Tumour Diary: Is this normality?

BBC News Online Science and Technology writer Ivan Noble was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumour in August.

He has been sharing his experiences in a weekly online column.

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It is very strange to be writing this diary from my desk in the office for the first time.

I took the last chemotherapy tablets of this current round on Monday and I am still pretty groggy - sleepy, forgetful and easily distracted.

If someone ran through the office with no clothes on, it would take me about five minutes to notice

The feeling reminds me of when I used to work nights. After the first night I would be sitting in my normal surroundings but with the distinct feeling that something was missing.

I am clearly not firing on all cylinders and if someone ran through the office with no clothes on, it would take me about five minutes to notice.

But it feels good to be at work and trying to return to some kind of normality.

I arrive late and leave early, so the days are very short, but at least I am here.

Time and time again I am struck by how surreal the whole thing is.

News discussions

I have one of the most dangerous cancers around, yet here I am writing and talking about stories we will cover later in the year.

Every time I forget something, I ask myself whether I would have forgotten it a year ago

Why do I feel so well if I have such a serious condition?

It seems wrong to question my good fortune, but it does seem as if my only immediate problems are ones which are a result of the treatment rather than the disease.

Introspection and paranoia are a real problem.

Every time I forget something, I ask myself whether I would have forgotten it a year ago.

One of the areas of the brain which is responsible for language is in front of where my tumour is and so every time I stumble over words, say the wrong word or even get mixed up between English and German at home, I try to think whether I have always slipped up so often or whether it has got worse.

Putting on a show

I regularly worry that I am putting on a great show of normality for myself and the rest of the world, as if I was trying to trick the tumour into believing me as well.

I can hear a voice telling me to snap out of it, get on with life and not be such a bloody whinging fool, but that does not stop the worries.

It just means I feel daft for having them.

When I saw the doctor this time, it was only briefly, and he told me that the scan to see if my treatment has worked will be at the beginning of March.

It is hard to keep track, but it does seem as if he has constantly been putting it back.

I have managed to convince myself that he has been delaying because he has had no cause for concern so far.

Remission chances

My chances of a reasonable period of remission seem fairly good and the date is too far off to start worrying about yet but when the time comes, it is not going to be easy to go and have the scan.

Back to the present - the highlight of the week has been our little girl's first encounter with snow.

Quite sensibly she thinks it is very nice to look at, hooting with enthusiasm from the window at the white-dusted back garden, but not much fun to be out in on your way to nursery.

If you would like to send an e-mail in response to Ivan's column, please use the form below. We will publish a selection here.

As a nurse, her carer, and her daughter, I anguish over what is next Sharon Watson, Sydney, Australia

I have been researching info for my mother who has been diagnosed with a brain tumour. She is more fortunate to have had 86 good years, although the diagnosis for the last seven has been dementia (makes you wonder). The feelings you express are everything I have been feeling since finding out.

As a nurse, her carer, and her daughter, I anguish over what is next. You may not feel you have not been left with any pearls of wisdom, but you certainly have left a lot of them on the shore for others... Thanks to the BBC for their support in this vital community project.
Sharon Watson, Sydney, Australia

It is certainly strange to modify our perspectives and view the world in a different light. You seem to be heading on great though, may Allah help you.
Sabeen, US

Enjoy what you have, you seem good at that. You're coping with the hardest worry of all brilliantly.
Fran, UK

I realise that our life belongs to God, not us Shu Deok Seon, Singapore

My name is Daniel, staying in Singapore but am Korean. My wife has breast cancer since last month. I cried when I heard from doctor. Now she's had three times operation at her breast. We're waiting for report, whether she has still cancer or not.

During this crisis I realise that our life belongs to God, not us. But God gives us always wonderful chance. I hope that my lovely wife and you will get cure very soon. I will pray for you also. Because many of my friends pray for my wife. God bless you all the time.
Shu Deok Seon, Singapore

You are such a credit to yourself Ivan, standing out in public and telling them about your illness. I wish all your treatments work well with your body, I really do my friend. I am recovering from vulval cancer, a very rare and devastating disease too.

