colinsbraincancer's Cancer Blog
January 2, 2010
After my first round of radiation, chemo, and avastin I took a four week break. Then I got my MRI. I was pretty nervous. But, it was good news. The tumor has shrunk 30 percent and part of what was left was also dead and just hadn’t been reabsorbed. Its only 30 percent but thats amazing considering treatment normally only slows the progression. My blood work continues to look good and I’ve already started my second round of chemo and avastin. Trying to Stay Positive. And Do the Work.
Great News! May you continue in that same direction—forward only!
Martha
Posted on What wonderful news for the New Year! Congratulations! Get some rest and get strong for the next round of treatments and may it continue to shrink the beast til it is NOTHING!
Posted on Also, if you are getting radiation, it continues to work even when we are on “breaks” and after our treatment has ended. Not sure how long, I’ve heard that it can be up to a few months after treatment has ended.
Great news Colin, please stay positive….God loves you
Stay Rasta
Sharon
Colin,
that is great news! Keep on fighting. You are in my prayers.
Ruth
Posted on Great NEWS! Paul and I are so happy to hear you are doing well!
God bless,
Paul and Lisa D
Posted on Keep up the good fight I am a firm believer of possitive thinking. You are doing fantastic.Kick its Ass
Posted on September 28, 2009
It’s strange to look back on the last two months of my life and think about the rollercoaster I’ve been on. It’s strange to remember the stomach punch of shock, the dizzying effect of disbelief, anger, and grief. But with time, education, and the warmth of our family and friends, acceptance and hope replaced the aforementioned feelings, with a little bit of fear sprinkled on top for good measure.
When Colin started complaining about numbness on his right side, I thought he was being crazy. I’m not even sure why as I look back on it, but at the time it seemed like a strange little thing that someone would have, similar to a creaky joint, or a lip twitch.
As many know, I just graduated from VCU in May with a degree in English. Colin and I had discussed for awhile my plans to relocate to New York City in September with two girlfriends. We just had our three year anniversary and everything is going well, but at the end of the day, I felt I needed to make the stereotypical post graduation relocation to “find myself” or at least stumble upon a promising career. Our ultimate goal was to spend a year or two in different cities as Colin goes back to school to earn a degree, and I work and live it up in the big city before settling down together. Cue Woody Allen quote; “If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.”
Even when the MRI revealed the “growth”, I still continued with my plans to move and even purchased bus tickets to leave on Monday morning to head up to New York to secure an apartment, as I already found a job. We weren’t supposed to find out the biopsy results until Monday, which was nerve wracking as I didn’t want to be on a smelly bus heading up 95 if the news was bad. But fortune handed us a gift by revealing the news that Friday so I could cancel the plans I spent six months finalizing and my priorities could be realigned.
As we learned through this ‘life bump’ is that being notified of terrible news on a Friday is the worst thing of all time. If you get fired on Friday, you cannot apply for a new one until Monday. If you have a brain tumor on Friday, you only have the internet to answer your questions until you can speak to a specialist on Monday. Everyone knows when you are under the weather and you type your ailments into Google, you always wait for cancer to pop up. But when you actually have cancer, the internet is an even larger enemy.
That weekend was one of the most devastating weekends I’ve been through so far. If you’ve ever typed in “Grade Four Glioblastoma Multiforme” into a search engine, awesome things don’t pop up. I promise you. The majority of the timelines provided based on statistics is three years maximum. We learned that treatment only extends life by a small amount and that if it cannot be surgically removed (which Colin’s cannot be) that the survival rate is slim to none.
That is all the information that we had to go by for three days. Colin and I both walked around like zombies, weaving in and out of crying fits of anger and pain. Will we be able to get married? Will we be able to have children? How did everything get taken away so quickly? Why did this happen? How did this happen to the couple that everyone adores? Two people that harbor no enemies? Two people that have so many plans? How can this happen to anyone at all, no matter their place in life?
