Sue had her colonoscopy as planned today. It was an uneventful, though not especially enjoyable, preparation and procedure. For those who have 'had the pleasure', you don't need any explanation. For those of you who have avoided this so far, trust us, you do not want details!!

What was discovered as a result of the 'invasion of personal space with a tiny camera on a (flexible) stick' was that the cancer is back with a vengeance in the same location and has regrown to the point that the bowel is already almost completely constricted. Phill (the surgeon) told us tonight that he "could not find his way past the tumor". In short, there is a 'roadblock'. How quickly things can change.

While the return of the cancer in 'action mode' was not a surprise to us (as we knew that Sue has been in increasing discomfort and deteriorating wellness), the extent of the regrowth was a little unexpected.

The practical consequence is that Sue's bowel could (but may not!) become completely obstructed and/or rupture or perforate at any time. This would be extremely painful and require emergency surgery. Far better then to act soon and prevent this happening!

So......Sue will be having a palliative (as distinct from curative) transverse hemicolectomy on Thursday 14 August. This will be performed by Phill Carson in Darwin. If all goes well, this will be followed by 5-7 days recovery in hospital and a further 6-8 weeks recovery at home.

Yesterday we were dealing with the feelings and challenges resulting from uncertainty. Today we are dealing with the feelings and challenges resulting from firm decisions and clear ways forward! - e.g. the need to cancel planned and booked travel to Adelaide and Yarragon late in August and September.

What a relief it is to know that in this, as in all things, we are not alone. We are surrounded and embraced by countless generous and grace-fueled 'lovers of us'. What a beautiful expression and ministry of the truth that we are able to love, because God first loved us.

Keep smiling and being thankful in what faces you. We are.

Well, we got the day and the date right this time and successfully met with our surgeon and good friend Phillip Carson.

As is his habit, Phill carefully, quietly and meticulously worked us through the available information, especially the PET Scan images and report. We had never seen PET Scan image before and were surprised by what we saw! While the images below are not actually from Sue's scan, they are a good indication of what we saw. Actually, Sue's were probably even fuzzier than these!!

Phill made the comment that NUCLEAR medicine (of which PET Scans are a part) might better be called UNCLEAR medicine. This subtle anagram appealed greatly to me as a lover and manipulator of language!!

In a process that seems to the untrained as akin to reading tea leaves, skilled doctors can apparently divine great meaning from fuzzy images and interpret them. They then write words of explanation that contain detailed description and analysis - and are completely incomprehensible to everyone other than experienced medicos!! They write sentences like:

There is a large FDG avid mass in the distal transverse colon extending to the splenic flexure....    Huh?

 The upshot of the visit today was confirmation that the primary tumour has ‘revved up’ again in the last couple of months since the ‘clear’ colonoscopy. The PET Scan and Sue’s symptoms raise concern about the potential of blockage and/or perforation of the bowel as the tumour continues to grow. Surgery would address this. What is less clear is the level of urgency for the surgery. This turns largely on how aggressive the tumour is now. To this end, Phill wants to have another ‘look see’ so has scheduled a further colonoscopy next Thursday 7th August. Following that, we will consider his advice and balance the various considerations at play.

PS: In case your are interested, here are some other anagrams of NUCLEAR MEDICINE:

Ecumenical Diner | Euclidean Mincer | Decline Manicure

Nine Accrued Lime | Ecumenical In Red | Ceramic Nude Line

Cancel Dime Urine | Elude Mini Cancer | Crucial Need Mine

Uncleaned Ice Rim | Niece Claimed Run | Malice Cured Nine | Unlined Icecream

It would be remiss of us not to acknowledge today as the one year anniversary of Sue's diagnosis.

It is a somewhat confusing anniversary. On one hand, it is just another day. On another hand, it marks a year of living with varying levels of discomfort, pain, tiredness, medical procedures, uncertainty, confusion and the emotional toll that all that exacts. On another hand, it marks a year of living.... when earlier suggestions cast some doubt on that. On yet another hand (I know, that is four hands now!), it is an appropriate moment to stop and acknowledge that in and among it all, it has been a year of incredible blessing to us individually, as a couple and as a family. Such have been the blessings that should we be given the choice to re-live the last 12 months without the cancer, we would grieve the loss of the things we have learned, grown in, enjoyed and cherished while on the journey. Strange hey?

Laura Story says it pretty well in her song "Blessings". We can attest to the underlying truth in these words.

