's lymphoma, previously known as Hodgkin's disease, is a type of lymphoma, which is a cancer originating from white blood cells called lymphocytes. It was named after Thomas Hodgkin, who first described abnormalities in the lymph system in 1832 and drew a line between infections and this tumorous disease. Hodgkin's lymphoma is characterized by the orderly spread of disease from one lymph node group to another and by the development of systemic symptoms with advanced disease. Interestingly, the disease occurrence shows two peaks: the first in young adulthood (age 15–35) and the second in those over 55 years old – no one knows WHY. 

Also the disease tends to afflict more men than women (65:35).
This specific kind of lymphoma is rather rare when compared to other types of cancers of the lymphatic system (only 15%, the others are called “non-hodgkin’s lymphomas”). Despite the low occurrence (around 62,000 people worldwide annually) the treatment success is fairly high, but is strongly correlated with the state of health of the particular patient. 

There are generally four possible stages of the spread of the disease:
1. involvement of a single lymph node region (mostly around neck)
2. involvement of two or more lymph node regions (my case: neck and around lungs, to be specific, the regions up from the diaphragm)
3. involvement of the whole lymphatic system in the body
4. involvement of the whole lymphatic system plus other extralymphatic organs are afflicted (spleen, liver, lungs) – still curable

Generally, such a serious disease does not crop up in a day. My body signaled that something was wrong  – some symptoms may or may not be relevant. Nobody can confirm or refute whether it had anything to do with the lymphoma. This is what I experienced prior to my first visit to my GP:

1. back pain – nothing unusual for me, since I have always suffered from minor scoliosis

2. development of allergy (11 months before the visit) – first sign of a dysfunction of my immune system – considered not serious, since so many people suffer from allergies, my mom included

3. development of alopecia – gradual loss of hair on my legs along with receding eyebrows and also minor skin eczema. (considered related to the allergy – nothing serious)

4. stress – trading commodities is a bit stressful :)

5. occasional night sweats during Christmas – so what, I lowered the heater intensity (nothing serious)

6. another sign is considered an unexplained weight loss – in my case, I had lost around 13kg but over 16 months (nothing serious, because I would say, I came back to my “normal mode” of weighing around 80kg, as opposed to the previous Christmas when I had no limits relishing the great food during the holidays, plus I intensified my playing of the drums, so again, the loss of weigh was rather explained then unexplained)

7. final sign: the swollen lymph node, which I had never experienced before, so I went to see my GP.

I am sure that there is no way I could have gone to my GP any sooner than I did. Simply, just because you sweat or have allergy is absolutely no valid reason to be afraid of developing a tumor – at least not for laymen. I suppose, people who suffer from points 1-6 I described should not be scared of cancer. But I do urge you to see your GP if you can feel a swollen lymph node anywhere in your body. It is not worth sweet-talking yourself you can’t be struck down by any serious disease. I hate to say that, but anyone can. Nature does not pick and choose, you can be young/old, a boy or a girl etc… I can count on my fingers how many times I had flu in my life. I had no problems at all, never. But I wasn’t stubborn and went to hospital. The specialists were there to help me get the early treatment, which I began three days ago. Don’t wait till it is too late!

And a little sideswipe: PLEASE THINK TWICE WHEN CONSIDERING A VACCINATION!
One month before my health issues intensified (night sweat, basically four months before I went to see my GP about the lymph node) I had been inoculated against "tick-borne meningoencephalitis" (a rather usual vaccination in my country) - these vaccines almost always have a great number of possible side effects, one of which is a dysfunction of the lymphatic system! (considered rare, but the chance is still there, someone will catch it sooner or later, I may be one of the unlucky ones!) Please, ask yourselves a question: Can't I really go without the vaccination?

Many times, the vaccination is just a big game of the pharmaceutical companies that crank out half-baked pseudo-cures with one goal, which is to make money at the expense of possible deterioration of health of the general public. (Or the other way around, they come up with a serious disease that is likely to cause a pandemic so that they can be heroes by introducing the right cure) Think about it...e.g. the swine flu - billions of dollars wasted by local governments which hastily invested heavily in the vaccination - all in vain. The avian or bird flu - the same. And you know what, the same company produced the vaccine I had taken. Brilliant...isn't it?

DAY 17 – Let’s go home

A doctor took a look at the cut on my neck and decided I could go home. The wound seemed to be healing very well, so there was no need to stay any longer. My dad came to pick me up and I finally got home. What a feeling it was! …but in the deep recesses of my mind and soul, I knew it was just the beginning, but beginning of what? …I was to find out in four days…
Before I was released from hospital, my dad, in order to speed things up, took the lymph node and drove to hand it over to one of the most experienced pathologists in this field not only in Slovakia, as I'd heard. 

