Well that was an interesting 30 minutes. We are all go for chemo. They have the eye drops coming on a courier.
Dr G has removed the old cannula and installed two more. I am hooked up to two drips, one in each arm. I look like a puppet! Typing is awkward, luckily not impossible.
I'm currently being pumped full of saline in preparation for the first of the chemo drugs, Cisplatin. I have to be fully hydrated to avoid kidney damage. They have given me another bottle to pee into as well (thankfully a small one), this is to check the PH both before and after.
I've been given an anti-fungal oral suspension to gargle for the anticipated thrush that always happens with me and chemo.
Dr G listed off all the other drugs that will be administered, I had hoped to write them down but I couldn't catch any of the names. I know what they do, anti-emetics, to stop me throwing up, anti inflammatories to enhance the chemo's affects and protect against damage to healthy cells.
Stuff for my kidneys etc. I've been told to drink lots and lots of water. I'll certainly be doing that. (Once a few years back I forgot to and it took pain in my kidneys to remind me).
Now we wait....
Biljana (who is Croatian as I had thought) has injected an anti-emetic into my line, as she did I remembered that I had a peculiar reaction to such a drug a few years back.. it knocked me out cold for hours! This time I feel OK.
She's put the eye gel in too, makes things a little blurry, but not too bad.
One of the lines has sprung a leak at the cannula, I think a small piece of cotton cloth got under the screw fitting, I've pointed it out to the nurse and she has now remedied it. I got her to tape the lines to my wrist too so I can still type. :)
So far so good..
When Dr G was here I asked him about the affects of Alexan on my fragile bone marrow and if he was prepared for any problems. He replied that I would be given GCSF and Neumega, both are growth factors used to increase blood counts post chemo.
My platelet count is 135 today, that's high for me. He said that if my count goes under 100 then no chemo. I laughed and said 50 was acceptable back in NZ considering how badly damaged my bone marrow is. (marrow is where blood is made).
I told him the story of when my platelet count was under ten and the Haematologist at Wgtn hospital had gone off on his Christmas break and not even bothered to tell anyone. I had no idea how serious that situation was and drank my fair share of Christmas spirit.
It was not until I started to bleed from my eyes that I realised how serious it was.
Dr G was incredulous, he asked how I was still alive and that I should have had a platelet transfusion urgently. I shrugged..
Well the chemo is now going in. Nurse Manja has replaced Biljana as the shift changed.
I've asked her nicely if she could go to the kitchen and have them make me two ham, tomato and mustard sandwiches. I had phoned and asked but the weekend staff must not speak English very well and did not understand me. Manja now knows two new words, Ham and Mustard.
Ooh they have arrived! They look good..
It's been about an hour, and although I feel a little off colour, there's no nausea yet.
Have made a mental note to avoid getting my line caught in my button-fly after doing so. Then wondering why my arm would not move and when forcing the issue becoming completely perflexed as to why something was moving in my pants.
I'd like to have written something humorous today, but you know, try as I might I just couldn't think of anything humorous about being poisoned. However I have yet to have my dinner so there is hope yet ;)
....Four hours have now passed and I'm still feeling pretty good.. I've just finished the Cisplatin and will now have just a saline drip until around 1am.
I'll leave it at that and start another post if anything changes..
Saturday, August 16, 2008
The Dichotomy of Motorsport, Cancer and Chemo.
As I write today's entry I am hooked up to an IV line.
Right now it's infusing me with Vitamin C. Later it will be something else, then I will have the cannula in my left wrist removed and another fitted to my right arm in preparation for chemo.
My current line has been in since Monday morning and since Wednesday it has needed to be flushed with a syringe to remove blockages that naturally build up around the needle as my body tries to heal this opening in my vein.
Today Biljana had to press very hard on the syringe to get it to push the debris out of the way and open up the line. It stung a little as it burst the damn and flooded saline into the vein.
I like the idea of having high dose Vitamin C. I've been taking 9000mg in tablet form for some time now and I believe it helps stop the lymphoma from growing. The process has validity, Vit-C causes Peroxide to me manufactured in the cancer cells. Reducing oxygen levels and limiting the cell's blood supply.
The IV has just run out, I'll phone Biljana and ask her for the next infusion.
I drag the IV stand across the room to the telephone and dial 202. "I coming" says the voice at the other end and she hangs up. Ten seconds later and she's here with another bottle to infuse. I think Biljana might be Croatian, I'll ask her when she comes back.
My line is blocking up again, the flow rate is pathetic, about one drip every 2 seconds. It could take hours just to get the next two bottles in. (They use clear plastic bottles here, where as in NZ it's a soft plastic bag).
OK so here's the background to my Dichotomy: I woke this morning and instantly felt this horrible feeling of dread hanging over me. Today is D-Day, no going back. As I sat down at my table for breakfast I noticed that my hand was shaking. That puzzled me, I usually only feel this way in the minutes leading up to a high speed run in my race car.
That got my thinking.. The reason I race is because I love a challenge. I get a huge rush out of taking a risk and coming out the other side. Before hand I often get nervous. If I didn't get nervous then obviously there's no fear. If it wasn't scary I wouldn't do it. There has to be risk involved otherwise you don't get the "rush" at the other end as you cross the finish line with your car, life and limbs in one piece.
So my brain starts joining the dots... OK Ron, you have a disease that is guaranteed to kill you if left untreated. Your sport of choice involves driving at ridiculous speeds in situations where if you make a mistake you may be killed or maimed.. and you are nervous about taking some drugs that will save your life ??? Get a grip!
I laughed to myself at how a change of perspective can so drastically change your mind set. I shook my head, smiled and dug into my cornflakes.
Bugger! I just looked up at the drip and it's stopped. I've tried squeezing the line and massaging the vein but it won't unblock. OK I see the problem, when I squeeze it the fluid just goes back up the line. If you fold the line over on itself, then squeeze you get a sting in the vein as the fluid pushes past the blockage and it flows again. Sheesh how hard was that!
Biljana has come to change the IV and she tells me that I may not have chemo today because they do not have the eye drops I need to prevent conjunctivitis. That would mean that they would have to put it off until Monday. I'll push to have it today. At $2000 a day to be here, that makes for a $4000 bottle of eye drops!. I'll wait for Dr Glonti and see if I can't convince him.
I'll start a new post since the pace has picked up here somewhat...
Right now it's infusing me with Vitamin C. Later it will be something else, then I will have the cannula in my left wrist removed and another fitted to my right arm in preparation for chemo.
My current line has been in since Monday morning and since Wednesday it has needed to be flushed with a syringe to remove blockages that naturally build up around the needle as my body tries to heal this opening in my vein.
Today Biljana had to press very hard on the syringe to get it to push the debris out of the way and open up the line. It stung a little as it burst the damn and flooded saline into the vein.
I like the idea of having high dose Vitamin C. I've been taking 9000mg in tablet form for some time now and I believe it helps stop the lymphoma from growing. The process has validity, Vit-C causes Peroxide to me manufactured in the cancer cells. Reducing oxygen levels and limiting the cell's blood supply.
The IV has just run out, I'll phone Biljana and ask her for the next infusion.
I drag the IV stand across the room to the telephone and dial 202. "I coming" says the voice at the other end and she hangs up. Ten seconds later and she's here with another bottle to infuse. I think Biljana might be Croatian, I'll ask her when she comes back.
My line is blocking up again, the flow rate is pathetic, about one drip every 2 seconds. It could take hours just to get the next two bottles in. (They use clear plastic bottles here, where as in NZ it's a soft plastic bag).
OK so here's the background to my Dichotomy: I woke this morning and instantly felt this horrible feeling of dread hanging over me. Today is D-Day, no going back. As I sat down at my table for breakfast I noticed that my hand was shaking. That puzzled me, I usually only feel this way in the minutes leading up to a high speed run in my race car.
That got my thinking.. The reason I race is because I love a challenge. I get a huge rush out of taking a risk and coming out the other side. Before hand I often get nervous. If I didn't get nervous then obviously there's no fear. If it wasn't scary I wouldn't do it. There has to be risk involved otherwise you don't get the "rush" at the other end as you cross the finish line with your car, life and limbs in one piece.
So my brain starts joining the dots... OK Ron, you have a disease that is guaranteed to kill you if left untreated. Your sport of choice involves driving at ridiculous speeds in situations where if you make a mistake you may be killed or maimed.. and you are nervous about taking some drugs that will save your life ??? Get a grip!
I laughed to myself at how a change of perspective can so drastically change your mind set. I shook my head, smiled and dug into my cornflakes.
Bugger! I just looked up at the drip and it's stopped. I've tried squeezing the line and massaging the vein but it won't unblock. OK I see the problem, when I squeeze it the fluid just goes back up the line. If you fold the line over on itself, then squeeze you get a sting in the vein as the fluid pushes past the blockage and it flows again. Sheesh how hard was that!
Biljana has come to change the IV and she tells me that I may not have chemo today because they do not have the eye drops I need to prevent conjunctivitis. That would mean that they would have to put it off until Monday. I'll push to have it today. At $2000 a day to be here, that makes for a $4000 bottle of eye drops!. I'll wait for Dr Glonti and see if I can't convince him.
I'll start a new post since the pace has picked up here somewhat...
Friday, August 15, 2008
Day 5, Cornflakes, chemo and rain.
I like breakfast time it's the highlight of my day.
Generally I'll head downstairs to the restaurant at around 8am, this morning I left it a little later arriving at 9am.
