It didn't work

The chemo didn't work.

I received this news today from my oncologist, in what I was hoping to be my final check-in before starting radiation treatment on Monday (my case was to be transferred to the radiation department of the hospital). I had a PET-CT scan last Friday, and yesterday my oncologist convened with his peers to analyze the results. The pictures made it pretty clear: While my first round of ABVD chemotherapy treatment was able to reduce the size of the tumour by 30%, the metabolic activity in the tumour somehow increased during that time period.

In other words: it was smaller yet angrier, like a cat that has been stuck in the rain.

My radiation treatment was cancelled, and instead I'll be going in for even STRONGER CHEMO. Rumour has it that my new regimen has chemicals so intense that side effects include being turned into a Clown Prince of Crime.

While it's rather crushing that my cancer is still sticking around and that I will be needing to have another PICC line inserted in me (I was free for three glorious weeks dammit), I am putting things in perspective: it's still only stage 1A Hodgkins Lymphoma. It's still so early that the only side effect that I'm enduring is that I have a lump on my leg.

Really, I have other things to be worried about right now that I do have under my control.

First off, I have to rebook flight tickets. I was planning on moving back from Berlin at the end of November. With the new treatment schedule I will be lucky if I will be able to visit for Christmas. I can't rebook via online self-service tools. I have to use airline customer support on the phone, which is a cancer upon itself.

Secondly, I have to find a new apartment to live in. My current lease ends in November, which means that I'll be homeless during therapy in December. Both me and the cat would appreciate having an abode during this round of toxin pumping.

Thirdly, I'll have to reschedule my job searches and start dates. My return home is postponed and chemo treatments may leave me at not peak performance if I want to impress a future employer enough to lock me into indentured servitude for their sweet, sweet healthcare coverage. It'll take a few awkward emails with non-descript reasons for as to why they'll be rescheduled, but this is doable. I only have checks calendar 5 companies to contact.

Finally, I'll have to inform my friends and family that I'll be undergoing more treatment. It'll be a bit of a crushing blow to them, but I hope that they'll take it in stride. Chemotherapy is scary, but is less scary than still having cancer. People with my kind of Hodgkins Lymphoma have a 87% survivability rate after 7 years from when diagnosis starts. Those are some pretty good odds, and I'll gladly take the discomfort that chemo requires so that I can lead a longer life.