Long time! 2-for-1 chemo special

Hello, me again, long time! We left off last time having had my first chemotherapy session and me telling you about the weird and wonderful side effects I’d been feeling.

Since then I’ve had two, count ‘em two(!) more doses! Time flies when you’re employed but on long term sick leave. Let me give you a quick run-down of the last 3 weeks since then:

So I had the second lot of chemo on Tuesday 28th September. It was largely uneventful. The chemo was scheduled to take place at 13:00, but due to pharmacy-related delays this was pushed back to around 17:00 ish. I’d come in to the hospital that same morning to get some blood’s done at 11:00 and I eventually got home at around 19:00.

The chemo itself went pretty smooth, a bit of a sting in my hand but nothing unbearable. I did strike up a nice conversation with the lady next to me (I want to say her name was Brenda or Barbara), so that helped pass the time quite well.

Side effects wise, I was relatively fine for the next two days. On the Thursday night and then on Friday however I did begin to feel quite uncomfortable around my mouth. My teeth were hurting, my gums felt week, and the sides and tip of my tongue had a slight burning sensation. Although this pain wasn’t unbearable, it was constantly there during the day, making it harder to eat and even sleep at night. Even water felt unpleasant as it went down my gullet.

On that same Friday, as I was sat on the sofa in the evening, I began to notice some pain on the left side of my chest. The best way I could describe this was that it was a ‘pinching’ pain that hurt every time I took a breath. The deeper the breath, the more pain I felt. After a quick once over from my brother who was at hand, I rang the hospital and gave them an explanation. They asked me to come down the same evening for further examination.

The plus side with being a cancer patient is that I didn’t have to go through the ordeal that is A&E, and as soon as I got to the hospital I was shown into my excessively large room for the night. Funnily enough, the chest pain was brought on in the evening and had lasted a fair bit of time before I rang the hospital, but by the time I was eventually in the car and en-route, I’d noticed the pain had miraculously vanished. Nevertheless I still spoke to some doctors at around midnight, had my bloods taken shortly after and was then taken in for an x-ray at what must have been around 3am.

My giant room for the night

I’d tried to steal as much sleep as I could during the night but the mouth pain was making this a near impossible task. I eventually did dose off and was informed by the doctor in the morning that all my tests had come back A-OK. The pain that I’d felt in the chest was most likely muscular, and not the result of blood clotting or anything more sinister. I was also given some paracetamol and 3 different mouthwash’s to help with the discomfort.

That was probably the most interesting thing to happen to me in the last few weeks. I’m pleased to say that the mouthwash’s worked like a charm and my mouth felt back to normal within the next day or two.

Around this same time I’d also noticed that my sleeping pattern was getting much worse. It’s difficult to say whether this insomnia was a result of my own sleeping habits, or a result of the treatment, but I’m confident that the treatment has definitely made it worse.

I tried in vain for a few nights to put my phone away and sleep at a respectable hour, but the only thing this accomplished was to have me tossing and turning all night until I eventually had to get up and go on my phone or watch tv. In the moment, nothing feels worse than desperately trying to go to sleep and getting increasingly frustrated by not being able to do so.

Nowadays I’ve come to accept this and am quite content with staying up until silly o’clock until I naturally tire. Since I don’t have work to go to right now, it isn’t the worse thing in the world to sleep in to the afternoon each day.

Anyhow, fast forward to this week and I’ve had yet another dose of chemo on Tuesday 12th October. Although the cannula did hurt a little more than usual this time, the actual chemo was pretty uneventful once again. I’ve felt completely fine the few days after this but have noticed some slight discomfort in my jaw and teeth (here we go again) earlier today. Surprisingly for me, I also felt incredibly tired at around 18:00 this evening and nodded off for around 4-5 hours.

I’m hoping the tiredness and mouth discomfort is a bit of a one-off, but we’ll see how it is once I eventually sleep and eventually wake up again later today. But enough about me, how have you been????

General update, and first Haematology appointment

Hello world,

So it’s been a week since my last post, the perfect time for an update!