As she does every morning Frederica greeted me with her mile wide smile and a cheerful "good morning". Frederica is in her 40's, is tall, has reddish brown hair and wears glasses. She wears what looks like a traditional Bavarian waitress costume, a black pinafore, red apron and a white blouse with short puffy sleeves.
I always choose the same things for breakfast, it's safest. Cornflakes, toast and green tea. This morning as I enter the dining room, seated in their usual place are two men, both are in their late 20's and appear to be either Russian or from one of the Slavic countries.
I greet them as I do every day, with a cheery "Good Morning" only one of them ever replies. The elder of the two. He has lost his hair through treatment and appears unwell. The other man ignores me completely.
My table is some distance from them which is good because it means I have an excuse not to attempt conversation. As I take my place two women in their 60's enter and also take their seats at their respective tables (all the tables have name tags). I say good morning to both. The more outgoing of the two, an American, asks where I am from and I reply New Zealand. Eleanor introduces herself and says she's been there, loves the place. We talk non-stop for the next thirty minutes or so about treatments and how we each came to be here.
The other woman "Eva" is Swedish and more reserved, she nods and smiles and add's information to the conversation as Eleanor asks it of her. We talked about the poor internet service and I tell them that I manage to get online about half the time. Both are immediately envious as neither can connect. Eleanor asked if I could visit her room and take a look at her computer. I told her that the problem is downstairs with the server and that I don't think the guy that they have "fixing" it has a clue.
I finish my breakfast, bid the ladies good morning and return to my room, meeting Dr Kopic on the stairs. He follows me to my room and we both seat ourselves at my writing desk as we do every morning where we discuss the days treatment plan. Today is a rest day, it's raining anyway so I have an excuse to stay in and read my book. Dr Kopic tells me that he has decided to start chemotherapy tomorrow once my monocytes have recovered enough to reduce the chances of infection.
I asked him how he came to decide on what drugs to use when the results aren't in from Greece yet? He said that he has been in discussion with the German Hodgkins study group (the recognised world leaders in Hodgkins research) and that they have suggested the drugs dexanethasone, Alexan (Cytarabine) and Cisplatin.
Cisplatin and Cytarabine cause damage to a cell's DNA ultimately resulting in it's death (cell necrosis) Healthy cells can repair their DNA, cancer cells cannot and therefore die. Possible side effects include kidney damage, hearing loss and more worryingly bone marrow suppression. The other drug Dexanethansone is a power anti-inflammatory, 6 times more potent than prednisone.
I'm expecting to be quite ill from these drugs, I guess the posts might be a bit shorter after tomorrow. We shall see :)
After Dr Kopic left I started researching the drugs, how they work and what to expect. It's not fun reading, but then again this has got to be better than high dose chemo.
There's a knock at the door and Eleanor pops her head inside and exclaims in her American accent "Ooh I just love your room!" and proceeds to inspect every nook and cranny, saying that hers is nowhere near as nice. She see's that I'm online and again voices her annoyance that she cannot connect. She leaves just as fast as she appeared.
There's another knock at the door..Christine the office manager pops in to say that Eleanor had "volunteered" me to take a look at the clinics computer network and see if I can't fix it. I told her that I'd have no problem if I could read German to understand the info on the screens, but I'd take a look later anyway.. Perhaps it's a simple fix. Later when I went downstairs she said that the technicians were coming and not to worry. They have been out 4 times this week already.
It's still raining outside, so I have nothing planned for the rest of the day other than to consume two ham and tomato sandwiches for lunch made for me by Stephanie in the kitchen, have three IV infusions of what ever they have chosen to give me today, and to read my book. (in actuality I slept most of the afternoon)
Expect an abridged blow by blow guide to how my body reacts to the administering of highly cytotoxic chemicals tomorrow.
..Ron
Generally I'll head downstairs to the restaurant at around 8am, this morning I left it a little later arriving at 9am.
As she does every morning Frederica greeted me with her mile wide smile and a cheerful "good morning". Frederica is in her 40's, is tall, has reddish brown hair and wears glasses. She wears what looks like a traditional Bavarian waitress costume, a black pinafore, red apron and a white blouse with short puffy sleeves.
I always choose the same things for breakfast, it's safest. Cornflakes, toast and green tea. This morning as I enter the dining room, seated in their usual place are two men, both are in their late 20's and appear to be either Russian or from one of the Slavic countries.
I greet them as I do every day, with a cheery "Good Morning" only one of them ever replies. The elder of the two. He has lost his hair through treatment and appears unwell. The other man ignores me completely.
My table is some distance from them which is good because it means I have an excuse not to attempt conversation. As I take my place two women in their 60's enter and also take their seats at their respective tables (all the tables have name tags). I say good morning to both. The more outgoing of the two, an American, asks where I am from and I reply New Zealand. Eleanor introduces herself and says she's been there, loves the place. We talk non-stop for the next thirty minutes or so about treatments and how we each came to be here.
The other woman "Eva" is Swedish and more reserved, she nods and smiles and add's information to the conversation as Eleanor asks it of her. We talked about the poor internet service and I tell them that I manage to get online about half the time. Both are immediately envious as neither can connect. Eleanor asked if I could visit her room and take a look at her computer. I told her that the problem is downstairs with the server and that I don't think the guy that they have "fixing" it has a clue.
I finish my breakfast, bid the ladies good morning and return to my room, meeting Dr Kopic on the stairs. He follows me to my room and we both seat ourselves at my writing desk as we do every morning where we discuss the days treatment plan. Today is a rest day, it's raining anyway so I have an excuse to stay in and read my book. Dr Kopic tells me that he has decided to start chemotherapy tomorrow once my monocytes have recovered enough to reduce the chances of infection.
I asked him how he came to decide on what drugs to use when the results aren't in from Greece yet? He said that he has been in discussion with the German Hodgkins study group (the recognised world leaders in Hodgkins research) and that they have suggested the drugs dexanethasone, Alexan (Cytarabine) and Cisplatin.
Cisplatin and Cytarabine cause damage to a cell's DNA ultimately resulting in it's death (cell necrosis) Healthy cells can repair their DNA, cancer cells cannot and therefore die. Possible side effects include kidney damage, hearing loss and more worryingly bone marrow suppression. The other drug Dexanethansone is a power anti-inflammatory, 6 times more potent than prednisone.
I'm expecting to be quite ill from these drugs, I guess the posts might be a bit shorter after tomorrow. We shall see :)
After Dr Kopic left I started researching the drugs, how they work and what to expect. It's not fun reading, but then again this has got to be better than high dose chemo.
There's a knock at the door and Eleanor pops her head inside and exclaims in her American accent "Ooh I just love your room!" and proceeds to inspect every nook and cranny, saying that hers is nowhere near as nice. She see's that I'm online and again voices her annoyance that she cannot connect. She leaves just as fast as she appeared.
There's another knock at the door..Christine the office manager pops in to say that Eleanor had "volunteered" me to take a look at the clinics computer network and see if I can't fix it. I told her that I'd have no problem if I could read German to understand the info on the screens, but I'd take a look later anyway.. Perhaps it's a simple fix. Later when I went downstairs she said that the technicians were coming and not to worry. They have been out 4 times this week already.
It's still raining outside, so I have nothing planned for the rest of the day other than to consume two ham and tomato sandwiches for lunch made for me by Stephanie in the kitchen, have three IV infusions of what ever they have chosen to give me today, and to read my book. (in actuality I slept most of the afternoon)
Expect an abridged blow by blow guide to how my body reacts to the administering of highly cytotoxic chemicals tomorrow.
..Ron
Day 4: A walk through.
I woke early this morning, 5:30am, couldn't sleep. Got up and turned on the laptop and headed for the bathroom to my plastic bottles for the final weigh in.
1.6 liters, Yay ! That's got to be a personal best, worthy of a Gold medal.
(Gee I live a pitiful existence! Finding personal satisfaction from urinating in bottles.
I'm starting to relate to Howard Hughes.)
Germany is ten hours behind New Zealand so I thought I'd see what was happening at work..
Oh No.. I have to stop and tell you dinner just arrived.. Spinach Soup, oh.. Salmon chunks on Pasta with a white wine sauce.. hmm , not sure on the desert.. aah rhubarb and berries with cream.
I guess it could have been worse... No goat cheese croutons in the soup tonight..
You are not going to believe this.. The spinach soup is delicious! It tastes a bit like pea soup only dare I say it.. better. Argh whats happening to me, they must be putting something in my food.. oh wait a minute.. now I'm really confused.. putting something in the food to make it taste good?!
What a cunning bunch these Germans are! THEY THINK OF EVERYTHING!!
..work, I fired up the webcam and took a lot to see how Kurt was doing holding the fort.
Not much happening there, Kurt tells me it's still quiet out there. Next week looks better though.
OK what else could I do at that time of day?
It turns out not a lot, so I showered, watched some TV and went to breakfast. On my return the nurse whose name I have not yet memorised came into my room pulling on a pair of latex gloves as she entered, and asked for my urine. I proudly pointed to the two almost full bottles on the shelf. She picked up the two empty ones and gave me a disapproving look. Surely, I thought to myself, she had to be taking the piss in more ways that one?
Shortly after that Dr Glonti popped into my room and dropped off a consent form for me to sign.
Something about Newcastle disease bird virus's and accepting the risks.. blah, blah.. I thought to myself, "What's the worse that could happen? hospitalised with a life threatening case of feather moult?"
Even so I thought I'd better go downstairs and talk to Christine, the English born office manager, and see if she could explain the bird thingy to me.
Turns out it's all part of the dendritic vaccine treatment, somehow it all got lost in the translation.
Feather moult only occurs in extremely rare occasions she told me. I signed the form and Dr G said he would call me in a few minutes to start Mono-Apheresis.