The surgery is very mutilating and it is so rare no info was available when I was diagnosed. I set up a support group and a charity called V.A.C.O. I have to date 65 ladies on my group and I have only been up and running for about 15 months. I am so glad I started it. Support is so important to cancer sufferers.
Carol Jones, United Kingdom

I feel as if I had written some of your column myself. I was diagnosed with one of the "bad cancers" and began radiation therapy and then chemotherapy. The loss of one's hair seems to be the final insult. It came back very curly and as fine as your baby's hair. I was told that five years was the life expectancy with this tumour but I am feeling so well, I really hope I can beat the odds. Also, at the five year mark, I will renew my driver's licence picture, with that darn chemo cap!
Jan Wood, Canada

All I could do was try and handle it as well as you David Mortlock, UK

I started getting terrible headaches, dizziness and nausea and at the same time, stumbled across your tumour diaries. My symptoms were almost identical to yours which increased my paranoia. I was diagnosed with a virus but the headaches got worse over Christmas and I was convinced something serious was up.

As I went for my scan, I promised myself that all I could do was try and handle it as well as you. It turned I didn't have a tumour, just a very nasty head infection which is now clearing with strong antibiotics. Although I don't know you personally, I think you've got exactly the right mindset and character to get through this and come out the other side a stronger and better person. Keep us posted.
David Mortlock, UK

My younger brother has a malignant brain tumour. There's no right or wrong way to deal with what you're going through, however like him you both have remarkable spirit and huge support so just live the life you want to live.
Chris, UK

You have seen your little girl enjoy snow for the first time? That must have been a delightful occasion; parents relive the fun by osmosis. The very best of luck for March. Think positive; we only use a tiny percentage of our brains anyway (I'm not sure I use any!) so you will be fine!!!!
Jane De Gruchy, England

You are doing this with extraordinary grace Dan Reich, USA

It's a scary place to be sometimes, but the passing of time will ease your anxiety. You are doing this with extraordinary grace, and you will continue to do so.
Dan Reich, USA

As I live my life as a paraplegic, I have days of feeling great and others being overwhelmed with the difficulty of it all. Your diary helps remind me that courage resides in the determination to remain an ordinary human being, enjoying the pleasures of family and friends, good books and music, love and work, as long as possible.
Cheryl Davis, USA

Hey chief, your diary is a great inspiration to me. I commend your courage in getting back to work despite the difficulties. Thank you for the sharing with us a little more of what it is like to be human.
Lev, UK

I worked most of the time during my first bout of chemo. I'm not sure how I managed it or how much I really did but the support from my friends helped me greatly. The woolly feeling eventually goes but there are still foods I can't tackle because I get that chemo nausea feeling and I don't think that will ever change. Fingers and toes still crossed.
Jenny Parkes, Kent

I'm no braver than the next man Steve Jones, UK

When I discovered I had a brain tumour, I was told I had three to 18 months to live. Over seven years later I'm still here, happier and fitter than before. The biggest surprise is I would not have expected to be able to cope as well as I have. Good friends have been essential here. A common and well-intentioned adjective showered upon me over the years is brave.

I'm no braver than the next man. In fact I have been known to jump into someone's arms at the sound of a car back-firing. It's really not been a matter of courage, much more it's been a clear-headed view that if time is limited, the worst thing I could do would be to wallow and waste it. Occasionally this means "brave faces" but usually it's just getting on and living a life.
Steve Jones, UK

My wife is currently battling a rare and particularly aggressive form of kidney cancer and has had amazing results with immunotherapy (Interferon/Interleukin). Without having researched your specific type of cancer, I thought it might be worth looking into as a possible treatment option.
Daniel Postle, Australia

Your daughter's initial reaction to snow brings to mind my own, when I was a young child. I was absolutely positive it was raining sugar and being a huge fan of sweets, I was elated. An enormous mouthful of the stuff quickly convinced me that things are often not as they appear.
Michael Schaudies, USA

Normality is good for the psyche Mel Morris, UK

I have a degenerative condition which affects my joints and your column had me nodding with empathy. I keep saying "Did I always stumble over kerbs that big or is that new?" But don't feel daft - I'm sure I won't be the only one to empathise unless I'm daft too (highly probable!). I'm glad to hear you are back at work; normality is good for the psyche if nothing else. I hope all the readers' well wishes keep you safe.
Mel Morris, UK

Forgetfulness? Don't worry - just a sign of ageing! Everyone thinks "Was I so forgetful last year?"
Philip, England

My husband has been fighting a tumour since March 2000. We too married after diagnoses in our hospice, it was a beautiful time. Your wife will find many unknown strengths, but like me she won't mind one bit, as love comes above everything. God bless.
Jeanie, UK

