Extra headspace

Two weeks ago. I was stretching out my neck muscles, taking some deep breaths to calm myself before surgery. The surgeon had just warned me about a few significant risks that he had forgotten to mention: bruising around the eyes, a stiff jaw-bone from surgery, forehead paralysis. At this stage I felt I was too pot-committed to say “hey, actually can I have 2 minutes to discuss all this with my wife?”

A few hours later. I was too groggy to fully appreciate it, but wow was it beautiful to wake up with all body parts moving in perfect harmony...

Two weeks ago? Yeah, time flies. I didn’t really mean to take this long to post an update, but it is about time. Without wanting to jinx the recovery, here are two early takeaways: the neurosurgeon seems to have done an incredible job. He let me out a couple of nights early, walking on my own. None of the tales of post-surgical Apocalypse materialised. I came out with some pain but it’s steadily on its way down. What remains is deep fatigue juxtaposed with sense of melancholic restlessness. Today I return to the PhD books. Next week I hope to return to training. No choice on the nappies.

Super powers? Some of the staff at the hospital were not very impressed by my antics. My favourite was the anaesthesiologist. She had forgotten she had treated me during my biopsy a couple of years earlier. As soon as she asked me where I was from I responded: "I remember you from my biopsy in December 2014. I know that you know I'm going to fall asleep in the next 10, 9, 8...". Reading? With all these hours to burn I’ve gotten through some great books: Brunel’s ‘Kings of Pain’ (learnt a lot about cycling history!); Asimov's ‘I, Robot’; Borges’s ‘Labyrinths’.

Restrictions? Kind of. A very "British" take-it-easy-and-respond to-how-your-body-feels. We want you to keep moving but we want you to take it really easy. Comb your hair to the left so that it covers all the scars but don’t get them wet.

Doc's self-assessment? Pretty smug. He feels he got out as much out as was safely possible. The tissue is now in Memphis, Tennessee, where it will be converted into a vaccine. The aim? Teach my body to better fight the tumour. In fact, the surgeon has been so impressed by my response to treatment that he wants to have the tumour "reassessed" - potentially to lower the diagnosis. Not that this would change the medical strategy, but as a man of science...

Cured? Extremely unlikely. The excision and vaccine should, in theory, slow the tumour down dramatically. But as I’ve often said: this is as much art as science. A few relatively unchartered questions remain: possible return of chemo? My tumour seems to hate the chemo, ergo... How effective will the vaccine prove? It is definitively not a cure but some people have survived on it for over 10 years. How closely linked were the excised "main" tumour on the left and the smaller remnants that appeared recently on the right? And so on...

It’s a beautiful day. Let’s see what we can do with it!