We pray for blessings, we pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering
And all the while, You hear each spoken need
Yet love us way too much to give us lesser things

'Cause what if your blessings come through rain drops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You're near
What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

We pray for wisdom, Your voice to hear
We cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt your goodness, we doubt your love
As if every promise from Your word is not enough
And all the while, You hear each desperate plea
And long that we'd have faith to believe

'Cause what if your blessings come through rain drops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You're near
What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

When friends betray us
When darkness seems to win
We know that pain reminds this heart
That this is not,
This is not our home
It's not our home

'Cause what if your blessings come through rain drops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You're near

What if my greatest disappointments or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can't satisfy
What if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are your mercies in disguise

You can hear the song on Youtube by clicking here

In the last year we have come to understand in a new, different and deeper way the truth of 2 Corinthians 4:7-10

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in us.

Now that is a real blessing. 

We look forward continuing to share the journey with you all in 'year two'.

Today Sue and I learned a few things. Unfortunately not one of them shed any light at all on the next treatment steps!

These are some of the things we know now that we did not know this morning:

• When a medical receptionist writes on an appointment card, they sometimes make mistakes and list a mismatching day and date (e.g. Wednesday 28th July)
• When Geoff reads an appointment card, he only looks at the date (number) not the day - and confidently puts it in his electronic diary for that date.
• When Sue notices a mismatched day and date she (thinks she) mentions it to Geoff, who then has no memory of it. Sue is then apparently satisfied.
• Geoff gets annoyed by things like this but is (now) mature enough to just 'go quiet' for a while then (mostly) get over it.
• Sue is apparently more sanguine in these sorts of circumstances and is happy to have spent time with her husband and had a nice pre-appointment coffee at Java Spice (favorite cafe) and is looking forward to another one in two day's time. 
• Wednesday 28th July occurred last in 2010 and next in 2021.

So where does that leave us?

• We missed the 2010 appointment and are not prepared to wait for 2021!
• Fortunately, in the mis-communication and confusion, we arrived exactly 2 days early for our (actual) appointment rather than 2 days late.
• We will do it all again on Wednesday 30th and maybe then have some more useful knowledge to guide our thinking about future treatment options.

Such is life (apparently)!!

Love and prayers to all who had a day today that did not go to plan. May you handle it with grace and peace.

The fact that you are reading this means that you have not forgotten us, despite us being MIA (Missing in Action) for over two months. We were a bit surprised to realize that in our busyness we have been 'ignoring' you for that long.

As you may recall, Sue made the decision in late May not to restart chemotherapy ahead of Mitchell and Lauren's wedding on 28 June so that she had maximum opportunity to engage in, contribute to and enjoy that most precious family event.

We could write pages and pages about the period leading up to the wedding, the day itself, and the time since, but that would really require another blog! Suffice to say that Sue threw herself into it all with energy and joy and spent many hours making her own special contribution through sewing and preparing table decorations and, and , and...  As you might appreciate this was a blessedly busy time!  In due course, the wedding day (and all the visiting friends and relatives) came and went. We entered July in a state of deep thankfulness and joyful tiredness.

Please indulge us - as proud parents we can't help but show you a few photographs.

However, underneath all the focused energy, excitement and celebration we became aware that there were some niggling signs that Sue's divinely-timed 'grace period' of unexpected wellness was not going to be a lengthy one. As such was to be cherished even more. Day by day, in small increments, Sue became aware of returning discomfort and decreased energy levels. While she was able to manage and push through this, we were ready to go back to the oncologist and talk 'where Sue is at' and 'where to from here?'.

As reported in an earlier post, the expectation was that Sue would restart chemotherapy almost immediately. Unexpectedly Sue was asked to undergo an immediate PET Scan. Other than taking quite a bit longer, and involving the injecting of nuclear material into the bloodstream, the test is not very different that the CT Scans Sue has been having routinely - other than it cannot be done in Darwin! Consequently, having just enjoyed the company of all our South Australian family at the wedding, we ended up almost following them back home. We arrived in Adelaide on 12 July and Sue had the scan on 14 July and we returned to Darwin the following day.

Yesterday we visited the oncologist again. He confirmed what we expected -  the cancer is active and growing again in its primary location in the bowel, probably in the bowel lining or on the outside. This is causing some constriction. There is also active cancer in a nearby lymph node and in one spot in particular in the liver. That is the 'bad' news. The good news is that these are all existing locations and there are no apparent 'new' sites where the cancer is active. As a result, the question of an operation to remove the affected section of the bowel, and possibly even resect the liver, is under active discussion. We see the surgeon (our good friend Phill Carson) again on Monday to discuss the pros and cons of this option.

