Kristian - Days Like These: Even In The Darkest Moments, Light Can Shine Through

Let me bring you up to speed.

I have cancer.

In the bowel and liver.

I am thirty-four years old.

I have a beautiful wife and two boys under three years of age.

Friday, October 2

After traveling to the United States for a friends wedding during the last week of September 2009, I arrived back in Sydney with the usual jetlag associated with a thirteen-hour flight. I didnt think much of it and continued on with my work schedule.

Went in to work to tidy up the editing office. Did a little bit of file archiving. Shut the office down at the mains, as I was about to start an eight-week contract as one of the editors on Come Dine With Me Australia at another editing facility at Fox Studios.

Saturday, October 3

Headed out to do some demo recordings with a young Newcastle band at The Grove Studios. Tracking was basic but successful, and we got what we wanted.

Those were the words of my three-year-old son, Cody. He had asked me if I was OK, as he often does, and I had replied that I had a sore tummy.

Monday, October 5

Public holiday. Woke up at 12:00 a.m. with what I thought was a nasty stitch in my side. You know, the kind you get when you go out running. Quite a bit of discomfort but just tried to ignore it. No relief by 5:00 p.m., so off to the doctors surgery I go, with a stern but loving send-off from Rachel and Cody. Went to Warringah Mall Medical Centre and, for the first time in ten years, got a doctor who seemed genuinely interested in treating me. Turns out he is taking an online songwriting course at Berklee College of Music in Boston and is a bit of a music/audio nut. We got along great. Doc says I may have deep vein thrombosis due to recent air travel, but since I mentioned I have also been getting a little blood in my bowel movements, he refers me to emergency and another specialist.

6:00 p.m.: I am admitted to Manly Hospital, scans are ordered, and by 11:00 p.m., it is determined I have a blood clot on my lungs. I am given blood-thinning medication immediately and ordered to stay overnight.

From here on out, everything in our lives has been separated by this day before diagnosis/after diagnosis. This is a marker we cant ignore, much as we would like to.

Tuesday, October 6

After a night of almost no sleep (emergency ward, lights on all night), I chat with the nurses who advise me my treatment will be simple, just a daily injection of Warfarin (blood thinner) and a daily blood sample. Six months worth should do it. Resign myself to the fact that I will have to do it and decide to discharge myself, against doctors wishes.

Q: Why would I discharge myself if the doc said not to?

A: I work for myself and was already missing the first day of an eight-week contract. Not a good look for a new client, even though they were aware of the situation and very understanding.

Tried to check out but then nearly passed out so was ordered to stay.

Because I tried to leave, they gave my room to another patient, and now Im sitting in the corridor. Rachel arrives about an hour later with Jakob in tow; Cody is at kindergarten.

The specialist asks to speak with us. Says theres been a mistake. They use voice recognition software to get the reports done, and the software thought it heard blood clot present when in actual fact the doctor said no blood clot present. Sorry about that, but while youre here, we noticed something unusual at the bottom of the lung scan, on your liver. There are lesions there that concern us, and wed like to do another scan. Were pretty sure that with the symptoms youre presenting, you have cancer. But we need to check it to be sure.

You know that feeling you got in your stomach when you were young and you got caught doing something naughty, that feeling of impending doom? Yeah, that one. I got it right about here. Rach and I just sit there while Jakob gets into all the things a one-year-old kid loves to get into. So glad hes oblivious.

If youve spent time in a hospital, you know it involves a lot of waiting around. By the time we get all this info, its time to get Cody from kindy, so Rach heads out to pick him up. As it turns out, today is the day Rachels parents arrive from Auckland. Theyre here to compete in the cycling in the Masters Games (which arent for a few days yet), so Rach drops Cody off with Nanna and Poppa, and Cody thinks hes in heaven.

Sitting by yourself in a little hospital waiting room is not fun when there are less-serious items on the table, let alone the possibility of cancer. Its not a good place for me to be by myself and in the eerie soundscape of the ER, I begin to pray. I have no eloquent words to use. No lofty prayers to the Almighty. Just two words:

God, help.

Theyre ready for me to go in for the next scan, so I drink a liter of oral contrast and lie down while they prep the scanner. The phone rings; its Rachels ringtone (Take on Me by A-ha; I wanted to use I Touch Myself by the Divinyls, but she said she would never call me again if I did), and I lose it. I cant help but be frightened, and on the other end of that phone call is my wife. The thought of leaving her and the boys is too much. Trying to keep still for the scan, but my body is heaving from the sobs. Finally get it together long enough for the scanner to do its thing and then get wheeled back to my room.