An hour goes by and finally Dr G phones and asks that I come downstairs.
Dr Glonti is Georgian, in his early 30's and speaks 4 languages. His uniform is casual, a white tee-shirt and blue jeans. His English is poor and he speaks very slowly as he searches for each word. His German is fluent but slower than his colleagues. When he speaks in Georgian he barely has time to breath, each sentence sounding like one continuous word. (I'm told he also speaks Russian, but begrudgedly.)
I locate him in a different room than the one from yesterday. As I enter I instantly recognise the equipment as being similar to, but a lot more modern than that found in the apheresis room at Wellington hospital. I lay on the bed and he prepares to insert two cannula lines into my needle shy arms. Years ago the veins in my arms would stand out like river deltas if I made a fist. These days after hundreds of blood tests, IV lines and chemotherapy they hide away deep beneath my skin.
Dr G Can't find a suitable vein in my left arm, just manages to find one in my right and calls in the assistance of Dr Kopic to locate one in my neck.
(You may remember the horrific time I had when a surgeon at Wgtn hospital attempted to install a hard line in my neck for stem cell harvesting two years ago.) The type of line they are installing is much smaller despite doing exactly the same job as the one fitted on that occasion.
Dr K asks me to take a deep breath and 'push' . I feel a sting and some discomfort but the line is in.
Thin clear plastic tubes are connected to the two cannulas, one in and one out. The tubes run to the apheresis machine. It has four pumps, these rotate and squeeze the tubes in a rolling motion to move the blood along without it ever coming into contact with any mechanical parts. The tubes and collection bags are all one big disposable sealed system. Blood is then centrifuged into it's components of plasma, monocytes etc. It is the monocytes that we are collecting, the rest is returned to me in a continuous cycle.
The entire blood volume in my body goes through the machine 10 times before the process is complete. I have to lay completely still as the line in my neck constantly comes into contact with the wall of the vein it's inserted into, causing it to block, like a vacuum cleaner does on a rug.
This sets off an alarm and Dr G constantly adjusts both the position of the lines and my neck in an attempt to regain a clear flow. The process took around 4 hours and the alarm went off more than a hundred times. Despite never losing his patience, Dr G expressed his frustration in all four of his spoken languages.
The pain for me was intense, not from the procedure, but from the pinched nerve in my neck that both ached at the shoulder and left my hand completely numb. Eventually my feet got cramp and my full bladder became extremely uncomfortable. I've been through it all before and ultimately you get through it, I just focused on getting back to my room and relaxing.
So that was day 4, Tomorrow I think I'll read my book on where Under-Pants come from. I need a day off.
Night all.
1.6 liters, Yay ! That's got to be a personal best, worthy of a Gold medal.
(Gee I live a pitiful existence! Finding personal satisfaction from urinating in bottles.
I'm starting to relate to Howard Hughes.)
Germany is ten hours behind New Zealand so I thought I'd see what was happening at work..
Oh No.. I have to stop and tell you dinner just arrived.. Spinach Soup, oh.. Salmon chunks on Pasta with a white wine sauce.. hmm , not sure on the desert.. aah rhubarb and berries with cream.
I guess it could have been worse... No goat cheese croutons in the soup tonight..
You are not going to believe this.. The spinach soup is delicious! It tastes a bit like pea soup only dare I say it.. better. Argh whats happening to me, they must be putting something in my food.. oh wait a minute.. now I'm really confused.. putting something in the food to make it taste good?!
What a cunning bunch these Germans are! THEY THINK OF EVERYTHING!!
..work, I fired up the webcam and took a lot to see how Kurt was doing holding the fort.
Not much happening there, Kurt tells me it's still quiet out there. Next week looks better though.
OK what else could I do at that time of day?
It turns out not a lot, so I showered, watched some TV and went to breakfast. On my return the nurse whose name I have not yet memorised came into my room pulling on a pair of latex gloves as she entered, and asked for my urine. I proudly pointed to the two almost full bottles on the shelf. She picked up the two empty ones and gave me a disapproving look. Surely, I thought to myself, she had to be taking the piss in more ways that one?
Shortly after that Dr Glonti popped into my room and dropped off a consent form for me to sign.
Something about Newcastle disease bird virus's and accepting the risks.. blah, blah.. I thought to myself, "What's the worse that could happen? hospitalised with a life threatening case of feather moult?"
Even so I thought I'd better go downstairs and talk to Christine, the English born office manager, and see if she could explain the bird thingy to me.
Turns out it's all part of the dendritic vaccine treatment, somehow it all got lost in the translation.
Feather moult only occurs in extremely rare occasions she told me. I signed the form and Dr G said he would call me in a few minutes to start Mono-Apheresis.
An hour goes by and finally Dr G phones and asks that I come downstairs.
Dr Glonti is Georgian, in his early 30's and speaks 4 languages. His uniform is casual, a white tee-shirt and blue jeans. His English is poor and he speaks very slowly as he searches for each word. His German is fluent but slower than his colleagues. When he speaks in Georgian he barely has time to breath, each sentence sounding like one continuous word. (I'm told he also speaks Russian, but begrudgedly.)
I locate him in a different room than the one from yesterday. As I enter I instantly recognise the equipment as being similar to, but a lot more modern than that found in the apheresis room at Wellington hospital. I lay on the bed and he prepares to insert two cannula lines into my needle shy arms. Years ago the veins in my arms would stand out like river deltas if I made a fist. These days after hundreds of blood tests, IV lines and chemotherapy they hide away deep beneath my skin.
Dr G Can't find a suitable vein in my left arm, just manages to find one in my right and calls in the assistance of Dr Kopic to locate one in my neck.
(You may remember the horrific time I had when a surgeon at Wgtn hospital attempted to install a hard line in my neck for stem cell harvesting two years ago.) The type of line they are installing is much smaller despite doing exactly the same job as the one fitted on that occasion.
Dr K asks me to take a deep breath and 'push' . I feel a sting and some discomfort but the line is in.
Thin clear plastic tubes are connected to the two cannulas, one in and one out. The tubes run to the apheresis machine. It has four pumps, these rotate and squeeze the tubes in a rolling motion to move the blood along without it ever coming into contact with any mechanical parts. The tubes and collection bags are all one big disposable sealed system. Blood is then centrifuged into it's components of plasma, monocytes etc. It is the monocytes that we are collecting, the rest is returned to me in a continuous cycle.
The entire blood volume in my body goes through the machine 10 times before the process is complete. I have to lay completely still as the line in my neck constantly comes into contact with the wall of the vein it's inserted into, causing it to block, like a vacuum cleaner does on a rug.
This sets off an alarm and Dr G constantly adjusts both the position of the lines and my neck in an attempt to regain a clear flow. The process took around 4 hours and the alarm went off more than a hundred times. Despite never losing his patience, Dr G expressed his frustration in all four of his spoken languages.
The pain for me was intense, not from the procedure, but from the pinched nerve in my neck that both ached at the shoulder and left my hand completely numb. Eventually my feet got cramp and my full bladder became extremely uncomfortable. I've been through it all before and ultimately you get through it, I just focused on getting back to my room and relaxing.
So that was day 4, Tomorrow I think I'll read my book on where Under-Pants come from. I need a day off.
Night all.
Dendritic cells, Bird Flu, Monocytes and me.
Now sit up straight and pay attention, I'm only go to say this once. (Mainly because I've only just got my head around it all and I'll have forgotten most of it by the time you read this)
Another of the reasons for yesterday's barbecue a'la Ron was to fool my immune system into thinking I was running a fever and therefore under attack from some invading force.
This then caused my bone marrow to produce large numbers of monocytes.
A Monocyte is a type of leukocyte, part of the human body's immune system. Monocytes have two main functions in the immune system: (1) replenish resident macrophages and dendritic cells . (2) in response to inflammation signals, such as being cooked in a pizza oven, monocytes move quickly to sites of infection and divide into macrophages and dendritic cells. Like soldiers in the fight against an invading foe.
Although Dendritic Cells are potent cells, there is not usually a large enough quantity to allow for an effective immune response in disease such as cancer. Still with me?
Today we harvested those monocytes and they have been sent away for processing in a laboratory to produce huge numbers of Dendritic Cells. In eight days time these will be given back to me in order to allow massive Dendritic participation in optimally activating my immune system against my cancer.
Ok nearly done.. It gets better. Scientists recently discovered that a certain variant of an avian virus, Newcastle Disease Virus (That's a bird flu to you and I) that is fatal in birds yet harmless to humans, has a very neat little trick up it's sleeve when it is introduced to mammals (that's us).
The virus, (do I need to explain how virus's work?) seeks out cancer cells, invading and destroying them while leaving normal cells unharmed. Once all the cancer cells have been destroyed the virus no longer has a host and expires. Scientists don't fully understand the process behind it but there are several theories, none of which I need go into.
I will be receiving this virus in conjunction with the Dendritic cell vaccine.
Basically this is just one of the treatments that I will be receiving here at the clinic. Add to that the possibility of antibody treatment once the blood samples sent to Greece are analysed, plus the tailored chemotherapy, we are going to be hitting my lymphoma hard from several fronts.
If the above treatment sounds a bit radical, it is. This clinic is one of only a handful in Germany and indeed the world that is licenced to administer it. It's cutting edge stuff. Look for it at your local NZ hospital in about 10 years.
OK enough boring medical stuff.. I'll tell you about the gory bits in the next (short) post.
Another of the reasons for yesterday's barbecue a'la Ron was to fool my immune system into thinking I was running a fever and therefore under attack from some invading force.
