Greg's Journey

Formal clinical diagnosis and treatment planning day! Claire and I met with Professor June Corry to go through the results of yesterday's PET scan, and the proposed treatment. I was extremely anxious as this was going to tell us how this was going to play out. June went through the images of the scan, and it was great to see i had a full active, healthy and functioning brain. Great for Claire to see that as she can no longer say things like "you're brain dead", or "you're an idiot", "Did you get dropped on your head at birth?" and the like: I had medical proof and a professorial opinion. Take that! But I only had a shit-eating grin on my face for a little bit. As we went further down into the neck area it was evident there were problems. There are two large, pear-shaped tumors in my neck, approximately six centimeters in length. One is in the centre from the back of my mouth to just above vocal chords, and the other is on my right-hand side of ...

PET scan day! Today I am undergoing a different type of scan. This is a PET scan. I get pumped full of radioactive dye the wheeled in and out of what I now call a doughnut machine. This maps activity in my entire body. We know the cancer is in my throat, but this scan will map my entire body to determine if it has spread anywhere else. This was my first visit to St Vincent's on Victoria Parade as my previous St Vincent's visits were in East Melbourne. Claire met me there, and again, was promptly kicked out due to COVID protocols. I felt sad that she had come all the way into the city only to not be allowed to stay with me. I seem to have an affinity for doughnut machines, as it looks like I fell asleep in this one after a few minutes, and they woke me up after I got rolled out. Many people find them claustrophobic; I obviously find doughnut machines relaxing. Go figure!

After a big work trip in New Zealand covering Auckland, Queenstown and Wellington, it was time to leave reality behind and wing my way back on Thursday night for surgery on Friday 18th November. We had a visible diagnosis by Tim Baker, but now it was time to get a sample from the tumour for a diagnosis. Due to where the tumour was, the only way was for day surgery under general anaesthetic.  This was at St Vincent's in Grey St, East Melbourne. Poor Claire came but she was only allowed 2 metres inside the front door due to covid protocols. The whole team were great. I walked into the operating theatre, hopped up on the deb/trolley and they got me comfortable then put a mask over my nose and mouth. I remember counting to 5 with a gas mask over my face and next thing I was waking up in recovery with lots of blood splatters over my hospital gown. I was told it was full of blood - no shit, worked that out from the gown! After a while I was wheeled into another place, still a bit groggy,...

Today I was getting my MRI done after the revelation of a tumour in my throat by the ENT surgeon, Tim. I caught an Uber from the office in the city across to the I-Med MRI centre at St Vincent's in East Melbourne. The staff were great, and all credit to I-Med, the two people who helped me at the machine were the most respectful, helpful, and cheery people I have ever met in the medical industry; they genuinely loved their jobs, and it showed. I'll cut the story short here: I fell asleep in the MRI. They said a lot of people find it disconcerting and claustrophobic. I just went to sleep. Apparently I was in there for half an hour - lol. After getting dressed, it was a quick Uber ride back to the office and continuing the work day.

After the results from the ultrasound, I was referred immediately to an ear, nose and throat specialist for further investigation. The specialist, Tim, was great and very matter-of-fact. Claire and I felt comfortable with him as he poked and prodded, asked questions, and then sprayed an anaesthetic in my nose. He then inserted a wicked-looking, thin, black hose with a camera on it up my nose, that then does a U-turn and heads down the back of my throat. It wasn't painful, just a strange feeling. When Tim said  "Hhhmmmmm", I knew we had found trouble. He asked us to look at the monitor and straight away I could see a problem. Right at the base of my tounge, right back in the throat, was a lump that was blocking about 1/3 of my throat. Hello, tumour. At this stage, we don't know if it's cancer, or just something else, and Tim walked through all the possibilities of what it could be, from best case to worst case. Based on being a smoker in another lifetime, Tim said ...