DAY 16 – Take the rough with the smooth

I have to express my absolute content with the surgery. Everything was great, but on the other hand, my stay in my ward was not that smooth. I do not want to seem to be grumbling like an old fart. Constant banging of the main door just prevented me from getting a minute of rest. But then the personnel was more cautious when I asked a nurse if I’d been really the only patient constantly bedeviled by the horrible sound. Now, I realize that, of all patients, I was the only one under 60 of age :) So, I guess the others just didn’t hear it or I honestly have no idea.
It is very much a known fact that I tend to care about what I eat.  I suppose, the nurses thought that I was unable to chew after the surgery so they kept ordering me only mushy food. I truly went out of my way to take it on the chin. Please, don’t want me to go into deeper details :)

I can’t go without mentioning one more thing at hospital, which, frankly, took me aback. Everybody was woken up at 6.00AM every day so that a cleaning lady could take about 15 seconds to mop the floor in my ward. I was left awaken and a bit scared wondering what it was supposed to mean. I know that Slovakia is still combating the communist mindset, but I think waking up patients one day after surgery early in the morning just to mop the floor was a little over the top. Nothing would have happened if she had come 1-2 hours later. Plus, if she had, she wouldn’t have had to switch on the lights, because, in the meantime, the sun went out (save the planet :). But anyway, I respected the well-established rules and kept looking forward to being released, since the state of my health was improving by leaps and bounds. 
Paradoxically, this biopsy was only the beginning…

DAY 15 – scalpel in, lymph node out

22nd February, 2011 -  I was woken by a nurse at 5 AM, so that she could bandage up my legs as a prevention from possible embolism during the upcoming surgery. I took a rest in my bed and I was naturally getting a bit nervous – my first surgery ever, you know.  Around 8 AM, another nurse came up to me to take me to the surgery room. As we entered the premises, I was asked to strip and put on a green garment. Then I hopped on a stretcher and the nurse pulled me towards the place where the surgery was going to take place. We entered the main hallway – the hiss, scents and the whole ambience were telling me that this was it. It felt like in a movie. I was taken to the surgery room and finally ended up on the main surgery bed. All of a sudden, seven people came to me, everybody with a different task. First I was approached by a anesthesiologist and her nurse who was slowly injecting some liquid into my veins along which I was being given nitrous oxid. From this point on, I remember only the next 10 seconds which ended in such a way that through strong lights I discerned a silhouette of the surgeon wielding a scalpel, he was ready to go…I blacked out…

In about half an hour, I could tell I started to have dreams and a few minutes later, a nurse woke me up. My very first reaction was a very sincere and open laughter because in about one second after I woke up, I came to realize that everything had gone fine and I had no pain at all. As I was laughing (still a little spaced-out) I asked the nurse to bring me some McDonald’s at which she laughed, too. So, yes, that was what I was feeling right after the surgery – a surge of happiness and hunger. I was left in another room to recuperate and to be on the watch by two nurses. As I was rather tired after the surgery and the only thing I could do there was to watch the ceiling, I began to drowse. The narcosis had deadened my senses so much that unconditioned reflexes were not so unconditioned :) yup, I ceased to breathe. The nurses immediately flocked around my bed to wake me up as the monitoring machine started to blare. This repeated for seven times as I struggled to keep in mind to breathe :) funny, but real. In two hours, I was taken to my ward.

DAY 14 – PET scan

My hematologist ordered me on Friday for the PET scan for Monday. As I am a very curious boy, so I spent several hours over the weekend trying to find out everything about the PET scan. Everything started to dovetail as I realized that patients who have only swollen lymph nodes are not sent to this scan, which is incredibly expensive, the waiting list is always very long and only two cities in my country possess the machine. As I read on the information of the PET scan, I came across a mention about its purpose and that was that the machine is used to localize spots within the human body where an unusually high consumption of sugar occurs – in simple terms, a tumor.

Let me explain what a PET scan is. PET is an abbreviation for Positron Emission Tomography, which is a nuclear medicine imaging technique which produces a three-dimensional image or picture of functional processes in the body. The system detects pairs of gamma rays emitted indirectly by a positron-emitting radionuclide, which is introduced into the body on a biologically active molecule. Three-dimensional images of tracer concentration within the body are then constructed by computer analysis.

I spent around four hours there as they were gradually injecting radioactive sugar into my veins along which I had to drink a sort of counterstain (basically a glass of bitter water) so that the scan would localize to spots with higher consumption of glucose in my body.

When I was finished, I walked to the main building with my dad and the nurses took care of me from this point on. I was given a room and the surgery was due the very next morning. The only two things I did there was stare pointlessly at the wall and play chess on my cell phone. As the evening approached, I was becoming a little nervous, since I knew what was coming up, yes, the surgery – the biopsy. I hoped everything would go just fine…

Day 11 - tests, tests, tests,...