My mum was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was five. I'm now 27 and she's fit and well. When I told her you were worried about seeing your daughter grow up, she told me she had the same fear when she was ill (something she'd never told me before) and to try to think about your daughter's first day at school, make it your goal, without it there's nothing to aim for. My mum compared it to going on a journey; you wouldn't set out without knowing your destination. Iechyd da!!!
Susan, Wales

I am not at all confident that my cancer has gone Hilary Dibble, UK

Though thinking positively may not help your clinical symptoms, it certainly helped me cope with my treatment. I worked short days throughout, except when I was at my most vulnerable after chemo - and at times I felt as though my brain had been swapped for cotton wool. But I've now been back at work full time for over six months - and I promise you it does get easier. Make the most of all that life can offer until your scan in March. I am not at all confident that my cancer has gone for good and I now focus much more on enjoying life to the full.
Hilary Dibble, UK

In my experience the end of your treatment is very strange time when you find yourself asking many more questions and being a little paranoid. Understandable really for anybody who's endured chemotherapy. One thing I will say is that you need to be true to yourself and that means asking your doctor questions that are giving you concern (no point in taking the ostrich approach).

If you shared this concern with your nearest and dearest they may be more worried than you, so put their mind at rest and ask the doc. Why delay until March? Don't put unnecessary pressure on yourselves for another couple of months.
Warren, UK

Your words have kicked me into high gear Kelly Fox, USA

I've read your column aloud to my mother because as well as a tumour, she is almost completely blind. I find, however, that your words are having quite an effect on ME - I am planning to complete several things I've put off for years and have quite a different outlook on my life each day now. What a change you have made in me!!! How is that possible?? I turn 40 on 8 January and your words have kicked me into high gear - I have the energy I had in my twenties. All from your words. I am astounded. Thanks, Ivan. I owe you one (or two).
Kelly Fox, USA

I think what you are feeling is normal - I stumble over my words all the time and I am 35 and fit. Keep doing what you are doing and look to the sun...
Lisa Kartanou, United Kingdom

I've done night shifts, so I have a small semblance of knowing how you feel... just remember when you wrote about feeling better at the end of the chemo... Glad your little one liked the snow!
Flash Wilson, London, UK

Good to hear you are back at work and getting back into some semblance of normality (if by normal, you mean staring at a screen like the rest of us!). Try not to worry about stumbling over your words. We all do it from time to time and you've said that you're tired too so it's bound to happen.

If you focus on it, you'll make it worse by stressing yourself. Have you ever crept around the house to avoid waking the children? That's the most likely time for you to drop a saucepan on the floor or accidentally slam a door!!
Michael, Netherlands

I've always wanted to write to wish you luck and after re-reading your diary, I still would like to say something but nothing seems to be right. Enjoy seeing your daughter have new "firsts", those memories are the best.
Phil, UK

I still have a hard time grasping the realness of it all Tracey Shumway, US

I am also a brain tumour patient/survivor. Reading your diary today I recognised everything you were talking about. Even now, after being re-diagnosed 10 years later and dealing with treatment and now into the follow up stage, I still have a hard time grasping the realness of it all. You are much more eloquent of course, I just wanted to say thank you for putting into words your experience. It makes me feel better about my own feelings.
Tracey Shumway, US

Ivan, my only hope is that you and Tracey Shumway will recuperate totally.
Rahma, Indonesia

I read about your little daughter. They're a delight, aren't they? I'm fascinated, for several reasons, to have seen that one of the first things babies do (in about the second month of life) is to have a good laugh! Our love and goodwill to you, your baby daughter and wife, knowing that you guys must have discovered that life-enhancing joy since she was born.
Matt, Vera and WInston, Seattle

You sound perfectly normal to me! Use medicine as a tool, keep asking questions and don't believe everything the doctors say - you know your body better than anyone.
Isobel, UK

Have you considered shark's cartilage as an alternative therapy? It's meant to generate very good response rates in cases of brain tumours. Read Sharks Don't Get Cancer.
Jim Rimmer, UK

Please don't try shark cartilage therapy. It has never been scienticifally proven that it works. The people who sell it are trading in false hope and the destruction of a beautiful species. Good luck to you. I check with BBC every day, to see how you are doing and whether you have written again.
Katharine Mayer, Germany