This then caused my bone marrow to produce large numbers of monocytes.
A Monocyte is a type of leukocyte, part of the human body's immune system. Monocytes have two main functions in the immune system: (1) replenish resident macrophages and dendritic cells . (2) in response to inflammation signals, such as being cooked in a pizza oven, monocytes move quickly to sites of infection and divide into macrophages and dendritic cells. Like soldiers in the fight against an invading foe.
Although Dendritic Cells are potent cells, there is not usually a large enough quantity to allow for an effective immune response in disease such as cancer. Still with me?
Today we harvested those monocytes and they have been sent away for processing in a laboratory to produce huge numbers of Dendritic Cells. In eight days time these will be given back to me in order to allow massive Dendritic participation in optimally activating my immune system against my cancer.
Ok nearly done.. It gets better. Scientists recently discovered that a certain variant of an avian virus, Newcastle Disease Virus (That's a bird flu to you and I) that is fatal in birds yet harmless to humans, has a very neat little trick up it's sleeve when it is introduced to mammals (that's us).
The virus, (do I need to explain how virus's work?) seeks out cancer cells, invading and destroying them while leaving normal cells unharmed. Once all the cancer cells have been destroyed the virus no longer has a host and expires. Scientists don't fully understand the process behind it but there are several theories, none of which I need go into.
I will be receiving this virus in conjunction with the Dendritic cell vaccine.
Basically this is just one of the treatments that I will be receiving here at the clinic. Add to that the possibility of antibody treatment once the blood samples sent to Greece are analysed, plus the tailored chemotherapy, we are going to be hitting my lymphoma hard from several fronts.
If the above treatment sounds a bit radical, it is. This clinic is one of only a handful in Germany and indeed the world that is licenced to administer it. It's cutting edge stuff. Look for it at your local NZ hospital in about 10 years.
OK enough boring medical stuff.. I'll tell you about the gory bits in the next (short) post.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
The beginners guide to Thermotherapy and rectal probes.
Earlier as I entered the clinic following my hunt for soap and shampoo I was greeted by one of the nurses, her name I have yet to memorise. She handed me four large plastic bottles and said something I could not quite comprehend, so she resorted to charades.
Clasping her hands together in what I initially thought was a fairly good golfing pose she indicated to me that I was to "wee wee" into the bottles for the next 24 hours.
How the heck she thinks I could possibly fill four one litre bottles in a day and for what reason I have no idea. So far 8 hours later, I've only managed about 150ml. I may need to cheat to preserve my manhood. (I wonder if the Asparagus soup from tonight's dinner will suffice).
.JPG)
Dr Glonti phoned and asked that I meet him downstairs. I took a quick pee in one of the bottles and headed down, I'm gonna crack 200ml if it kills me!
Downstairs could be anywhere in this place, it's a rabbit warren. I asked the girl in the office where I might find Dr G and she led me down into the bowels of the building to a room fitted out with what looked like an over-sized pizza oven and a bath. I had a feeling things were going to get weird, just how weird I had no idea!
Dr G sat me down and explained how Thermotherapy worked to help kill cancer cells by heating them to 39C. (The observation, that cancer patients who experienced a feverish period after surgery survived significantly longer than patients without fever and the fact, that spontaneous tumor remission was observed mostly after a fever period, was the rationale behind the therapy).
Anyway I digress, I was asked to completely disrobe while Dr G ran me a nice hot bath, complete with bubbles and scented with pine. This was starting to all look very cosy.
I got into the bath and soaked for about 20 minutes in water that was probably hot enough to add goat cheese croutons and call it a soup.
Dr G asked me to remove myself from the water and position myself in the 'pizza oven'.
An IV saline drip was connected to the cannula I have permanently inserted in my arm.
He then attached various sensors all around my body. One to my right ear for monitoring my oxygen levels, ECG leads to my chest, a band around my right arm to monitor blood pressure, then a clip to my left index finger for heart rate.
I wondered to myself how he was planning to monitor my temperature.
It's at this point our cosy little 'date' (and I use the word deliberately) took a turn for the worse.
Out came a long cable, running in one direction to one of those machines that go 'bing' and in the other direction to a 100mm long probe that looked suspiciously like it had been coated in KY jelly. I took a deep breath and thought of home.
After being wrapped in several towels, he zipped up the sides of the chamber and flicked the four switches that turned on the infra-red heat lamps. My head was mercifully left outside the chamber, protruding from an opening in the thick blue padding that made up the sides of my prison. A fan was aimed at my face for comfort, making the hair in my noise tickle.
Every ten minutes the doctor would take my blood pressure and write down the various readings from my many probes. If I twisted my head around I could just see the machine that went "bing" and I watched the temperature slowly rise to 39C. I can honestly say this was the hottest 'date' I've ever had!
Once we achieved 39C the covers were removed from the machine and I was zipped in a thick silver thermal blanket and left to baste in my own sweat for another 30 minutes or so. Oddly my temperature continued to climb, peaking at 39.2 and remaining there for quite some time. The Doctor had told me that if at any time did I feel uncomfortable he would stop the treatment, I wished he had said that before, rather than after the insertion of the temperature probe!
I think all those lazy nights spent in our spa pool back home have conditioned me to the heat because it really wasn't all that bad.
Dr G gave me instructions on how much water to drink (got to fill those bottles), when to eat and to go back to my room and lay down for two hours. (There was no mention of hot showers and endless scrubbing).
I walked slowly upstairs, entered my room, carefully sat down and began to write my blog..
Clasping her hands together in what I initially thought was a fairly good golfing pose she indicated to me that I was to "wee wee" into the bottles for the next 24 hours.
How the heck she thinks I could possibly fill four one litre bottles in a day and for what reason I have no idea. So far 8 hours later, I've only managed about 150ml. I may need to cheat to preserve my manhood. (I wonder if the Asparagus soup from tonight's dinner will suffice).
.JPG)
Dr Glonti phoned and asked that I meet him downstairs. I took a quick pee in one of the bottles and headed down, I'm gonna crack 200ml if it kills me!
Downstairs could be anywhere in this place, it's a rabbit warren. I asked the girl in the office where I might find Dr G and she led me down into the bowels of the building to a room fitted out with what looked like an over-sized pizza oven and a bath. I had a feeling things were going to get weird, just how weird I had no idea!
Dr G sat me down and explained how Thermotherapy worked to help kill cancer cells by heating them to 39C. (The observation, that cancer patients who experienced a feverish period after surgery survived significantly longer than patients without fever and the fact, that spontaneous tumor remission was observed mostly after a fever period, was the rationale behind the therapy).
Anyway I digress, I was asked to completely disrobe while Dr G ran me a nice hot bath, complete with bubbles and scented with pine. This was starting to all look very cosy.
I got into the bath and soaked for about 20 minutes in water that was probably hot enough to add goat cheese croutons and call it a soup.
Dr G asked me to remove myself from the water and position myself in the 'pizza oven'.
An IV saline drip was connected to the cannula I have permanently inserted in my arm.
He then attached various sensors all around my body. One to my right ear for monitoring my oxygen levels, ECG leads to my chest, a band around my right arm to monitor blood pressure, then a clip to my left index finger for heart rate.
I wondered to myself how he was planning to monitor my temperature.
It's at this point our cosy little 'date' (and I use the word deliberately) took a turn for the worse.
Out came a long cable, running in one direction to one of those machines that go 'bing' and in the other direction to a 100mm long probe that looked suspiciously like it had been coated in KY jelly. I took a deep breath and thought of home.
After being wrapped in several towels, he zipped up the sides of the chamber and flicked the four switches that turned on the infra-red heat lamps. My head was mercifully left outside the chamber, protruding from an opening in the thick blue padding that made up the sides of my prison. A fan was aimed at my face for comfort, making the hair in my noise tickle.
Every ten minutes the doctor would take my blood pressure and write down the various readings from my many probes. If I twisted my head around I could just see the machine that went "bing" and I watched the temperature slowly rise to 39C. I can honestly say this was the hottest 'date' I've ever had!
Once we achieved 39C the covers were removed from the machine and I was zipped in a thick silver thermal blanket and left to baste in my own sweat for another 30 minutes or so. Oddly my temperature continued to climb, peaking at 39.2 and remaining there for quite some time. The Doctor had told me that if at any time did I feel uncomfortable he would stop the treatment, I wished he had said that before, rather than after the insertion of the temperature probe!
I think all those lazy nights spent in our spa pool back home have conditioned me to the heat because it really wasn't all that bad.
Dr G gave me instructions on how much water to drink (got to fill those bottles), when to eat and to go back to my room and lay down for two hours. (There was no mention of hot showers and endless scrubbing).
I walked slowly upstairs, entered my room, carefully sat down and began to write my blog..
Day 3, the hunt for soap and happiness.
Feeling a little flat today.
Started well, I slept right through the night for the first time, 9 1/2 hours in total.
Had breakfast, cornflakes and toast. Then headed off in search of a chemist or shop in the village that sold shampoo and soap.
This really is a quaint little place, they appear to put a lot of effort into keeping everything in true Bavarian style. Narrow lanes dotted with beautiful guest houses and cafes all built to the Bavarian style of block or concrete ground floor with timber used on the floors above. They are generally painted with ornate trim and pictures of cherubs, historical or religious themes.
I found a little 'Apotheke' or Pharmacy on the main road and enquired of the woman behind the counter if she spoke English. She pinched her finger and thumb together and said "just a little".
Luckily the German word for Shampoo is, umm, shampoo and the word for soap "seife" is close enough not be confused for any of the more embarrassing things one finds at a chemists.
