It’s been just over a month since I underwent surgery that saw both my right eye and some of the tumour behind it removed. So I guess it’s about time I gave a bit of an update.
(Sorry I didn’t write anything sooner. Though this surgery has hopefully rid me of these endless and immense eye aches, those pains have been replaced (temporarily I hope) by healing pains. And it’s hard to write when you’re dealing with painful headaches.)
First things first, I should explain the surgery itself.
I underwent something called Evisceration surgery, which isn’t the complete removal of an eye but instead the removal of the innards of the eye. The reason for this is simple. If you remove the inside of an eye and leave the outer shell, you leave that shell connected to the muscles which control the movement of the eye. This means those muscles continue to move the false eye, making it all the more impossible to tell the difference between real and fake.
Also, because this surgery leaves part of the eye inside the socket, the actual false part is more like a large contact lense you fit over what’s left of the eye, rather than an entire eyeball. Which is nice. So don’t expect me to pop my eye out and roll it around as a party trick. Though it really is quite easy to take out and put in.
I was in hospital only one night, the surgery itself took a few hours. I tried to remember what I dreamed about during surgery, as I always do, and as I always do, I forgot everything the moment I woke up. I do remember, immediately after opening my eyes, (I mean ‘eye’ – the right had a patch over it) thinking to myself ‘Damn, I was having a really enjoyable dream then, it was warm and pleasant and comfortable, and now I’m awake and I’ll have to deal with pain and life and catheters.’
Oh, right, catheters, I had one of them. Apparently I’m someone whose bladder takes extra long to wake up after being anesthetised, something I learned the hard way after my last eye surgery when I couldn’t go, left there thinking ‘If something doesn’t happen soon my bladder will explode.’ Well, something didn’t happen, so a guy came along and stuck a tube down my… …urgh. At least this time around it was fitted during surgery while I was asleep.
Talking of sleep – I didn’t get any the night after surgery. Probably due to the combination of too many painkillers inside me (loads), probably due to too much heat around me (there was a heatwave and a nurse told me heat can make pain worse) but perhaps mostly due to how uncomfortably aware of the catheter I was. (I really don’t like catheters)
I came home Thursday, exhausted. I hadn’t slept for two nights. …Yes, ‘two nights’. I forgot to mention – as if to remind me why I’m having this surgery in the first place, as if this tumour/Cancer somehow knew a part of it was about to be eradicated, I had a really, really bad eye ache the night before surgery, so painful in fact I was awake the entire night, and nearly throwing up all morning, including while at the hospital…
So, as you can imagine, after two nights without sleep at all, and now with a body using all its available energy attempting to heal itself, the first thing I did when I got home was climb into my big spongy, comfortable bed, wrap myself in thick warm covers, like a nest, and I completely passed out for a good few hours.
It was glorious.
Since that day I’ve been going about the business of healing – Resting, watching movies, listening to music, enjoying the odd video game, reading, and, well… resting some more. The outside of my eye has completely healed, looking like a normal closed eye. The stitches initially holding the eye closed were taken out a few weeks ago, and a temporary false eye was given to me, a blue one, so for a short while I was sporting the David Bowie look, with two different coloured eyes.
It’s been changed since then to a nice green eye, so they match again, but this is still only temporary. My permanent replacement should be made in a few weeks time.
Also, as of now, I can hardly open my eye. But that should get better over time.
If all goes to plan, by around the middle of October I should have a completely normal looking eye. And better yet, I should be without pain, which means I’ll be able to enjoy a drink or two, after years without.
I’ve never felt so ready, so excited for something. And it’s a feeling extra special, given the fact I’ve had to give up so much in combat with this Cancer. And yet, somehow, a few years into it all, I can grasp something back, regain a happiness I thought I’d never see again. A drink, with friends and family, as reward for living this difficult thing called life.
I can’t wait.
In other news – A treatment has been found for me to try. One I’ll be starting in just a few weeks.
As you know, conventional treatment hasn’t been working for me, so the past few months my Oncologist (Sarah) has been asking other Doctors and hospitals if they know of something which could help me, be it trials, treatments, anything. And we’ve been keeping our fingers crossed.
The timing has been pretty horrible given this pandemic situation and the fact it caused all Cancer research and trials to go on hold, but thankfully it seems things are beginning to return back to life.
Sarah has been in contact with a Professor called Angus, based in London, who specialises in more unconventional ways to treat Melanoma. In my case he suggested boosting my Vitamin D levels, as Vitamin D is known to enhance a persons ability to combat Cancer. He also suggested an older type of Chemotherapy drug called Carboplatin, generally used for breast Cancer, but through his research he’s found it can enliven a persons body in terms of dealing with Melanoma, and often further boosts an already enlivened immune system, like mine with Immunotherapy.
Sarah also told me of another positive – During my recent surgery, the surgeon (Saul) removed a small chunk of tumour behind my eye. It was sent off for biopsy, and though still Cancer, it was noted there were lots of little white dots inside the tumour. Sarah told me those dots are T cells. The immune system. Which means the body is at least aware of the Cancer and is ‘trying’ to attack it, though is currently failing.
This is a good thing. It means my body knows the Cancer is there. And it also suggests my Immunotherapy still has some life in it, it’s still alerting the immune system to the invader, and perhaps with a little push via this other treatment, it might be able to attack and contain it again.
Now, there’s no definite with this treatment, the chances of it working aren’t exactly high. So I can’t allow myself to get carried away. But it’s something. Something rather than nothing. Something rather than feeling as though I’m out in the wilderness, the odds stacked against me. This is something that changes those odds the slightest in my favour. And above all, this is science, something backed by science. As much as I respect other methods, and I’ll be sticking to those methods, this is something built by science to specifically go after Cancer, my Cancer.
And I find that immensely reassuring.
We all have our ways. Our hopes. This is one of mine. And it’s nice to know, despite so many odds stacked against me, despite this entire pandemic stopping trials and Cancer research entirely, despite the loss of my eye, a body reliant on medication, and a diet that sucks. This is something.
And also, on top of that something, a vital joy I lost years ago I can actually enjoy again in a few weeks, when I raise a pint and say ‘cheers’ for this treatment, this attempt. This hope. This new eye. This lack of pain. And this beer.
What a difference one month can make.
Thanks all.
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The Unmisunderstood 