I previously mentioned feeling side effects to the chemo, namely fatigue, tingly fingertips and a tired jaw/teeth. These were all seemingly minor in my eyes but I was advised to give the hospital a ring just in case. I rang the switchboard number (since it was a Saturday), and was transferred through to one of the oncology nurses. She conferred with the doctor and thought that I should come in to take a blood test. Amongst other things, the blood test would show if the electrolytes in my system could be out of balance.

Although the tinglyness is a known side effect, I was told that this was slightly rare with the current treatment that I’m on (AVD Chemotherapy). And so I went to the hospital the same day, was taken to a nice waiting area with recliner seats (I do love anything that reclines to be honest) and had my observations and bloods taken. Simple as that.

Look at that subtle colouring. That tasteful thickness. Oh my God, it even has a dual-button remote.

The hardest part of the experience was having a coffee machine in the room but not having a clue on how to actually use it. As I sat there waiting for my results over the next few hours, I couldn’t help but feel it’s judgmental and taunting stare. If I don’t return to that room and drink a cappuccino, I know I’ll never have closure.

You can literally feel the smug aura surrounding this machine

One cheese sandwich, a cup of tea and a few hours later, the doctor finally arrived. He did his own tests before telling me that my bloods were all fine. He advised me to mention these side effects at my next oncology meeting, but he was confident that I could return home. I too shared his view, and not just because I knew there was a chicken burger meal waiting for me on my return.

Fast forward to Thursday, and I again visited the hospital, but this time for a planned meeting with the Haematologist. He was pretty pleased to see that I’d been doing fine, minus the side effects I’ve already mentioned a couple hundred times. He wasn’t worried about these, but did say to keep an eye on the tingliness (which is still here) in case it gets worse. Apparently the feeling should go away once chemo ends, but there’s always a chance that it may not. If this looks to be the case then some of the drugs can be altered slightly as we proceed, which is quite reassuring.

He had further reassurances to give, as he explained that patients tend to find the first and second chemo sessions the hardest. People who start off well, he explained, have been known to feel that way (relatively speaking of course) throughout. Fingers crossed I’m in that category, though he did add that the fatigue will probably worsen.

He confirmed that the second chemo will be going ahead as planned on Tuesday next week, and also that I’d have a PET scan after my fourth dose (and second cycle) to review the progress. For those that are interested, he also told me that it’d be fine to have a flu jab, but advised that I get the booster or 3rd covid vaccine after the chemo is over. He explained that, whilst I could get the jabs now, they wouldn’t be as effective due to the chemotherapy suppressing my immune system.

Even without having any scans, I’m feeling very confident at this stage. I’m super thankful that I haven’t experienced any nausea or fevers so far, and I’m eating and drinking as if I’m completely well. What’s more; the lump by my collarbone, which has been living there rent-free since June, has also vanished. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

And finally! For those that read my last post, I’m pleased to update you on the fact that my post-hospital-holiday blues have vanished along with the lump in my neck. I’m back to being completely fine at home, and getting way too used to my unhealthy routine of sleeping at 6am every night.

Roll on Tuesday, and roll on next week.


Side effects and the holiday blues

It took just over a month, but Dans hidden jotter is now officially Daans not-so-hidden jotter (badum tish). Thank you Instagram. I’m contemplating whether or not to write this post, on account of the blog being suggested to people I know in the real world, but I think I’ll carry on anyways. As the young people say on tiktok; if you know me in real life, no you don’t.

I was discharged from the hospital on 15th September, and I’m finally feeling some sort of reaction from the first chemo-sesh. The overarching side effect isn’t exactly one of the sexy ones however (I’m looking at you, hair loss) but rather just plain old fatigue. As well as laying down more than usual (which is saying something!), I was surprised to see how a normal and pleasant conversation earlier in the day left me tired and needing to rest my eyes.

