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I dont know where i'm going with this topic, but i sure as hell know i'm not after "aww, i'm sorry to hear that" type replies. I'm tired of people feeling sorry for me, having pitty for me. I'm a proud man, no a proud human and dont need pitty from people so please, dont give it to me. 90% of you dont give a ****, and thats good, this topic is for the 10% of the members here who do care.

You've asked me time after time how the chemo is going, if i'm getting better and so on, and what do i always say? "yeah, it's all going good, i'll be better in no time".... Well, i might as well go into it a little more here for you. I would have on MSN but, it gets boring when everyone asks cos they feel they have to.

i'll start from the start, again, so most of you will know some of this.

Just over four months ago i found two lumps on my leg, but i didnt really worry about them. I made a topic here, mocked about them maybe being cancer and forgot about it for a few days. I come back to replies from some people saying i shoud go to the doctors to get them checked out, and other replies saying i was just growing some new bollox. So off i went, trotting along to A&E to get the them checked out.

when there, four doctors checked me out, then they went off to talk about it before coming back to me. When they come back they told me it was prolly some kind of STD and sent me on my merry way to the GUM place (STD docotors). When there i had some horrid things done to me, the sorta things they do to men in hell. Oh dear god, you dont ever wanna have THAT done to you. A pee pee hole is a one way hole

The "you shoulda had a comdom on" doctor said to me i didnt have an STD and just told me to come back in a few weeks if the lumps hadnt gone away, so again i trotted off, thinkin i had nothing to worry about. By now my mummy was getting pee'd off and i was getting more and more pain. She sent me to my GP and again, i found myself with male hands playing with me. The GP (not MY GP mind you) said again it was nothing to worry about and gave me some pills, he told me to come back in a week. I took the pills for a week but by now i could hardly walk let alone work, the pain wa unreal. I went back after a week of taking the pills but they had done nothing. He gave me more pills, i had a blood test and he didnt even ask me to come back.

I took the pills again for a week, getting more and more pain. After the week of taking pills and still not getting better i went to see MY GP and as soon as he checked me out he said i would have to go for tests and booked me in to have a biopsy (or however you spell it). I had to wait a week to go for the tests but my GP had at long last given me some pain killers. Nothing too strong and they didnt really work too well but hell, it was a start.

I went for the tests and what not, and when i woke up i was told i coudlnt work for 6 weeks and given codian. I had to wait two weeks for the tests to come back and at long last find out what was wrong with me. Off i went, trotting along again. Six weeks to do nothing and some pain killers that might work. I took the pain killers, then i took some more, and then a few more... one night clocking over 20 and still in pain but there was nothing i could do but wait to see what was wrong with me. By now the pain was stopping me sleeping so i was also pretty much awake for days on end. Not good.

The two weeks had past, the longest two weeks ever and i found myself in the hosp again, in a waiting room with my mother and father. After an hour or two we was called into a little, over heated room with one chair and a bed. In there we waited again, this time for an hour, getting more and more annoyed. At long last the doctor come in and stood there looking me up and down for a few mins. "so, whats wrong with me?" i asked. "cancer, you have cancer" and he went on to tell me what kind of cancer it was. "this cancer you have is VERY rare" he said, and he gave it a name that i cant remember right now. He told me i would have to go to the middlesex hosp in london to be treated but he couldnt tell me how. I MIGHT have chemo, i might not.

We went home and looked into the cancer i had/have, we wanted to see how bad it was. 60 people world wide get this cancer every year and only 10% of them are over the age of 9. 2 poeple have it in england, Lou and myself. Was this something to be worried about, something to be scared about? I wouldnt know, i cant remember the last time i was scared but, my mum did cry that night. Thats something i had only ever seen once before.

The next morning i had a phonecall from the middlesex saying i had to go up there to see my new doctor and could i make it the next morning. Hell, sure i could.

The next day we went, not knowing what it was going to be like. It wasnt too bad, a few bald people there waiting but that wasnt too shocking. We went in, he played with my nuts a little and had a bit of a talk then he asked it, "So kris, do YOU think you'll die?", "what the hell, your the doctor, you tell me. You get paid for this, not me"... "we'll do the best we can to make you better". That wasnt too bad, he didnt tell me i was going to die. Hell, i must have had ok odds, 50/50 maybe? Months later i found out what odds i really had and they wasnt too bad, 98% chance i wouldnt see a x-mas again. Not to bad atall. He asked me if i wanted to stay in for the weekend to get my pain sorted and afterall, i had to be back on the monday for tests. Did i hell, i wanted to get home and see my friends. He gave me sleeping pills (temazepam) and some of the strongest painkills you can get and sent me home.

I went home, got a blood clot in my leg but tried to have fun anyhow, then made my way back in on the monday, but things got worse. My mum and dad didnt think i'd make the trip to the hosp, they thought when they got me out the car there i'd well.... yeah. but, i got there, passed out and slept for the rest of the day. Over the next week i was tested, poked and predded. That week i found out the cancer i thought was only in one place was infact in around 12 places and it would be treated with the strongest chemo there was and with that, i started my chemo.

The next three months we're hell, having chemo, being ill and only getting home for a day or two every two weeks. Not nice atall. The doctors got more and more shocked by the way the chemo was working with me. No one had ever seen Chemo work so fast and so good, the lumps had lasmost gone, and with any luck the cancer in my blood/bone-marrow was getting better.

Each day took me a day closer to having "super-chemo" and a bone-marrow transpalnt. I'd be cured and if it stayed away for five years, i'd be all better for good, and hell, i sure did miss my hair.

This takes us to last week, a week before my "super-chemo" hit and bone-marrow transplant. It's not like norm bone-marrow transpants. I'd have my own stem cells taken from me, and then the "super-chemo" would kill all of my bone-marrow along with any cancer left in my body, then i would have my stem cells given back to me. this all depended on one thing, if the cancer was gone from my blood and bone-marrow. It neede to be clear. It wasnt, i was told i couldnt have it done. I was set for a long ride of more chemo, more hell.

With chemo, your body can only take so much, then it stops working. The stronger the chemo, the sorter this time is and the less chemo your body can take. I've been having the strong types of chemo there are and as it is, alot of the types of chemo that are left would kill me, like the "super-chemo". This is when my doctor tells me "kris, you do know at some point we are going to have to tell you there is nothing more we can do for you apart from take away the pain". Now from what i have leant while being on the TCTU (Teenage Cancer Trust Unit) ward, they dont tell you this till that point is in sight......

So, in short, and closing.... It's not going as good as i make out on MSN.

Now, pitty me

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Originally posted by PeeWee.Inc

There's still a will to live within my soul and while thats there, i'll be fighting for life. I've come this far and i'm not ready to give up yet. The doctors told me i'd be in my wheelchair "for as long as they can see" and i no longer use it, they also told me i would be on pain killers for that time, and again, i no longer use them.

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There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval. 
George Santayana, Soliloquies in England, 1922, "War Shrines"