I paid the lady 10.95Euro (about $25) for what was probably the most expensive brands on the market, but I wasn't going to argue. Twirling my little white plastic bag of hygiene products I headed out the door for a bit more sight seeing before I returned to the Klinik.
I think the most paradoxical thing I've seen was the cigarette dispensing machine in the middle of no-where. Here I was, strolling around a region renowned for it's 2200 private health spas and there stuck next to a paddock of cows is a cancer dispensing machine. I tell you these Germans certainly know their target market, it's either cows, or they have an overly developed concept of irony, perhaps both.
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I returned home having taken a few dozen happy snaps and was greeted by Dr Kopic and a new face, that of Dr Glonti. They told me that they were sending my stem cells back to NZ.
My heart sunk, Sarah and I have put so much time, effort and money into getting them here it's hard not to feel like somehow there's an element of failure in it all.
Couple that with the more off than on internet connection that is proving to be a cause of great stress in that it always seems to go down just when Sarah pops online to chat before she heads off to bed. Today it caused endless problems at a time we both really needed to talk.
Hence the crappy start to the day.
I think I'll post this now, along with the cigarette machine pic and tell you about today's treatment later. Once I've cheered myself up.
Started well, I slept right through the night for the first time, 9 1/2 hours in total.
Had breakfast, cornflakes and toast. Then headed off in search of a chemist or shop in the village that sold shampoo and soap.
This really is a quaint little place, they appear to put a lot of effort into keeping everything in true Bavarian style. Narrow lanes dotted with beautiful guest houses and cafes all built to the Bavarian style of block or concrete ground floor with timber used on the floors above. They are generally painted with ornate trim and pictures of cherubs, historical or religious themes.
I found a little 'Apotheke' or Pharmacy on the main road and enquired of the woman behind the counter if she spoke English. She pinched her finger and thumb together and said "just a little".
Luckily the German word for Shampoo is, umm, shampoo and the word for soap "seife" is close enough not be confused for any of the more embarrassing things one finds at a chemists.
I paid the lady 10.95Euro (about $25) for what was probably the most expensive brands on the market, but I wasn't going to argue. Twirling my little white plastic bag of hygiene products I headed out the door for a bit more sight seeing before I returned to the Klinik.
I think the most paradoxical thing I've seen was the cigarette dispensing machine in the middle of no-where. Here I was, strolling around a region renowned for it's 2200 private health spas and there stuck next to a paddock of cows is a cancer dispensing machine. I tell you these Germans certainly know their target market, it's either cows, or they have an overly developed concept of irony, perhaps both.
.JPG)
I returned home having taken a few dozen happy snaps and was greeted by Dr Kopic and a new face, that of Dr Glonti. They told me that they were sending my stem cells back to NZ.
My heart sunk, Sarah and I have put so much time, effort and money into getting them here it's hard not to feel like somehow there's an element of failure in it all.
Couple that with the more off than on internet connection that is proving to be a cause of great stress in that it always seems to go down just when Sarah pops online to chat before she heads off to bed. Today it caused endless problems at a time we both really needed to talk.
Hence the crappy start to the day.
I think I'll post this now, along with the cigarette machine pic and tell you about today's treatment later. Once I've cheered myself up.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
and on a lighter note..
Lets talk about the food again..
I just ate dinner, it was quite nice, although I have no idea what it was.
However I feel the same tummy ache coming on that I suffered last night.
The Germans love mixing fruit with meat, and nuts with vegetables.. vegetables that I've never even heard of let alone considered eating. Perhaps it's a legacy of the hardship faced by European peasant farmers down through the centuries. Forced to eat what ever grew, Turnips, barley, oats etc..
Tomorrows menu includes such delicacies as "Celery cream soup with peanuts", "Red onion soup with Goat cheese croutons" and my all time favorite "Broccoli Soup". Oh yum.
Tomorrow I have to go on a mission into the village to buy some soap and shampoo, I forgot to pack any and the clinic does not provide them. Should be interesting conversing with the shop keepers.
Actually most of the locals speak fluent English due to there having been a US military base here up until a few years back.
Oh gotta run... Tummy.
I just ate dinner, it was quite nice, although I have no idea what it was.
However I feel the same tummy ache coming on that I suffered last night.
The Germans love mixing fruit with meat, and nuts with vegetables.. vegetables that I've never even heard of let alone considered eating. Perhaps it's a legacy of the hardship faced by European peasant farmers down through the centuries. Forced to eat what ever grew, Turnips, barley, oats etc..
Tomorrows menu includes such delicacies as "Celery cream soup with peanuts", "Red onion soup with Goat cheese croutons" and my all time favorite "Broccoli Soup". Oh yum.
Tomorrow I have to go on a mission into the village to buy some soap and shampoo, I forgot to pack any and the clinic does not provide them. Should be interesting conversing with the shop keepers.
Actually most of the locals speak fluent English due to there having been a US military base here up until a few years back.
Oh gotta run... Tummy.
The word from above..
You'll have to excuse me I'm in lots of pain. I have run out of paracetamol and therefore have been unable to keep to my back pain control regime.
The Doctors don't seem to believe that such a basic painkiller could be so effective, and have in their wisdom given me 800mg of ibuprofen, it ain't helping I can tell you that much.
Lets go back a few hours.. I had my meeting with the two senior Doctors and they gave me some news that was at first disappointing but then once we talked it through could well be the best news I've had in years.
Dr Kopic does not believe that I should have high dose chemo with stem cell support.
He said that at this stage he does not think I have refractory disease, but rather the previous treatments have been almost successful but not quite. What we need is a chemotherapy regime that is tailored to my specific cancer cell type. (Treatment in NZ was just a case of using what they have always done)
The blood test from Greece could take a week or two to show up which drugs will work best.
To back that up, and also get an idea of the state of my bone marrow, I had a bone marrow biopsy performed today. They insisted on giving me a general to do it, I told them that I'd had three before with no pain management. They said that was crazy. However Dr Kopic started the procedure before I went under, so I did suffer that horrible pain from the reamer for a short time.
I awoke completely confused, I hate that.. no idea of time, place or situation.
The biopsy will also help decide on what drugs will have the least affect on my rather fragile marrow and also show if I have bone involvement.
When I got the PET scan CD from Pacific Radiology last week I couldn't help but boot it up and take a look at the images. It's a fantastic thing to be able to "fly" down through thousands of images of your own body and see what all the fuss is about. One thing that I noticed on just a couple of the images was an area of activity in my pelvis. It was just a faint glow of green and yellow.
Myself being a layman I just assumed that the experts at Pacific had seen it and thought nothing of it. However Dr Kopic also saw it when he reviewed the images and is concerned enough to send the marrow from my pelvis off for testing for HL involvement. That's a complication I don't want to consider right now.
OK so we don't do High dose and SCT, what does that mean to me? My Instant thought was I've wasted my time. Gone through all this for nothing. All that hassle to get my stem cells here.
I fired several questions at Dr Kopic who answered in German and let Dr D translate.
He said this is good news. High dose would leave me with a lifetime of health problems and severely affect my overall well being.
Finding the right low dose chemo gives us the opportunity to finally beat these last few remaining tumours. We would combine that with Dendritic cell vaccines and possible antibody therapy depending on those blood results. All of this, if successful would afford me a quality of life similar to what I have previously enjoyed. (If I could just undo the radiation damage! grr)
Ok so the next thought is am I in the right place? This all costs a lot of money. Why not go home for this. Well remember Wgtn has given up on me, they offered only palliative chemo and more radiation. Leonardis are saying this is treatable and are very confidant. They say that with my stem cells in frozen storage here, we still have all our options open for the future.
No other treatment center in the world is going to give patient specific, targeted treatment at a level such as they are doing for me.
Oddly this brings me to what I did for lunch.. Sarah asked me this morning if I had met any of the other patients. I said I hadn't even seen any other patients, but that I had been avoiding the restaurant at meal times and having room service. The staff said there are 15 other patients here at the moment.
So Sarah suggested I have lunch with the others today. I sat alone for most of the time, but then a German woman in her 50's wandered in and sat down at her table across the room from me.
I was not brave enough to try and make conversation, fearing that she only spoke German and I would just end up looking silly.
Then just as I was about to leave, in perfect English she asked if I had only just arrived.
We talked across the room for a while and then I asked if I could sit with her.
Zelinder introduced herself and asked how I came to be here at the Klinik.
I told her my story and she was shocked by what she heard. She said "you have come to the right place". "I have been fighting non-Hodgkins Lymphoma for ten years, I have been to America, been involved in clinical trials that nearly killed me, only this place has had any success.
Twice I have been told to go home to die, twice the doctors here have proved them wrong"
She apologized for her poor English, for her to say so would be akin to the Pope apologising for his poor Latin. She spoke with no accent and with a huge vocabulary. Zelinder assured me that no where else in the world would I receive better treatment. I got the impression that she was a woman of considerable means. Yes I'm in the right place, any reservations I may have had have evaporated.
My back pain has almost resolved, just feels like an everyday back-ache now, I guess the Doctors just might know a thing or two. (Mental note 1x 800mg Ibuprofen is 4x Nurofen.)
I told the doctors that I believed that high dose vitamin C was responsible for the lymphoma on my neck completley resolving last march before radiation treatment began. I also said that the 9000mg I am currently taking each day in tablet form is responsible for the huge improvement in my health in the last month or so since reintroducing it again.
Unlike the doctors in NZ who would have rubbished the idea and given me a patronising smirk, The doctors here have started me on a 7500mg IV of vitamin C. If you get the chance do some reading on the subject, there have been some incredible stories of people being cured of all sorts of ailments including cancer by taking this vitamin in large quantities. Make sure you take the calcium Ascorbate version though.