Another by-product of the chemo is that I seem to be noticing other minute changes to my finely-tuned bodily equilibrium. This is definitely a dangerous road to go down I know, but so far I have noticed the following:

  • A tiredness (for lack of a better word) around my jaw and teeth. Don’t ask me how teeth can seem tired because I don’t have a clue.
  • The increased need to crack the bones in my fingers, as well as the faintest feeling of weakness in the bones of my hands.
  • A papery / tingly sensation at the ends of my fingertips.

Another unexpected complication over the last 2 days has been a sudden wave of sadness that seems to have washed over me. I haven’t felt the need to cry since I was first told of the possible lymphoma over a month ago, so I was quite surprised to find tears in my eyes whilst I showered this morning. For the rest of the day I felt like I could cry at any moment, and sure enough I did, especially when I sat down to pray and also when I was shown affection from my parents.

Annoyingly for me, I can’t quite decide whether the tears are just long overdue, whether they’re a product of the medication I’m on or because deep down I was missing the hospital, the routine and the people that I’d come to know over the last few weeks. I suspect that the sadness is due to a combination of all of the above, and I’d be lying if I said the last reason wasn’t weighing on my mind. There’s a tragic story of unrequited love buried in there somewhere but I won’t go into that.

I’m curious as to how my body will react further to the chemo that was given earlier this week. A part of me can’t help but look down at my hands and feel that this is the start of some deteriorating process, but despite the sheer grimness of that thought, I’m still feeling positive. Overall I’m glad to be home, I’m pleased that everything’s under way, I’m surrounded by family and I have future appointments planned at the hospital.

I’m also confident that a little time will be all that’s needed to heal whatever sadness remains.  

As always, signing off with peace and love


First chemotherapy session – Completed it mate

This post comes to your screens relatively late, since I had my first chemotherapy session on 14th September, but how can I have a cancer journey blog without journaling how the very first experience went!?

As I mentioned earlier, the news that I’d finally be having my first chemo session was ever-so-slightly daunting, considering it had always seemed weeks away in my mind, but overall my main feeling was of relief to finally get the healing process under way.

If I cast my mind back a couple days – Tuesday 14th September started like any other – with observations being done at the usual convenient time of 06:30. The only difference being that on this day I’d ordered myself an actual semi-hearty breakfast for once, essentially ordering a full English without any of the meat or eggs. This was a nice change from the usual bowl of crunchy nut cornflakes, or no breakfast at all, that I’d been enjoying thus far.

Since I still had a little bit of covid left in me (2 positive and 2 negative swabs), I was to be taken to a dialysis ward in the hospital, where a make-shift chemo centre had been set-up for others like me. The 2 nurses running the ward had seen patients in this space before and administered the chemo, but this was the first day they’d ran a proper clinic from the area. As expected there were a few bumps in the road, but these were all pretty minor, such as not knowing where certain bits of kit were or having to leave and get little things brought up to them from their usual place of work.

The make-shift chemo ward with my guardian angel in the corner there

Despite being somewhat disorientated, I have to commend the nurses whose names I didn’t get (one of them was possibly Sarah?) for making the whole experience surprisingly comfortable! I’m pretty sure they both worked later than they should have and definitely missed their own lunch breaks as a result. Some heroes really don’t wear capes, but still manage to provide you with a nice bed, a cheese sandwich and some water.

The actual chemotherapy was rather, dare I say it, underwhelming. In my mind I saw it as just yet another IV drug session, of which I’ve had many by this point. The course of drugs being administered to me are AVD; two of the drugs were pushed through the cannula via a syringe, with the third being hooked up to a bag and pushed through over the course of around an hour to an hour and a half. This particular chemo drug was kept in a light sensitive bag which was new.

Look at that fresh cannula! Isn’t she lovely..

Although it wasn’t exactly painful, the third drug definitely caused a stinging sensation in my hand at times as it went through. It was a bearable burning sensation, but the nurse placed my hand in a heated pack throughout which really helped to balance this out.

I wish I’d written down which drug it was, but one of the first two drugs left an interesting tingling sensation around my lower crotch area. I was told this might feel like sitting on a bush of nettles, and I have to say that was the perfect way to describe it!