Friday – it was a crucial day for me.  It was tiring for me physically and mentally, as well. I started in the early morning with a bloodtest at an infectologist. I like asking a lot of questions, especially when my health is concerned. Throughout the day, I was getting subtle signals from the specialists that I might be in more trouble than I’d thought. After seeing the infectologist, I carried on to see another otolaryngologist who was touching my nodes for 10 minutes without saying a single word.  He provided an explanation that the only precise way of finding out what the problem was, was to perform a biopsy, that is to say, there were going to put me to sleep and take out the node – I got the date – next Tuesday. (I thought, oops, a surgery? first ever in my life, but if it is of benefit, then let’s go for it). Then I went to a number of specialists such as cardiologist (to make sure my heart was strong enough to withstand the narcosis) and also another one who measured EKG (plus another bloodtest, arghh). I seriously thought that I’d visited every single department in the hospital that day, but I was, of course, for a good cause, they were all trying to help me, which I am very grateful for. I also underwent another sonography – the doctor checked whether my organs were fine and found out that my spleen and liver were a bit enlarged – another sign that something was wrong in my body. And then RTG of my chest - result: My lungs started to diverge from each other, oops, another sign? Finally, I came up to my hematologist who ordered me for a PET scan for the next Monday.

Day 10 - "what the ...???"

February 17th 2011 - I was done with my antibiotics the day before. So, I started up my car and drove to see my GP. She stated that the node showed no signs of backing off, so she sent me nextdoor to a otolaryngologist. She immediately sent me for a sonography where a doctor had me lie on a table and took some pics of the node from the inside. I returned back to my otolaryngologist who did not take a second to consider possible consequences of what she was just going to say. Let me mention that the lymphatic system in the body works as a filter that contains cell (lymphocytes, leukocytes, ...) which fight any form of disease, virus, mold etc. So, the range of possible causes is very wide and might include minor viruses up to serious diseases such as leukemia, lymphoma and so forth. Well, I was calm because the blood count test had been good and I had no worries at all.

She recommended I saw a hematologist for further tests. As she was handing me the documents, she said something that changed my life in a second. I quote: "...it may be a tumor..." My knee buckled as if I'd been hit with a 10kg hammer on my head. She added a question that only underscored her unprofessionalism and utter stupidity: she asked whether I had a company with me in case I fainted. I smiled to hide my true feeling that sprung up anyway a few minutes later. Please don't get me wrong for calling the otolaryngologist unprofessional, she had no right to pull out the worst diagnosis of all. Over the next days, I was taken care of by a number of specialists from who not even one dared to mention tumor - everybody waited for the only proof and that was a biopsy. But not to skip things, I will talk about that later.

But back to my story, on the same day, I drove to a local hospital in Nitra. I thought it was the longest drive in my life as my true feelings came to light. My eyes watered. I thought, me? tumor? what? I don't encounter such things, none of my friends has ever had any such problems. They only say these things on TV. I am not concerned with this kind of issues, you know. Out of the blue, I was. I tried to calm myself that those were only preliminary tests, nothing to be counted on. So, I went to see the hematologist who did another bloodtest. She also performed a physical check whether the lymph nodes were also swollen under my armpits and around my groin. The hematologist was a very kind person who urged other specialists to examine me as soon as possible. Right after this, I walked to a neurologist who is my great uncle. I did my best to man up, really, but I am afraid I couldn't just handle all the words that were around me like tumor, cancer, you know. But we agreed that it was wise to wait and see what is really behind it. He and his wife were a great deal of support for me at the hospital. God bless you.
It was Thursday, DAY TEN. I drove back home where I was asked by my Mom what had taken me so long. My eyes had been properly loaded up by Visine to cover my red eyes (because of crying). I just didn't want to scare her. I had no idea how to explain all of what was happening.

The real merry-go-round of examinations was about to start the very next day...


Day 4 - party

February 12th - My father's birthday party. All my family gathered to celebrate my dad's 50th birthday. My uncle is a neurologist, so I came up to him and showed him my swollen lymph node. Everybody was having a ball at the party, my uncle is a very cheerful man but when he felt my node, I noticed he got a bit serious. He told me to go see my GP once I was finished with my antibiotics. So, in five days, I did what he told me to do...

Day 1

It was February 8th - an ordinary day. I was just having my dinner when I felt something weird under my right jawline. Hmm, I touched it - it was obviously a swollen lymph node. I thought that it just happens. It was February, flu was raging, so I must have caught some infection of some sort. I have to say that I am usually not that type of a person who puts off things till tomorrow (meant figuratively, I read numerous stories, many people did wait for weeks and even some for months till they told their GP about the node). So, the very next day, I drove to see my GP. She touched the node and decided to do a blood test. It was rather quick, the results came within three hours. I was beginning to fear that it might be some kind of serious infection, because it was the first time ever I'd had a swollen lymph node - and I mean it was swollen properly and it had grown very quickly - just in one week!

Fortunately, the GP placated my worries because my white cell blood count was within the usual range, so there is no way I might have developed any serious disease such as leukemia and so forth. The "CRP" (C-reactive protein) shot up though, but I was told that is a marker of any inflammation in the body. As most infections are not very serious, I was calm.

My GP sent me home with antibiotics that were supposed to get rid of the inflammation.

Note: Lymph nodes are often mistakenly called "glands". But there are not glands, since they do not secrete anything.