A major milestone

December update and the next phase.

I took my last dose of chemo on 25th November. This is clearly a major milestone, but is actually more meaningful than I realised. The treatment protocol I’ve been following is one of the more aggressive approaches available to oncologists but also gives the best outcomes. They judged me fit enough to take it, so I said yes. What I didn’t realise then was that the regimen is so rough, only around 50% of patients complete it. The rest either have treatment paused because their body needs the break, or they pull out and choose quality of life over length.

I made it the full way through, which based on what I’ve been reading I credit to three things:

1. The grit inherited from my mother. There’s a well recognised stubborn streak in the family, know as the Thomson trait, and I believe it’s served me well this year. Getting through this was in no small part thanks to that and I know my mother would have been proud. She passed earlier this year, but she got me through this still, was with me every step.

2. Completion of treatment was in no small part a result of the tireless support of Janna, Beth and the kids. It’s been a physical and emotional hellscape, but the support has been unwavering in every respect and I wouldn’t have made it alone.

3. Finally, the research and work I’ve been doing myself. My father was a natural engineer and loved to research anything, I took that to heart here. I learned as much as I could about what the chemo what do and how I might build both physical rituals and diet plans to both limit the damage and increase the efficacy of treatment. Again, that seems to have gone in my favour and it’s written up elsewhere on this site for any that are curious.

I now have a few checks and scans to give the medics a clear baseline for treatment completion. Regular scans thereafter will ensure if there’s so much as a peep from it, they’re on the case immediately. I draw comfort from knowing several other patients who’ve had many years peace from theirs, knowing also that I went harder at mine with both the oncology treatment and adjuvant nutritional contributions such as Sulforaphane. Science is only accelerating too and brain tumours are finally getting the focus they deserve. It’s not unrealistic to think that within years any recurrence will be treated with surgery and immunotherapy approaches that are far less toxic to the body than radiation and chemo therapies. While the year has been brutal, I end it full of hope.

I’m going to close out the tumour commentary aspects of this journal for now, save for some thoughts when I see a major leap in the science as I know a number of other patients subscribe. I’ll keep the page running with a new focus though. Surviving this, while overall terrifying, has actually been good for my health in other ways. I’ve eaten more carefully, exercised more regularly, my blood pressure has never been better (in spite of epic stress).

The new focus for this journal will therefore be nutrition and lifestyle . I wish to reverse the residual damage left by the chemo, clear that toxin and replenish wherever I can, but also continue to learn and push my diet in ways which are fiercely anti-cancer. That will undoubtedly be good for my family and I’ll continue to share what I learn in the hope that it helps others.

For example! I’ve baked sourdough since the pandemic landed us in lockdown, but over the last few months my research has made me aware of ways in which I can level this up. I continued to bake through treatment as sourdough is good for the gut biome which chemo certainly damages. A chef named Brian Towell switched me on to the idea of liquidizing tinned tomatoes instead of water in a loaf to add a savoury flavour. Not sure whether he was aware, but this also adds Lycopene to the loaf - directly associated with a risk reduction of several cancer types. For example, eating cooked tomatoes 5-6 times a week shows a 28% risk reduction in developing prostate cancer. I also now add a handful of ground flax & sesame seeds. These not only have increased fibre benefits but are also rich in lignans and omega-3. Antioxidant, anti-inflammatory, neuro-protective - what’s not to like.

None of these will prevent cancer entirely, but they will help reverse some of the damage chemo has done, help with risk reduction in future and give me the sense that I’m taking active steps for a better future. I have to recognise that running an event & media business for the last decade wasn’t the healthiest life-style, but none of that damage need be permanent. The future of this journal is therefore likely to be mostly in that line, I hope that’s helpful to some.

For me now, I can fully turn my attention to Rodeo. The event business I built previously was built on a messy stack of different tech products and I’m turning my attention to solving that problem for others. During chemo, I wrote the story of that business and a blueprint for others who wish to build something similar. That book is available here, and now my focus shifts to speaking to investors about what’s next. If you happen to know any investors that like to back founding teams who really can thrive in adversity, they can register interest in learning more here or connect with me on LinkedIn here.

To all those still fighting this dreadful disease, take heart. You are capable of more than you might believe and science is moving faster every day to have your back. The mental aspects of this fight might be the toughest you ever engage, but belief is important. My heartfelt thanks to all those who added moral support along the way, lifted spirits when I fell, reminded of the future I was fighting for. Lisa, Brian, Jamie, Shaun, Jennifer, Pradip, Grant, Nick, Damon and so many others. Too many to mention and my memory from those early days especially is fractured, but every single message along the way lifted my spirits and made a difference. Having Matt, another patient, shoulder to shoulder with me was also immense. We went through this together, and will always be brothers in arms.

I mention this out of gratitude but also so that everyone reading this understands those things do make a huge difference. You will no doubt be in touch with others who have to walk this path in future. It might be hard to know what to say, it might dredge up memories of loved ones you’ve lost in the past but do please reach out and let patients know they’re in your thoughts. I’ve heard too many others say “my social circles backed away entirely, I don’t really know why”. Please, if my sharing this journey changes anything for you, let it be this: when you hear of someone else diagnosed with any kind of cancer, don’t go dark on them. There might be nothing physical you can do for them, but moral support means more than you might realise.

ONWARDS!

James x