The entire process lasted around 3 hours, and before I knew it I was being wheeled back to my home ward, along with all of it’s creature comforts that I’d previously taken for granted. It’s been 2 days now since then and I’m almost nervous to say that I haven’t felt a single side effect of the chemo so far. In fact I was feeling so fine after that first dose that I even logged into my laptop, cleared my personal inbox (3,000+ e-mails) and did some much needed life admin.

In the back of my mind I know that this period of no side effects can’t last, but I’ve decided to enjoy the good times while they’re here and deal with any of the negatives as and when they come.

Famous last words I’m sure.

Since the chemo went rather well, and since I’m no longer feeling nauseous or feverish, I’ve now been allowed back home. I was therefore finally discharged from the hospital yesterday evening, 15th September, and I bring this news to you from the nook under the staircase in my home. Maybe I’ll take a photo of the nook in the morning and insert it here.

Feel free to interact with the post whichever way you choose, and as always, I’ll send you off with




Xoxo Daan

What’s that coming over the hill. Is it the chemo?

Another 2 week gap since posts, but this time the gap’s been somewhat eventful.

Firstly, and most importantly(!), I did eventually buy a skateboard! It’s an Enjoi complete 8.0” Helvetica Neue deck in a beautiful aqua for those interested! I’ve learnt how to push and roll so far but can only stop by launching myself off the board and running alongside it. I’ll get there eventually!.. Probably.

Isn’t she lovely?

But 2 weeks on from my last, and in my mind quite dramatic, post I now find myself back in the same ward I was discharged from almost a month ago. Home bittersweet home. Although I was fine when I left the hospital, I eventually started becoming more and more feverish. Starting off with one fever a day, and gradually evolving to the point where my temperature was spiking every 4-5 hours, with temps sometimes creeping over 40 degrees.

After making a few phone calls to the cancer nurses, and receiving weekly positive covid test results from the walk-through centre, the doctors finally called me into the hospital on Thursday, 2nd September. Long story Long, the general consensus was that the fevers were most likely being caused by covid as opposed to the lymphoma (the reasoning being that lymphoma fevers don’t tend to run that high). The course of action therefore became to treat the covid before chemotherapy could start, thus preventing that pesky little side effect of death, I suppose.

I began a course of Meropenem antibiotics to tackle a high infection marker (CRP) found in my bloods. I also started a 5-10 day course of Remdesivir (which always brings the image of Donald Trump to my mind when I think of it) to treat the covid.

I was then finally given the long awaited news, which was, drum roll please..

… The chemotherapy should be starting next week fingers crossed, with a provisional date given to me of Tuesday 14th September. Insert crowd cheer here.

The news was a little bit of a shock since chemo has always been 2-3 weeks away in my head due to all the roadblocks, but on the whole it is of course very welcome. The real treatment can finally be kickstarted. The show must go on.  

Anyways, fast forward to the 11th of September and so far I’ve had / have started the following:

  • 4 covid swabs. 2 which came back negative (woo!) and 2 positive (boo!).
  • A 10 day course of Meropenem antibiotics.
  • A 5-10 day course of Remdesivir.
  • A high dose of Prednisolone steroids, which is used both for covid and chemo.
  • Anti-viral and prophylactic antibacterial tablets, to be taken before and during the course of chemo. Conveniently I’ve forgotten the name of both of these.
  • Allopurinol tablets, typically used to treat gout (gout??) but in my case given to counteract some of the effects of the steroids.

There’s also the small issue of fertility which thankfully should no longer be a problem, since the clinic has kindly decided to freeze my sperms despite the positive covid test results. Perhaps I’ll make a separate post about that later.

This morning’s pills n potions. Plus a sneak peak at my hospital view.

But all in all I’m currently well and truly pumped full of drugs right now, and raring to get go.

Thanks as ever for reading. In the words of every youtuber that’s ever lived, don’t be shy to comment, like, share, or dare I say it.. subscribe!