If we proceed to surgery it will be soon and will be followed by a period of recovery then chemotherapy. If we decide against the surgery, then chemotherapy will recommence immediately. Either way, we are clearly back on that roller coaster!

Thanks for 'hanging in there' with us - for caring and praying. Despite our recent failure to keep you informed, we do cherish your willingness to travel the journey with us. Life is best lived in community with others, and that community takes many forms and is expressed in a multitude of ways - including through this blog. Feel free to leave a comment (yes, we read them all) or make more direct contact. God bless.

The last finalist in the cartoon competition brings in a somewhat philosophical/existential dimension....

Of course the 'roller coaster' was always a metaphor not a real roller coaster so this offering takes it to a whole new level!

Having carefully consulted a wide range of professionals from cartoonists to comedians to existential philosophers, and then assessed the entries of the 4 finalists - WE HAVE A WINNER.

I am pleased to announce that First Prize goes to BRUCE BURGESS for his entry:

Thank you to all who  commented on the last post, made phone calls, sent emails and generally fulfilled the Biblical mandate to "Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn" (Romans 12:15).

After the slightly confronting 'medical images' if the last post, a more peaceful and restful picture seems appropriate. Enjoy! 

We continue to cherish the 'sweet spot' Sue is presently in - especially as we count down to son Mitchell's wedding to Lauren on 28 June. There are residual reminders that Sue's body is still 'under attack' (continued, and slightly increasing, numbness in hands and feet; good days and 'not quite so good days' etc) but overall Sue is freer to participate and enjoy life than anytime since July last year.  When in Adelaide recently we bought Sue a 'Stressless' chair in anticipation of a future increasing incapacity and need for comfort. It is beneficial when in good health too it appears! OK, I admit it, we bought one for me too!

We saw the oncologist again last week. We got a little bit of a surprise. In hindsight we realize that were expecting him to confirm the partial remission (which he did) and then advise that it is a process of 'wait and watch' (which he did not!).  As we were aware, there is still visible lesions in the liver. New information for us was some inconclusive suggestion (shadows on the latest CT scan) of possible activity in the bowel wall and perineum(the space around the organs). Given Sue's good response to the chemotherapy the oncologist was very keen to continue immediately with a 'maintenance regime' of further chemo. Sue and I were less keen! While we had no dispute with his medical opinion that the 'maintenance chemo' was advisable, the thought of returning to the world of blood-tests, infusions (maybe), tablets and further side-effects in the period before the wedding was unpalatable to Sue (and me).

When pressed, the oncologist admitted that while a delay in recommencing chemotherapy immediately statistically indicted a lessening of effectiveness in the range of 4-6 weeks less life-expectancy, the reality is that no-one will never really know. Sue and I agreed that the 'trade off' between a period of well-being and capacity now ahead of the wedding and a theoretical minor reduction in life span later was a complete 'no-brainer'. Outcome - Sue will have a further blood tests, CT scan and oncologist appointment a few days after the wedding and restart chemotherapy early in July.

As you can imagine, there was yet another necessary adjustment to our thinking as a result of all that!

The oncologist also advised us that the cancer has been classified as 'wildtype' which apparently signifies that it has no mutations. This is a bit of a head-spin as I thought cancer itself was a mutation.... Hmmm. Either way, Sue's cancer is of the 'non-mutant' variety - and this is apparently good news as it opens up more potential chemotherapy options in the future. 

The other clarification we got was around 'cancer markers' in the blood. Sue is somewhat unusual (in a lovely way of course) in that despite having Stage IV cancer, all her cancer markers have remained firmly in the 'normal' range. One marker has a threshold of 31 and Sue is a 3. In another the threshold is 2.5 and Sue is a 0.5. In her case, there are no 'numbers' to watch. She is a strange on all right - and I love her to bits!

Grace and peace to you all.

It will be have been evident to the regular reader that Sue responded very well to the months of chemotherapy and, despite the side effects, has been enjoying a progressively better quality of life as a result. The careful reader will have also understood that the last couple of months since chemo stopped have been a period of increasing wellbeing as the chemotherapy poisons (and most of its effects) have left her body. Recently we have been answering the question “How are you/How is Sue?” with “Unexpectedly well!”

Over the last week Sue has had a follow-up colonoscopy, a fourth scan and an appointment with our surgeon. The outcome of the combination of these is that we now need to report Sue’s condition as “Miraculously well! She is now officially in ‘high end’ partial remission.”