I had to learn how to be sensitive to him and how he was feeling. I thought it would come naturally but I was envious of him during the first few days. I would lay on my bed and sob for hours, yelling that it wasn’t fair that he would leave me. It wasn’t fair that he would die and I’d be left here alone. It wasn’t fair that I wouldn’t be able to grow old with him. I’d be the one left behind to miss him forever. I was mad that it couldn’t just happen to me, so I’d never have to miss him.
It took a lengthy phone call from my Mom to remind me that it wasn’t about me. That it was my job to support him, and make him feel amazing despite the terrible things happening around us. Everything that Colin wants was taken away from him. All of his dreams have been taken away. And yes, she said, you will be sad. You will ache for him when he is gone. But you have a life. In time, you can get married and have children. But that is being taken away from him. So stop feeling sorry for yourself and support the man you love. Make his time, no matter how long or short it may be, the most amazing time for both of you.
And that was the verbal slap in the face I needed to get me back on track. And isn’t that what Moms are for?
The following week we received a lot more information about treatment options, second opinions, resources and treatment supplements i.e. better nutrition and herbal. The more information we received, the easier the battle became. Every specialist we spoke to reminded us that cancer is an ongoing battle that progresses every minute of every day. Relying on cold, hard statistics isn’t worthwhile as every case is different and Colin doesn’t fit the mold of the ‘average’ brain tumor patient. He is a healthy, active 24 year old male who is willing to do whatever it takes to fight. He has an amazing support system of his family, friends, neighbors, and co-workers that will do whatever they can to help us succeed.
So we’ve stopped saying ‘why did this happen to us?” and started making the most out of everything around us. Colin’s parents volunteered to pay for his “soldiers” to stay in a cryobank in Northern Virginia so that we have fertility options if treatments make his sterile. I have a goal of buying a house in Richmond within the next year. Colin has decided he wants to go to culinary school sometime within the next year, as well, and I want to open my own clothing boutique.
And yes, he knows what kind of ring I want expect so we shall see what the future holds for my finger!
Also, I’m planning a benefit for Colin at Gallery 5 here in Richmond. I finally set the date for Sunday, November 15, but the rest of the details will be worked out by week’s end.
Christine
Colin's Girlfriend Christine, 
4 comments)
Hello
That was a great write up and detailed.
I do nto knwo what to say… I do agree how scary to type in brain tumor details. I know my twin and I did and then we finally wanted no more of it. Then we typed in survivors who had it and that was much nicer to read.
Let me see if I can find it.. ok here is one of them. http://www.thecni.org/braintumor/testimonials.html
PRAYERS!
BARB R
Christine—
Your mom sounds like a very wise woman! I’m happy you have her to support you because being the half of the couple who is NOT the one with cancer can be just as difficult. I watched the pain and agony that my husband experienced as I was going through my treatment—it was not an easy time for either of us. You sound like a very strong woman to me and I know you will remain so throughout Colin’s journey. Just be sure to take good care of you so you can be there for him. You both will remain in my thoughts and prayers. May God bless you both.
Martha
Christine and Colin,
I am very sorry to read your words but completely agree. Paul and I both have gone through a very similiar roller coaster ride. He is 39 years old and was diagnosed on January 24, 2009. He has been through radiation and temodar still at this time but not Avastin.
Please feel free to contact me through his blog or my email is lisadaigrepont@yahoo.com,just let me know it is you in the subject line if you email me. I would love to share some things that we have done and are still doing so please contact me. I look forward to hearing from you.
Lisa and Paul D
Wow all I can say is you made me cry! I am not one to cry! I was raised in foster care so crying is just not me but I have to tell you reading what you wrote was just beautiful! I wish not matter how wonderful my husband is could see what I am going thru. You are a sweetheart!
I was born in New Port News! I would love to come see your shop! You should tell me when you open it. That would make me very happy to see it! I wish you both the very best. I am so sorry that your man is going thru this. I have been thru two surgeries and I still have tumor in my head and I know that it cannot be removed. All about MRI’s every three months!
Keep your head held high and smile.. I wish I could be a good person. I feel like I am a lost person now…
Janet
Posted on 
Thanks for your support - 