Lots of love,


Pre-chemo roadblocks

It’s been a week since my last post, but that’s down to the fact that nothing much has really happened. Up until a couple days ago, the 2 bits that I needed to tick off pre-chemo were the PET scan and the visit to the fertility clinic. The fact that I was constantly testing positive for covid (most recently last week) however meant that this would be delayed.

A few days ago I rang the nurses as I was concerned with an increase in fevers. The doctor then rang and let me know that, due to the positive covid result, I wouldn’t be having a PET scan. This isn’t an issue however as the original CT scan contained enough detail to start treatment. He then informed me that the fertility clinic would not allow me to visit whilst I was still covid positive.

This last part was news to me. During the call, I didn’t react strongly to this, and neither have I since. I am acutely aware however that this is bothering me deep down, and the reason I haven’t fully reacted is because I have a knack for placing heavy topics to the back of my mind and under the rug.

I therefore hope that writing this blog post will force me to focus on the issue and properly think on it. The doctor did say that there’s only a small chance that AVD chemotherapy can cause infertility, though he went on to add that the likelihood may increase if further treatment is needed.

Those words sound so final to me as I repeat them in my head, and of course my brain is currently dwelling on the worst case scenario, infertility. Although I don’t see kids in my immediate future, the thought of not being able to have them is weighing really large in my mind. I love kids. I have 2 nieces whom I love to bits and the thought of not being able to have any of my own someday is extremely saddening.

This news almost seems worse than when the doctor first told me about the possible lymphoma in my body.

I went for a PCR test yesterday and am really praying that I finally see a negative result. This would make life so much easier. If I do test positive however, I’ll have to speak to the doctor again and re-discuss.

Future plans would then be to contact the clinic myself, contact other hospital clinics or maybe even look for private options.

Thankfully treatment can safely be delayed by 2-3 weeks, so maybe that means I’ll have a few more chances at doing covid tests, but fingers crossed I won’t need it.

Failing all else, I’ll just have to proceed with the treatment and put my trust in the odds. There’s a Hunger Games line in there somewhere. Stay tuned for updates.

Peace and love,


* Featured Photo by Travis Saylor from Pexels *

Searching for a hobby

Shorter post than normal. It’s almost 04:00. The weekend’s drawn to a close. I definitely need some sleep. So of course, what do I do? I pull out my laptop and attempt to write a blog post.

I currently have a few things on my mind whilst I wait for a plan of action from the doctors, and one of the least pressing ones (which incidentally takes up most of my thinking) is that I should find a hobby to start during the chemo process!

Perhaps a little back story on me that you don’t really need, but I have been known to occasionally over-hype potential new hobbies. I’ll watch hours of Youtube videos for said hobby, spend way too much money acquiring the necessary equipment and then finally won’t really go through with it.

But this time it’s different. I can feel it. I can feel it in my enlarged lymph nodes.

The hobby in question is skateboarding. I’ve never skateboarded before, I’m not sure how much balance I naturally possess and I’m not overly keen on grazed knees. It seems pointless asking this question since I don’t think anyone will read this to answer, but is this a little silly? I’m low-key conscious that I’m 27 and maybe a little old to start, so I really need someone to comment below and tell me otherwise.

I have no idea how taxing the chemotherapy will be on my mind and body, and perhaps I’m not giving it the respect it deserves. To re-cap; the chemo will ideally last 6 months, with visits to the hospital once every 2 weeks to be IV-fed some drugs. On the other hand however, it is recommended that I try and remain active throughout.

Is chemotherapy really the right time to be starting skateboarding? Is it silly to start an activity which involves falls and grazes? Will I even have the energy throughout chemo to try and learn how to do it?

A lot of questions. Any answers/insight would be much appreciated.

If I was to set a goal, it wouldn’t be to learn any crazy tricks/flips, but rather to be comfortable on a skateboard. Comfortable enough to cruise around, force someone to record me from their car, stick some indie music in the background and post a video to Instagram/reddit. That isn’t too much to ask for right??