You may ask, “What does that really mean?” In lay terms, partial remission it means the treatment has killed some of the cells, but not all. While the cancer has reduced and doesn't appear to be growing/spreading, evidence can still be seen on scans.

In Sue’s case all evidence of the primary tumour in the bowel has completely disappeared! I wouldn't normally share photos of my wife’s internal works but in this case I can’t help it. Here is the ‘before and after’ comparison of the same spot in Sue’s colon.

If that doesn't cause you to fall to your knees in thankfulness and praise, I am not sure what will!

There is still visible evidence of the cancer in the liver and lymphatic system but this too is much reduced and less than the previous scan. We see the oncologist again on Tuesday to sort out the regime of regular ongoing monitoring but for the moment the mooted bowel operation is off the table (pun intended), and further treatment is unlikely until the cancer decides to get active again.

Sue’s prognosis is obviously now much improved. It is not unreasonable to expect a long-ish period of remission, a gradual reactivation when it occurs, and hence a much increased revised life expectancy. 

It was always impossible to predict probable prognosis and time-frames but it is clearly now even more challenging (in a good way) because Sue is clearly a statistical ‘outlier’ at this stage. As a result, in the midst of the joy and celebration, there is the challenge of further readjustment to our thinking and planning.

We are still going to take it ‘a day at a time’ and value and enjoy them all – there will just be more of them. We are now counting UP not DOWN.

In short, Sue is well and re-missioned! Praise God from whom all blessings flow.......... 

It has been almost exactly one month since the last post. This period of (blog) silence and (blog) inactivity pretty accurately mirrors the last month of the cancer journey actually. Sue has not experienced any obvious new signs or symptoms that the cancer is moving from its current apparently docile state. This has coincided nicely with a period with no planned treatment and no medical appointments - largely because we were travelling interstate for much of the last month. It was only as we experienced a release from the treatments and appointments that had framed and structured our individual and combined lives for the previous 8 months that we began to understand the impact that this had on us.

The three weeks in Victoria and South Australia were a rich blessing and time of celebration and re-creation. We traveled and stayed put; rested and exercised; went out and stayed in; went to bed early and very late; talked and sat in silence; laughed and cried; spoke deeply and chatted frivolously; made good use of time and ‘wasted’ it. We even danced - twice!

Coming home was a bit of a shock as we had to engage again with what ‘normal life’ looks and feels like – at least for the moment. It also became clear that Sue had been running on love and adrenaline whole away – it took her a few days to regather and recuperate. It took me longer than that.

The current reprieve has now ended. It has all started again. Sue has a colonoscopy scheduled for this Thursday, with an appointment with the anesthetist tomorrow. There were blood tests last week and follow up appointments with the surgeon and oncologist next week to make some decisions about next steps. There was even an unexpected visit to Emergency Department of Royal Darwin Hospital last Thursday night, but that is another story.

So it is back onto the roller coaster......

I found the cartoon and erased the text from the speech bubbles. I am offering a prize (as yet undetermined but it will be awesome!) for the best submission of alternative text. It could be Sue talking to me, or me to her, or involve the medical profession or….  Add your creative thoughts to the comments section, or if you are shy, email them to me. I will choose the best, re-post the cartoon with the text included and announce the prize-winner (and the prize I guess!). Come on, have a go!

Having not long arrived in Geelong from Melbourne by train, Sue continued to explore options available in alternative medicine.

She has just completed jean (gene) therapy with Dr Myer!

Now that all conventional medical responses have been temporarily suspended, Sue took the opportunity to commence an alternative therapy. We have had to travel interstate to access the best environment for what is essentially a self-help process. After considering the options, Sue elected to travel to Melbourne. We arrived on Thursday evening, and commenced the first round of retail therapy first thing on Friday morning!

The value of our decision to travel to access the best of this alternative therapy was almost immediately affirmed. We walked only three blocks from our hotel before meeting the first retail practitioner. Her rooms were immediately soothing and she was able to provide Sue with some quick relief by way of a new leather purse/wallet. Better yet, the practitioner revealed that she is able to assist interstate patients online on an ongoing basis!

A period of light physical and ocular exercise (walking and looking) followed. In this process Sue became acutely aware of her loss of retail fitness over recent months. She was partially re-energized by an infusion of caffeine from a nearby apocethary, but was also warned that further top-up doses would be needed throughout the day.

