February 18th, 2008 - Venturing out [not]
Ingrid, the boys and I all headed down to Brisbane on Friday afternoon to spend the weekend with Cameron. We were moving into the ‘lodge’ for a few days, which is where the so-called country folks like us are provided with self-contained family accommodation that serves as a home away from home on the hospital grounds. Good isn’t it? So I was able to relieve Leigh so she could spend Friday night with Carlton, Owen and Ingrid at the lodge, while I camped next to Cameron in the ward. Uncle Gary flew in from Sydney on Saturday morning to spend the day with Cameron and immediately spoiled him with a play station portable with a Star Wars game, which was a real hit. In fact, we have not been able to hold many coherent conversations with Cameron since then! We were all so excited at the prospect of Cameron being allowed out on Saturday and to getting him out and about a little over the weekend. This was supposed to be the highlight of the weekend – if not the entire fortnight. It did turn out to be just that, but for an entirely different and much less welcome reason.
The lodge is just a 200 metre walk from the ward and within 30 minutes of arriving at the apartment Cameron’s eyes went very bloodshot and he began to feel ill. Then he went very gray, started throwing up and twice passed out on his feet in the bathroom and fortunately I was there to catch him each time, so I picked him up and carried him most of the way to the emergency room where he was given oxygen, put back on a saline drip and within 40 minutes or so he was once again back to himself. The entire experience terrified all of us, but it was particularly upsetting to Cameron, as well as to Carlton, who feared the worst as we all jumped into action with me carrying Cameron – who now weighs almost the same as Leigh – and Leigh calling the ward and Gary calling 000. Then, as if the adrenalin fuelled intensity of these infinite moments were not quite enough, about half way to the emergency room Cameron whispered into my ear “Thanks Dad” and at that moment I realised just how close to the edge he was feeling.  Â
The doctors aren’t entirely sure what specific physical event caused this episode, except in broad terms that it is related to the chemotherapy. While we were still in the emergency room and minutes after he came off the oxygen having regained his colour and his sense of humour, one of the girls from Cameron’s school class dropped in to hand deliver an A4 envelope filled with colourfully decorated, handmade get well messages from his class mates. He was absolutely thrilled and grinning from ear to ear for about an hour as he was once again reminded how many people care about, are thinking of and wishing him a speedy recovery. When the doctor told him he’d have to stay for at least another couple of days he couldn’t hold back the tears. An hour and a half later Cam was back in his bed on the ward and not at all impressed. He had been longing to come out. More so than we had realised, but the PSP certainly took the edge off of that. I got to spend a second night camping next to his bed, holding his hand and although a 4 month old baby in the same room kept us awake from about 2.00am the disturbance really didn’t seem to matter much anymore.
Such is the world of chemotherapy that the frightening event of Saturday was actually only one dark patch on an otherwise relatively bright period of Cameron’s recent journey. We finally got to see one of his recent chest x-rays taken on Friday. It revealed a remarkable reduction in the density of the tumour since the initial diagnosis (I’ll post comparative images here so you can see). And generally speaking Cameron has been coping exceptionally well with the chemotherapy even though it has certainly been taking its toll. For example he lost nearly 5% of his body Weight in just one 24 hour period late last week and the chemo has caused him to experience headaches, vomiting of course and some of his joints ache. He is also suffering from early stage mucositis, which causes ulcers in the mouth, throat, stomach – in fact throughout the digestive tract – as chemotherapy disrupts the reproduction of the epithelial cells that line this system.
Nevertheless, the steroids he is taking also have a welcome side-effect, which is they make him hungry so his appetite keeps bouncing back, even though the experience of eating is not particularly pleasant and not at all helped by a jaw that aches so intensely that he is barely able to open his mouth to insert food and a throat that doesn’t want to deal with it. Nevertheless, Cameron remains in good spirits and positively focused. For the most part he is so incredibly up-beat that it is frustrating at times, because so many times when the doctors ask Cameron “So, how are you doing?” He responds as if it’s a social greeting, with “Fine thanks”. Meanwhile he’s got all this stuff going on… We’re trying to get him to understand that it is important for the doctors to know what specific things are going on with his body right now without turning him into a hypochondriac, since this probably contributed to him being allowed out too soon. You gotta love his attitude.
February 18th, 2008 at 11:30 pm
Cameron, all I can say is that you a brave, soldier. You seem to be coping so well with all that is going on. We are all thinking about you every day! Enjoy the PSP – Ruby has one, and she does not put it down either! I’ll find out what games she has,and I’ll let you know the good ones!!
All our love and prayers, Katie, Gordon, Ruby, Lydia and Ella. Also a big hug for Mum, Dad, Carlton and Owen.
February 18th, 2008 at 7:20 pm
Hi Cam
I missed the reports the weekend but now Monday I can read again, enjoy your PSP and maybe next time your going out will last longer, but keep your chin up my boy and remember how many people through out this wonderful world are thinking of you and praying together. Lots of love to your Mom and Dad and Gran and of course your brothers. Big hugs and kisses Dee, Martin, Manuella and Kenneth xxxx