Other potential hobby ideas were to learn a new language (though even the thought of that pre-chemo is slightly tiring) or perhaps take up drawing/painting. Skateboarding however keeps cropping up as the number 1 contender in my mind so far.

Shall I go ahead with it? Do feel free to leave a comment below with your thoughts or experiences.

Peace and love,


A love letter to the NHS

Day 25 and I’ve finally been discharged from the hospital. I almost can’t believe I’d spent the last 25 days confined to a room without losing my mind. It also felt weird stepping out into the ward and then even further out, into the outside world. The place where germs are born.

I’ve left the hospital with a vague-ish plan of action. The 2 items to tick off pre-chemo are the PET-CT scan and the freezing of the sperms, but thanks to my constant positive Covid testing, this may be somewhat delayed. I’ll hopefully have a phone call next week with an update, so watch this space!!

I think I’ll use this post to publicly, to all 4 of you viewers, share my appreciation for the NHS, and more specifically the people that make it up. I’ve genuinely met some lovely people over the past 25 days. I’ve had chats with porters, cleaners, healthcare assistants, radiographers, nutritionists, physios, food-bringing ladies (not their official job title I’m sure), nursing students, nurses, doctors, consultants and others that have momentarily slipped my mind.

I spoke to one nurse about her upcoming marriage plans, and the struggles of telling her dad about how she met her partner, and to another about the awkwardness of not getting along with her new sister in-law. One of the cleaners showed me her Disney-OBSESSED kitchen and various tattoos. A healthcare assistant spoke to me about how she’s still playing Pokémon Go and remains the gym leader in her area after all this time. One of the physios told me about his own chemo experience as a child and reassured me that my hair would grow back nice and soft, whilst another nurse regaled me of her travels from Ethiopia to Rome to Texas and finally to the UK. The ward manager waited with me for a couple hours whilst I had my biopsy done and even the doctor kept me talking about my job to distract me from the needle entering my spleen.

I’m grateful for each and every person who took the time out of their busy day to just stand around and chat. They may have been pressed for time with other tasks, but they rarely let that show and I appreciate that.

I was fortunate to have my own room for the duration of my stay, as well as an upgrade partway through, but it was the niceness of the staff that contributed the most to a surprisingly pleasant visit. So pleasant in fact that the news that I’d be going home was almost bitter-sweet, and I’m writing this now with a touch of the post-holiday blues. I’m not sure how many people can say that they miss their stay in hospital, but I’m one of them. Either I miss the hospital or I just really miss having a bed that reclines. Who knows.

Look at that recliner bed. #Takemeback

Having said that (just in case my family read this), it is great to be back home. I certainly won’t miss the daily tummy injections (to prevent blood clots) nor the routine observations at 7 in the morning. It’s also quite nice not having any line going through my vein. By the end of my stay I had such an itch at the site of my cannula that I didn’t even mind pulling the sticker, and a tiny bit of hair, off my arm. It was, dare I say it, actually quite satisfying. I also won’t miss paying just over £30.00 for a weeks’ worth of useable wi-fi.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to itch that!

So this is my love letter to the NHS, and to all those who work therein. Seeing all the staff working together like clock-work to keep everything ticking over, it’s impossible not to appreciate the NHS for the well-oiled machine it is. May that machine continue running for years and years to come.

Peace and love,



23:25, Tuesday 10th August 2021. Apparently I can’t write a post without first stating the exact time I started.

We left off early this morning with the hope that a diagnosis would be coming at some point during the day. After publishing the blog post yesterday I read some lymphoma stories and was so sure the upcoming news would hit me hard. Up until this point I’ve been mostly positive, haven’t gone down any internet worm holes and have generally stuck to reading material on trusted sites (NHS, MacMillan and Lymphoma Action). So I think I was finally ready to break down.

The day started routinely, my respiratory consultant didn’t have major news for me, just that they’d continue giving me antibiotics for the time being so that if treatment was needed, my chest would be in tip-top shape for it.

My brother arrived shortly after with some home food and gifts from friends (slippers, a 6ft USB-C wire and a really nice journal) and from then on it was essentially a waiting game until the Haematologist arrived.