We then visited a specialist women's therapist of some renown. Some of you will know of her - she trades under the name of Pandora. Pandora's has discovered the secret of increasing feelings of well-being in women by the wearing specially formulated and individually tailored wrist bands. To the uninitiated and skeptical male, this sounds like a scam. I have searched the web for rigorous longitudinal studies supporting (or refuting) Pandora's claims. I can find none. What I can offer is my personal testimony that Sue was attended by a caring and attentive 'Pandora nurse-practitioner' and came away from the consultation energized and happy! I watched the process unfold - taking Sue's history, discussing her needs, formulating a treatment plan, choosing wristband elements, trial fitting - I was impressed by Pandora's professionalism and care. A decision was made and the wristband was fitted. Sue seemed to 'lift' almost immediately.

For those of you who have an interest in such things, a photo of Sue's therapeutic wristband appears below. Apparently it takes some specialist knowledge and experience (and preferably Y chromosomes) to interpret and understand the intricate and subtle effects of the band elements.

I should issue a warning at this point: Please do not copy Sue's band and expect good results. Pandora stressed that just as each patient is different and each condition is different, so too is every therapeutic wrist-band. Moreover, as the condition changes, the band may need to be adjusted - almost certainly by the addition of further wristband elements. Apparently, more recent testing has shown that additional benefits can be achieved by changes to the band itself and the wearing of the same wristband elements around the neck, and even on the ears! Innovation in alternative therapy seems unstoppable - how fortunate are we that there are those out there who demonstrate this sort of commitment to women's well-being!

Being a pragmatic male, I was initially dubious about the length of time that the evident benefits of the band would last. I was assured that they would continue unabated until at least the eve of Sue's next birthday at which time it may need to be refreshed, and then refreshed again around Christmas. At least Mother's Day is covered! 

Thank you to all those 'out there' that are obviously still reading this blog and travelling with us. We know this must be the case because so many of you have lovingly inquired about the results of Sue's recent bone scans.

The short answer is "They were all clear. There is currently no evidence of any abnormality in the bones".  If that is all you want to know, you may stop reading now!  If you want a bit more detail about this and other things, read on!!

On Monday we went back to see (our friend and) the diagnosing physician/surgeon Prof Phill Carson for the first time since 'that fateful day last July'. On calling us into his room he gave Sue a big hug (I don't imagine he does that to ALL his patients) and commented, with no small measure of surprise and joy, about how well she looked. He actually said that Sue looked healthier than me and I was looking a bit pale and wan!

Phill's summary was that Sue's response to the chemotherapy was as good as it could possibly be, and the recent CT scans showed drastically reduced evidence of the primary tumor in the bowel, almost disappearance of the liver lesion, and remarkable reduction of effect in various of the previously affected lymph nodes. He actually scrolled through the images of the first CT scan and the most recent one and pointed out the significant differences. Unfortunately, to the untrained eye, things looked much the same in both, so our response to statements like "See how that grey bit there (apparently the tumor) is smaller/different to this grey bit here (apparently also the tumor?)" could only be "We are happy to take your word for it!".

What did become very clear to us is that at the time of diagnosis there was more activity and impact in Sue's lymphatic system that we had realized and that Phill was not especially hopeful of the prognosis at that time - thinking that 'months rather than years' was most likely. He commented that the progressive improvements in chemotherapy regimes over the years were profound. He mused that in years past someone presenting with Sue's symptoms and stage of the metastis would have been told that there was essentially nothing that could be done to slow the march of the disease. Present day chemotherapy is becoming a much more formidable weapon in the treatment of cancers.

Phill's updated prognosis is that we can be pretty confident that Sue will enjoy Christmas 2014, possibly in continued reasonably good health. He went on to say that now that the chemotherapy has stopped, and assuming that the cancer remains in a suppressed state (which it is likely to do, at least for a while), Sue can expect her sense of wellness to improve and potentially come back toward "80% or so of her pre-cancer condition". 

Some may call this 'amazing'; others 'miraculous'. Some may attribute it to 'modern medicine'; others to 'prayer'. Sue and I see it as all of these things in no particular priority order and with no particular weighting.

The bottom line is that we are feeling blessed, graced and deeply thankful. Strangely, this good news is also requiring some adjustment to the parameters and assumptions in our thinking and future planning. It may be that we have more time up our sleeves than we had imagined, and that Sue may have a longer period of relative well-being ahead of her than we had assumed. We certainly do not want to squander either! Then again, it is not impossible for things to begin to go pear-shaped 'anytime'. Gotta love a life of uncertainty!