The Doctors don't seem to believe that such a basic painkiller could be so effective, and have in their wisdom given me 800mg of ibuprofen, it ain't helping I can tell you that much.
Lets go back a few hours.. I had my meeting with the two senior Doctors and they gave me some news that was at first disappointing but then once we talked it through could well be the best news I've had in years.
Dr Kopic does not believe that I should have high dose chemo with stem cell support.
He said that at this stage he does not think I have refractory disease, but rather the previous treatments have been almost successful but not quite. What we need is a chemotherapy regime that is tailored to my specific cancer cell type. (Treatment in NZ was just a case of using what they have always done)
The blood test from Greece could take a week or two to show up which drugs will work best.
To back that up, and also get an idea of the state of my bone marrow, I had a bone marrow biopsy performed today. They insisted on giving me a general to do it, I told them that I'd had three before with no pain management. They said that was crazy. However Dr Kopic started the procedure before I went under, so I did suffer that horrible pain from the reamer for a short time.
I awoke completely confused, I hate that.. no idea of time, place or situation.
The biopsy will also help decide on what drugs will have the least affect on my rather fragile marrow and also show if I have bone involvement.
When I got the PET scan CD from Pacific Radiology last week I couldn't help but boot it up and take a look at the images. It's a fantastic thing to be able to "fly" down through thousands of images of your own body and see what all the fuss is about. One thing that I noticed on just a couple of the images was an area of activity in my pelvis. It was just a faint glow of green and yellow.
Myself being a layman I just assumed that the experts at Pacific had seen it and thought nothing of it. However Dr Kopic also saw it when he reviewed the images and is concerned enough to send the marrow from my pelvis off for testing for HL involvement. That's a complication I don't want to consider right now.
OK so we don't do High dose and SCT, what does that mean to me? My Instant thought was I've wasted my time. Gone through all this for nothing. All that hassle to get my stem cells here.
I fired several questions at Dr Kopic who answered in German and let Dr D translate.
He said this is good news. High dose would leave me with a lifetime of health problems and severely affect my overall well being.
Finding the right low dose chemo gives us the opportunity to finally beat these last few remaining tumours. We would combine that with Dendritic cell vaccines and possible antibody therapy depending on those blood results. All of this, if successful would afford me a quality of life similar to what I have previously enjoyed. (If I could just undo the radiation damage! grr)
Ok so the next thought is am I in the right place? This all costs a lot of money. Why not go home for this. Well remember Wgtn has given up on me, they offered only palliative chemo and more radiation. Leonardis are saying this is treatable and are very confidant. They say that with my stem cells in frozen storage here, we still have all our options open for the future.
No other treatment center in the world is going to give patient specific, targeted treatment at a level such as they are doing for me.
Oddly this brings me to what I did for lunch.. Sarah asked me this morning if I had met any of the other patients. I said I hadn't even seen any other patients, but that I had been avoiding the restaurant at meal times and having room service. The staff said there are 15 other patients here at the moment.
So Sarah suggested I have lunch with the others today. I sat alone for most of the time, but then a German woman in her 50's wandered in and sat down at her table across the room from me.
I was not brave enough to try and make conversation, fearing that she only spoke German and I would just end up looking silly.
Then just as I was about to leave, in perfect English she asked if I had only just arrived.
We talked across the room for a while and then I asked if I could sit with her.
Zelinder introduced herself and asked how I came to be here at the Klinik.
I told her my story and she was shocked by what she heard. She said "you have come to the right place". "I have been fighting non-Hodgkins Lymphoma for ten years, I have been to America, been involved in clinical trials that nearly killed me, only this place has had any success.
Twice I have been told to go home to die, twice the doctors here have proved them wrong"
She apologized for her poor English, for her to say so would be akin to the Pope apologising for his poor Latin. She spoke with no accent and with a huge vocabulary. Zelinder assured me that no where else in the world would I receive better treatment. I got the impression that she was a woman of considerable means. Yes I'm in the right place, any reservations I may have had have evaporated.
My back pain has almost resolved, just feels like an everyday back-ache now, I guess the Doctors just might know a thing or two. (Mental note 1x 800mg Ibuprofen is 4x Nurofen.)
I told the doctors that I believed that high dose vitamin C was responsible for the lymphoma on my neck completley resolving last march before radiation treatment began. I also said that the 9000mg I am currently taking each day in tablet form is responsible for the huge improvement in my health in the last month or so since reintroducing it again.
Unlike the doctors in NZ who would have rubbished the idea and given me a patronising smirk, The doctors here have started me on a 7500mg IV of vitamin C. If you get the chance do some reading on the subject, there have been some incredible stories of people being cured of all sorts of ailments including cancer by taking this vitamin in large quantities. Make sure you take the calcium Ascorbate version though.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
It's the little things that count..
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OK so the toilet paper here is not exactly what you'd call soft, but I was somewhat impressed to find that you could press a button above the toilet roll and get "Not Ruff" paper delivered by a team of doctors pushing a crash cart! That was until I discovered it wasn't a spelling mistake, but that "Notruf" is German for Emergency!
Would have been a good yarn had it been true.. But I did get the full turnout of doctors and nurses racing to my room in under 10 seconds this morning when I unplugged the phone cord and set off the notruf alarm. They were very good about it.. there I was sitting on my bed holding a cable in one hand, laptop in the other, looking very sheepish.
I have the big meeting with the docs in a few minutes, plus some ECG tests and an ultrasound.. shall post the results soon.
Day one continues..
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A lot can happen in an hour. Add to that the curious situation of having a body that thinks it's 7:30 in the morning when it's 9:30 at night and you get an inkling of my topsy turvy little world.
Dr Drasynski came in while I was hitting "send" on my last post. He said he came by earlier in the day but I was asleep, so he left me alone..
..Hilarious side issue.. while typing this a phone started to ring in my room, I looked around and saw that the Dr had left his phone behind. I answered it but the person did not speak English.. here I am saying "phone is in room 37" and the other person is talking flat out in German. I hang up. They phone back.. same result.
So I phoned the nurse and told him, he came up and we just had a 20 minute conversation about life, 16 y/o daughters (That's you Ashleigh) and places in the world to live. Really nice guy. Marcus would be about 45, is tall and with short grey hair.
OK back to Dr Drasynski. As I said, he came by, we discussed my medical history and he took a page of notes. He had not been forwarded the medical records I had sent, but was working from a basic email I had written right back when I first enquired.
He seems to have gotten used to my accent, or maybe I'm speaking slower and clearer, which-ever it is has made communicating a lot easier. Dr D is very tall, mid 30's, wears basketball sneakers and seems a little awkward.. perhaps he's a basketballer by day and Dr by night.
Every single person I have met from the taxi driver to the doctors have all said they want to come to New Zealand. It seems to be the standard thing to say, perhaps it's a conversation starter, perhaps not.
With regards to the IV's. One is a special form of Selenium; another a special form of Vitamin D and Calcium; and lastly an Amino Acid mix to prevent chemo from causing liver problems, plus several other useful supplements are included. (yes I cut and pasted that).
Marcus has given me something for my stomach upset, I haven't taken it yet as it seems to have passed if you'll excuse the pun. I worry that if I drink his potion I may have to make a very quick trip to my bathroom sometime in the night. Luckily the room has an en suite :)
I have the TV running in the background. It's playing old dramas from the 80's, but at least they are in English. When I first turned it on I got "Home Improvement" only Tim the toolman Taylor spoke German as did Al. I changed the channel and found the ubiquitous "Simpsons" was screening. You guessed it.. in German! and no effort had been made to get the voices even close to the originals. Homer just sounded like Tim the toolman.. Hmmm probably was, how many voice-over guys can there be ?
Well it's time for me to go to bed. You guys will be on your way to work, and those of you that are reading this will probably do so while I sleep. I think some days you may see no new postings as the time difference combined with the internet dropping off all the time could mean some quite large gaps. But don't worry I'll text Sarah if there's anything important to tell.
Oh one last thing to gloat about... I tried sending email today but my ISP in NZ, Paradise, won't accept relayed emails, so rejects my attempt to send anything. I had no way of knowing who the clinic uses as an email gateway but took a punt, tried a few things and found that I can relay my email through their servers.. It works fine.. just hope they don't find out! And as Tim the Toolman Taylor would say.. "Sie können zu viel Energie nie haben" !!
Dr Drasynski came in while I was hitting "send" on my last post. He said he came by earlier in the day but I was asleep, so he left me alone..
..Hilarious side issue.. while typing this a phone started to ring in my room, I looked around and saw that the Dr had left his phone behind. I answered it but the person did not speak English.. here I am saying "phone is in room 37" and the other person is talking flat out in German. I hang up. They phone back.. same result.
So I phoned the nurse and told him, he came up and we just had a 20 minute conversation about life, 16 y/o daughters (That's you Ashleigh) and places in the world to live. Really nice guy. Marcus would be about 45, is tall and with short grey hair.
OK back to Dr Drasynski. As I said, he came by, we discussed my medical history and he took a page of notes. He had not been forwarded the medical records I had sent, but was working from a basic email I had written right back when I first enquired.
He seems to have gotten used to my accent, or maybe I'm speaking slower and clearer, which-ever it is has made communicating a lot easier. Dr D is very tall, mid 30's, wears basketball sneakers and seems a little awkward.. perhaps he's a basketballer by day and Dr by night.