I had a long overdue shower and donned a Barcelona top which was kindly gifted to me by one of my cousins. I was ready.

The look of a man who’s ready for some news.

The Haematologist arrived mid-afternoon and asked me what I knew so far (see previous post). She then went on to confirm that yes, I did indeed have a Lymphoma. *Cue the dramatic squirrel music*

Truth be told, this didn’t really hit me at all! Maybe it’s because I’d already convinced myself of the outcome, or maybe it’s because she instantly went on to give me more information, but no tear was shed. There was a strange feeling in my throat at one point but this swiftly passed whilst I focused on the info at hand.

The Lymphoma in my body is specifically a form of Hodgkin Lymphoma, which is common in the early 20’s (I’m 27 but probably 24 at heart), and more specifically it is Nodular Sclerosing Classical Hodgkin Lymphoma, currently at Stage 3.

I’d like to note that the consultant didn’t dwell on the news too long, and barely even paused after confirming the diagnosis. With an up-beat attitude she went straight into info mode, and her confidence in the treatment options available really radiated with me.

She spoke about how this type of cancer has a really good outlook, and how the majority of patients can fight it off with chemo without it returning. She covered so many of the questions I’d proudly pre-prepared; the chemotherapy would last ideally 6 months, with drugs being delivered once every 2 weeks for 12 weeks. 2 Sessions make up a cycle, so that gives 6 cycles in total. The drugs in question being Doxorubicin, Vinblastine and Dacarabazine (AVD for short).

She covered the side effects; hair falling out, nausea, fatigue etc.. Thankfully however I’d already read up on this beforehand and had my head around it. The beauty of waiting 2 weeks for a final diagnosis.

All in all the consultant was extremely helpful and of course incredibly knowledgeable. She answered the few questions I did have left, specifics about the hair falling out, questions on isolation as well as effects on fertility (sperm bank here I come) and finally gave a rough idea of a plan going forward.

The fact I’m still testing positive for covid complicates matters somewhat from a logistical point of view, but the next steps are pretty much to visit the sperm bank and get a PET scan, before starting chemo. It’s likely the lymphoma was bubbling away for the past few months, so a delay of a couple weeks before treatment should be no big deal.

To conclude, I’m feeling positive about the chemo and crucially so is my family. Onwards and upwards! Here’s to the next 6 months of isolation, and living life in hermit mode. Essentially a dream come true.

If you managed to get this far down the post then please do leave a comment! I’d love to interact with anyone, whether you’ve been through a similar process or not.

Signing Out. Peace!



It’s 03:23 on Tuesday 10th August. I’m currently on day 21 of my stay in Hospital, and you’re probably wondering how I got here right??

To cut a medium story short, I tested positive for Covid-19 in early July, and started having symptoms pretty much straight away. Dry coughs, constant fevers and a nice helping of nausea to top it all off.

I came to A&E on 20th July with Covid as well as another chest infection. Had some X-rays, Blood Tests, IV Antibiotics and after all that I was still discharged. Or so the doctors had thought. Thankfully no one had sought to tell me to pack my bags so, much to the doctor’s surprise the following morning, there I was.

View from the hospital on my first night
The hospital wasn’t ready for this much drip..

Finally, I had a CT scan, and on the 28th July was told that I had enlarged lymph nodes in my chest and spleen, with a good chance of this being a Lymphoma!

I never thought covid could be a blessing but there you go.

Fast forward a few days to 2nd August and I had my much anticipated spleen biopsy. The results can usually take 1-2 weeks to come through, but I have it on good authority (the doctor’s) that this should come through tomorrow. Actually, it’s currently Tuesday morning so, today!

And that’s all of you pretty much up-to-date on my life. In fewer than 12 hours I’ll probably have confirmation on whether or not I have the dreaded C-word.

So stay tuned! And together we can navigate these Cancerous seas aboard the SS Lymphomaniac with our glasses half full and our heads held high.

I should really get to sleep

Peace and love!