Sue is booked in for a further colonoscopy next month, following which we will need to make a decision about the option of an operation that would, if successful, serve to improve Sue's quality of life (but not length) once she reaches the 'end stages' of the disease.  Stay tuned for more on that a bit later.

Well, that's the story so far. Thanks for asking....

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a toasted sandwich? Ever had a nightmare about being squashed in a steam press until your wrinkles disappear and your elbows and knees have a sharp crease? Perhaps not, but they are the two images that came to mind as I watched Sue having bone scans - full body, pelvic, thoracic and head. Have a look at the photos below and you will get the idea.

It was a very interesting process to watch, but perhaps not quite so enjoyable being 'the scanwich'. Of course, Sue took it all in her stride. The day started by being injected with a mildly radioactive fluid before being released for a couple of hours with the warning "Don't go near pregnant women or young children!". Apparently husbands are dispensable, or just tough?

On return Sue was laid flat on a thin 'bed', trussed up, strapped in, and told to "relax" and keep completely still for about an hour while the various scans were done. Being the cooperative soul that she is, Sue did just that.

I spent a pleasant hour taking photos, reading a book, marveling at the technology and getting a sneaky peek at Sue's emerging bone structure. I can truly say that I know Sue more completely now than ever before!!

There is a more serious side to all this of course. The purpose of the scans is to determine whether the cancer commandos have invaded or made exploratory sorties into Sue's bone structure. She has been experiencing a mildly escalating pain and discomfort in and around her lower back and pelvic region and this encouraged the oncologist to move to undertaking these scans.

The results should be with the oncologist later in the week so I guess that we will hear from him in due course. We will post the results once they are in.

We continue to feel incredibly peaceful, grateful and blessed as we travel this (literally) amazing journey.

PS: I can now authoritatively state that as pleasant as it is to kiss a woman who is mildly radioactive, it is no more or less enjoyable than kissing one who is not! I was hoping for an added 'tingle' but was disappointed.

After visiting the oncologist yesterday (Tuesday), Sue was cleared to undergo her eighth, and last, cycle of chemotherapy. Wednesday started just like any other chemotherapy day, but that was as normal as it got.

We arrived at the Cancer Centre around 9.30am and booked in - as usual. Sue got her plastic name bracelet - as usual. We took a seat in the waiting room - as usual. We waited a little while before being called - as usual. We waited an hour - not usual. We waited two hours very UNusual. Eventually we were called in and asked whether anyone had explained to us what was going on!

The short story is that the chemotherapy drugs for Sue missed the scheduled plane from Adelaide and consequently were "still en route"!  "Could we come back at about 1.30pm?" Being the extremely adaptable and laid back people we are (stop laughing!) we simply agreed.

However, being the inquisitive type, I questioned whether there was normally a store of the drugs locally, and what had happened to lead to the current shortage? It is amazing what you learn when you ask questions! Apparently there is no local Darwin stockpile of the majority of chemotherapy drugs. They are always prepared elsewhere and flown in! There are two main reasons for this. First, each 'dose' of chemotherapy is prepared specifically for each patient and varies with factors such as the patient's weight. Secondly, most of the drugs have a very short shelf life once prepared - some as short as 24 hours. It is not viable to have a 'lab' in Darwin due to the relatively small (though very important!) population so the drugs get prepared elsewhere and flown in almost daily it seems. The things that go on 'behind the scenes'.....

We returned as requested at 1.30pm. At 2.45pm Sue finally got to sit in the big blue chair and get the 9.30am infusion. The infusion process was uneventful though Sue was being used 'for training purposes' by a supervisor and a couple of new chemo nurses. Sue was pretty much 'over it' by the time we were done.

As a finale, after all the various paraphernalia was removed, and swabs and plasters applied (as usual), Sue got up to go but noticed a modest blood spot on the pillow she was holding. The innocent question "I wonder where that came from?" caused us to look around and see that Sue had sprung a significant leak and was liberally baptizing her arm and hand, her clothes, the chair and the floor with her lifeblood! That got everyone moving alright. After a quick clean up and a bit more of a sit down, we were finally on our way - a little after 5.00pm.

As I said, Wednesday started just like any other chemotherapy day......

PS: Sue baked the biggest-ever round Banana Cake as a 'thank you' to the Cancer Centre team. She took it in as soon as we arrived at 9.30pm. By the time we got back a 1.30pm it was almost all gone. The uniform report was that it was delicious. Pity Sue did not get to see everyone enjoying her efforts.