Every single person I have met from the taxi driver to the doctors have all said they want to come to New Zealand. It seems to be the standard thing to say, perhaps it's a conversation starter, perhaps not.
With regards to the IV's. One is a special form of Selenium; another a special form of Vitamin D and Calcium; and lastly an Amino Acid mix to prevent chemo from causing liver problems, plus several other useful supplements are included. (yes I cut and pasted that).
Marcus has given me something for my stomach upset, I haven't taken it yet as it seems to have passed if you'll excuse the pun. I worry that if I drink his potion I may have to make a very quick trip to my bathroom sometime in the night. Luckily the room has an en suite :)
I have the TV running in the background. It's playing old dramas from the 80's, but at least they are in English. When I first turned it on I got "Home Improvement" only Tim the toolman Taylor spoke German as did Al. I changed the channel and found the ubiquitous "Simpsons" was screening. You guessed it.. in German! and no effort had been made to get the voices even close to the originals. Homer just sounded like Tim the toolman.. Hmmm probably was, how many voice-over guys can there be ?
Well it's time for me to go to bed. You guys will be on your way to work, and those of you that are reading this will probably do so while I sleep. I think some days you may see no new postings as the time difference combined with the internet dropping off all the time could mean some quite large gaps. But don't worry I'll text Sarah if there's anything important to tell.
Oh one last thing to gloat about... I tried sending email today but my ISP in NZ, Paradise, won't accept relayed emails, so rejects my attempt to send anything. I had no way of knowing who the clinic uses as an email gateway but took a punt, tried a few things and found that I can relay my email through their servers.. It works fine.. just hope they don't find out! And as Tim the Toolman Taylor would say.. "Sie können zu viel Energie nie haben" !!
(You can never have too much power!)
Goodnight all ! :)
Goodnight all ! :)
Day one summary.
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I saw the two main doctors today briefly, Dr Drasynski and Dr Kopic, Dr D speaks English very well but had difficulty understanding me, Dr Kopic just smiled and nodded at everything I said, even the things the other doctor asked me to repeat.
The nurses are much better, they apologise for their English but at the same time speak it better than a lot of Kiwis I could name.
I've had a cannula put in my left arm at the wrist. Today I had some "Infusions" from what I can tell one is Selenium, one was an "anti-oxidant" (probably vitamin C, I'll check tomorrow) and the last was some form of liver cleaning agent. I'll read the bottles tomorrow and see what Google has to say. They seem to be part of a standard daily regime that's included in the price. Whether they actually do anything who knows.
The doctor said he would come back at around 4pm, he didn't and I slept all afternoon apart from being awoken by an amazing electrical storm at about 5pm. I couldn't see the flashes but the noise was incredible. Huge crackling roars that went on for ages, oddly no rain fell.
The nurses are much better, they apologise for their English but at the same time speak it better than a lot of Kiwis I could name.
I've had a cannula put in my left arm at the wrist. Today I had some "Infusions" from what I can tell one is Selenium, one was an "anti-oxidant" (probably vitamin C, I'll check tomorrow) and the last was some form of liver cleaning agent. I'll read the bottles tomorrow and see what Google has to say. They seem to be part of a standard daily regime that's included in the price. Whether they actually do anything who knows.
The doctor said he would come back at around 4pm, he didn't and I slept all afternoon apart from being awoken by an amazing electrical storm at about 5pm. I couldn't see the flashes but the noise was incredible. Huge crackling roars that went on for ages, oddly no rain fell.
I was finally woken when the restaurant phoned to ask if I was coming down. I asked them to bring it up.
It's going to take me a while to get used to the food. I now know why you don't find any German restaurants, the food is very bland (even for hospital food) and weird.
Take tonight's dinner (someone please take it!) it was a brown watery barley soup with some celery floating in it. The taste was salty like soy sauce. That was followed by a triangle of grey steak accompanied by some carrot triangles and a wafer thin yellow thing that looked like melted cheese but tasted like, and was I'm told, potato.
Desert was barley balls floating in a sea of blackcurrant jam. Definitely an acquired taste.
20 minutes pass....
I've just had a wee turn, my digestive system is in turmoil, I've developed a stomach ache and have turned a shade of grey. Might be time to turn in for the night.
Tomorrow I see Dr Kopic, the nodding, smiling head haematologist from the brief visit earlier in the day. I'm told he is very good. Tomorrow he will have my blood test results and will discuss his treatment plan for me.
I just had to lay down for a few minutes and now that I have returned the wireless internet connection seems to have gone down. It's been doing it all day. I'll write some more and save it so I can publish it when I get back online.. if..
It's going to take me a while to get used to the food. I now know why you don't find any German restaurants, the food is very bland (even for hospital food) and weird.
Take tonight's dinner (someone please take it!) it was a brown watery barley soup with some celery floating in it. The taste was salty like soy sauce. That was followed by a triangle of grey steak accompanied by some carrot triangles and a wafer thin yellow thing that looked like melted cheese but tasted like, and was I'm told, potato.
Desert was barley balls floating in a sea of blackcurrant jam. Definitely an acquired taste.
20 minutes pass....
I've just had a wee turn, my digestive system is in turmoil, I've developed a stomach ache and have turned a shade of grey. Might be time to turn in for the night.
Tomorrow I see Dr Kopic, the nodding, smiling head haematologist from the brief visit earlier in the day. I'm told he is very good. Tomorrow he will have my blood test results and will discuss his treatment plan for me.
I just had to lay down for a few minutes and now that I have returned the wireless internet connection seems to have gone down. It's been doing it all day. I'll write some more and save it so I can publish it when I get back online.. if..
Monday, August 11, 2008
I'm here!!
Well I'm finally here! I've settled into my room, got the internet up and running, had some bloods taken for sending to Greece where they test to see what chemo drugs will work best, and now I'm just waiting for the Doctors to come and visit me for the first time.
While I'm waiting for that I'll tell you about the trip here.I don't like Hong Kong, I'm glad I'm out of there. Too many people, too much pollution and there are policemen everywhere you look. Combine that with the recorded voices that tell you to "mind your step" or "please stand clear"
in Cantonese and then English at every escalator, lift, or train door and you start to get paranoid that big brother really is watching.
The seating on the Lufthansa flight was worse than than Air New Zealand. The seats are even closer together and there is no LCD entertainment system built into your seat like Air NZ.
My legs kept falling asleep and I could not stretch them out far enough to regain any sort of comfort. I won't even try to discribe the yellow foam rubber they fed me for breakfast, apparently in Germany they call them scambled eggs!
Munich airport was a different story, really well laid out and because it was so early in the morning the place was empty. I found my battered, split and one wheeled suitcase on the carolsel. It looks like it's exited the back of the plane by parachute drop! I'd checked my luggage right thru from Wellington to Munich on saturday and I think it's been doing a bit of globe trotting of it's own. The case is toast, I'll need to buy a new one for the return journey.
The customs guy asked where I was staying, I told him Leonardis Klinik and he said "Proceed".There was no baggage check. I walked thru the green door and into the main foyer without a single security guard in site. There stood a guy who looked a lot like Graham McCall only older, he was holding a card that read "Mr Stanlan".I figured he meant me.
We jumped into his taxi, a yellow Mercedes station wagon, and sped off towards the Bavarian foothills. Now when I say "sped" I'm not kidding. He asked me what the speed limit was in NZ, I told him 100kph. He pointed at a large "X" on the overhead gantry above the road and said.. on this road there is no limit. He floored it. We sat on 180kph most of the way, speeding past every other car on the road, along side were open green pastures that reminded me of the Canterbury plains.
After driving for nearly an hour we eventually arrived at the Klinik. This region is incredibly beautiful, rolling green hills and little Bavarian villages dotted along the way. I must say that the air here is very clean and no different to that of NZ. Certainly no hazy grey blanket like HK.
Karen, I know you'll really appreciate this.. As we drove the last 200 metres up the private road to the Klinik, Crowded House came on the radio, the song... "Don't dream it's over". I was blown away.
I got here at about 7am, the kitchen staff where just setting up, and none of the medical staff were ready to see me.I was ushered into the dining room and given a choice of breakfasts from Cornflakes through to a mixed grill. I chose the cornflakes, fruit and yoghurt. The staff are so friendly and helpful. They keep apologising for their english but it's very good. Heck I can't say a word of German! (well I can but I'm too shy in case I get it wrong!).
While I'm waiting for that I'll tell you about the trip here.I don't like Hong Kong, I'm glad I'm out of there. Too many people, too much pollution and there are policemen everywhere you look. Combine that with the recorded voices that tell you to "mind your step" or "please stand clear"
in Cantonese and then English at every escalator, lift, or train door and you start to get paranoid that big brother really is watching.
The seating on the Lufthansa flight was worse than than Air New Zealand. The seats are even closer together and there is no LCD entertainment system built into your seat like Air NZ.
My legs kept falling asleep and I could not stretch them out far enough to regain any sort of comfort. I won't even try to discribe the yellow foam rubber they fed me for breakfast, apparently in Germany they call them scambled eggs!
Munich airport was a different story, really well laid out and because it was so early in the morning the place was empty. I found my battered, split and one wheeled suitcase on the carolsel. It looks like it's exited the back of the plane by parachute drop! I'd checked my luggage right thru from Wellington to Munich on saturday and I think it's been doing a bit of globe trotting of it's own. The case is toast, I'll need to buy a new one for the return journey.
The customs guy asked where I was staying, I told him Leonardis Klinik and he said "Proceed".There was no baggage check. I walked thru the green door and into the main foyer without a single security guard in site. There stood a guy who looked a lot like Graham McCall only older, he was holding a card that read "Mr Stanlan".I figured he meant me.
We jumped into his taxi, a yellow Mercedes station wagon, and sped off towards the Bavarian foothills. Now when I say "sped" I'm not kidding. He asked me what the speed limit was in NZ, I told him 100kph. He pointed at a large "X" on the overhead gantry above the road and said.. on this road there is no limit. He floored it. We sat on 180kph most of the way, speeding past every other car on the road, along side were open green pastures that reminded me of the Canterbury plains.
After driving for nearly an hour we eventually arrived at the Klinik. This region is incredibly beautiful, rolling green hills and little Bavarian villages dotted along the way. I must say that the air here is very clean and no different to that of NZ. Certainly no hazy grey blanket like HK.
Karen, I know you'll really appreciate this.. As we drove the last 200 metres up the private road to the Klinik, Crowded House came on the radio, the song... "Don't dream it's over". I was blown away.
I got here at about 7am, the kitchen staff where just setting up, and none of the medical staff were ready to see me.I was ushered into the dining room and given a choice of breakfasts from Cornflakes through to a mixed grill. I chose the cornflakes, fruit and yoghurt. The staff are so friendly and helpful. They keep apologising for their english but it's very good. Heck I can't say a word of German! (well I can but I'm too shy in case I get it wrong!).
Sunday, August 10, 2008
The Accidental Tourist
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Yeah, I know.. This blog is supposed to be about cancer, treatment and progress, but hey when in Rome (or Hong Kong) it's only fair that I step outside for a little R&R and take a look around.
You could be forgiven for confusing Hong Kong for Beijing, the view is the same.. that of a hazy grey blanket that smothers everything.
I took a train ride into the city this afternoon and then a walk along the waterfront. The first thing that you see as you approach the city is the hundreds of pencil thin apartment buildings that house the general population. I can't imagine a more depressing way to live. We really do have it good in NZ with our 1/4 acre slices of paradise.
After walking around for a while I thought I'd get brave and check out some of the back streets.
I could have been forgiven for thinking I'd somehow bumped my head and woken up in a scene from the movie "Bladerunner". Everywhere there are neon signs and huge video screens promoting rampant consumerism. Your life will be so much better when you buy a Samsung product or so we are told..
It was 6pm on a Sunday night and there was crowds everywhere, I can't imagine what it must be like on a busy day. It felt so strange to be walking around as a tall Eurpoean in a sea of short Asians. Most of the women are under 5' tall, the men slightly taller, but there were a lot of very tall teenage boys.. must be something new in the water.
I caught the train back, having walked probably 10 k's today, nearly all of it under cover as there are walkways linking most of the buildings together. Navigating the train station alone was monumental., probably a half km walk underground as I went in at the wrong entrance.
I've ordered some room service Singapore noodles for dinner, should be interesting.. the eggs Benedict I had for breakfast had been grilled to the point the hollandaise sauce had gone crispy and brown. Then there was the game of "Hide the toast" where I figured I must have been served some because I had butter and jam sachets on my plate.. but no toast. Finally after giving up looking I grabbed the napkin to wipe my chin and four pieces of curled up toast jumped out and were flung across the room. Still tasted good though!
OK enough whining.. I'm sounding decidedly like the English on holiday.. ;)
Catch you tomorrow where I'll review the Lufthansa flight, oh and first impressions of the clinic.
..Ron
You could be forgiven for confusing Hong Kong for Beijing, the view is the same.. that of a hazy grey blanket that smothers everything.
I took a train ride into the city this afternoon and then a walk along the waterfront. The first thing that you see as you approach the city is the hundreds of pencil thin apartment buildings that house the general population. I can't imagine a more depressing way to live. We really do have it good in NZ with our 1/4 acre slices of paradise.
After walking around for a while I thought I'd get brave and check out some of the back streets.
I could have been forgiven for thinking I'd somehow bumped my head and woken up in a scene from the movie "Bladerunner". Everywhere there are neon signs and huge video screens promoting rampant consumerism. Your life will be so much better when you buy a Samsung product or so we are told..
It was 6pm on a Sunday night and there was crowds everywhere, I can't imagine what it must be like on a busy day. It felt so strange to be walking around as a tall Eurpoean in a sea of short Asians. Most of the women are under 5' tall, the men slightly taller, but there were a lot of very tall teenage boys.. must be something new in the water.
I caught the train back, having walked probably 10 k's today, nearly all of it under cover as there are walkways linking most of the buildings together. Navigating the train station alone was monumental., probably a half km walk underground as I went in at the wrong entrance.
I've ordered some room service Singapore noodles for dinner, should be interesting.. the eggs Benedict I had for breakfast had been grilled to the point the hollandaise sauce had gone crispy and brown. Then there was the game of "Hide the toast" where I figured I must have been served some because I had butter and jam sachets on my plate.. but no toast. Finally after giving up looking I grabbed the napkin to wipe my chin and four pieces of curled up toast jumped out and were flung across the room. Still tasted good though!
OK enough whining.. I'm sounding decidedly like the English on holiday.. ;)
Catch you tomorrow where I'll review the Lufthansa flight, oh and first impressions of the clinic.
..Ron
Hong Kong Phooey!
Well I now know why they call it "Cattle Class".
I would have settled for cramped and uncomfortable over squashed and painful anyday!
Still the main thing is I'm 1/2 way there and all I need to do now is endure another 12 hours of dead limbs, stiff neck and bad food on the last leg to Munich and I'll be home and hosed.
Hong Kong airport isn't what I'd call big, not even huge, it's bloody astronomical!
There's just endless concourses in every direction. I even had to catch a train from the arrival hall to the customs clearance area. From there it was a 10 minute walk to the Hotel, stopping to ask directions along the way.. and It's in the same building!
I arrived at the Hotel check-in and the guy, Aaron, could not understand my name but he spoke perfect english, then he couldn't find me in the system because he thought I was checking out.. once that was cleared up he told me that my room was not ready and to come back in 2 hours! Lovely world class servce, brilliant! and all I want is somewhere to sleep.
So here I sit in the lounge outside the main lobby, surrounded by waterfalls and Chinese art and decorations.. typing away on my laptop, because there's no point in going anywhere else because it's 8am on a sunday morning. Grumble grumble.. lack of sleep doesn't help.
The guy who sat beside me on the plane never spoke, for that matter neither did I. I had considered it but once he started talking to himself and making little animated gestures while reading the safety plan I decided i'd best leave him alone.. I think he was French.. probably explains a lot.
I'll go and see if I can't find something interesting to do for an hour or so.. :)
.......Ok I'm back, It's now 10am and only just got my room sorted after the pass key would not allow me to access the lifts. I'm on the top floor for some reason, they must have upgraded me because I only booked a budget room and this one is pretty big, the bed is the biggest I've seen! it's wider than it is deep, you could sleep 4 in it no problem at all.
A quick check of my email shows that the Dry Shipper has arived at the clinic safe and sound. (Hopefully without being X-rayed)
I went for a walk earlier to waste some time while my room was being prepared. Two hours and I only covered the train station and terminal 2. It's a 30 minute walk there and 30 mins back and you are inside the whole time, endless shops, escalators and kiosks. I'll go take a look at the Asia Hollywood experience later when it opens, it must be good the main display is a Toyota AE86 Corolla, the same model as the one I used to race in the early 90's and still own. They have a cult following in Asia. :)
Right time for something to eat and a kip.
Till later ...Ron
I would have settled for cramped and uncomfortable over squashed and painful anyday!
Still the main thing is I'm 1/2 way there and all I need to do now is endure another 12 hours of dead limbs, stiff neck and bad food on the last leg to Munich and I'll be home and hosed.
Hong Kong airport isn't what I'd call big, not even huge, it's bloody astronomical!
There's just endless concourses in every direction. I even had to catch a train from the arrival hall to the customs clearance area. From there it was a 10 minute walk to the Hotel, stopping to ask directions along the way.. and It's in the same building!
I arrived at the Hotel check-in and the guy, Aaron, could not understand my name but he spoke perfect english, then he couldn't find me in the system because he thought I was checking out.. once that was cleared up he told me that my room was not ready and to come back in 2 hours! Lovely world class servce, brilliant! and all I want is somewhere to sleep.
So here I sit in the lounge outside the main lobby, surrounded by waterfalls and Chinese art and decorations.. typing away on my laptop, because there's no point in going anywhere else because it's 8am on a sunday morning. Grumble grumble.. lack of sleep doesn't help.
The guy who sat beside me on the plane never spoke, for that matter neither did I. I had considered it but once he started talking to himself and making little animated gestures while reading the safety plan I decided i'd best leave him alone.. I think he was French.. probably explains a lot.
I'll go and see if I can't find something interesting to do for an hour or so.. :)
.......Ok I'm back, It's now 10am and only just got my room sorted after the pass key would not allow me to access the lifts. I'm on the top floor for some reason, they must have upgraded me because I only booked a budget room and this one is pretty big, the bed is the biggest I've seen! it's wider than it is deep, you could sleep 4 in it no problem at all.
A quick check of my email shows that the Dry Shipper has arived at the clinic safe and sound. (Hopefully without being X-rayed)
I went for a walk earlier to waste some time while my room was being prepared. Two hours and I only covered the train station and terminal 2. It's a 30 minute walk there and 30 mins back and you are inside the whole time, endless shops, escalators and kiosks. I'll go take a look at the Asia Hollywood experience later when it opens, it must be good the main display is a Toyota AE86 Corolla, the same model as the one I used to race in the early 90's and still own. They have a cult following in Asia. :)
Right time for something to eat and a kip.
Till later ...Ron
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