Tumour diary: Finishing chemo

BBC News Online science and technology writer Ivan Noble was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumour in August last year.

Since then he has been sharing his experiences in a weekly online diary.

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"Congratulations!" said my doctor, as we shook hands and I left his consulting room.

I have just picked up the tablets for my last round of chemotherapy.

On Sunday I will have finished five and a half months of treatment - six weeks of radiotherapy followed by four months of chemo, all of it, thankfully, as an outpatient.

I know now what it means to be cautiously optimistic

When we started my treatment my oncologist said that I was a young man with everything to fight for and that we would "throw the book" at the tumour.

Now that we have finished hurling medical literature about, I have dates in my diary early in March for a brain scan which will tell us where it landed.

Smack bang on top of the tumour is where I hope it went.

Hoping for the best

I know now what it means to be cautiously optimistic.

I am not superstitious but at the same time making plans as far ahead as summer feels like tempting fate.

I feel and look fit and well and I am looking forward to February - a whole month without medical appointments.

I want to fly to Hong Kong, where my brother lives, to see my first and only nephew, who I have only seen in photos.

And I want to hatch plans for one or two less grand weekend trips closer to home.

It seems to work if I take things a month at a time.

I planned nothing for February and put off anyone who tried to pin me down for anything until I saw the doctor today.

Now February feels like a present I have been given, a big chunk of time not spoken for, like a freshly snowed upon lawn.

Thanks for support

In the past I have said thank you for all the e-mails of support I have had but I am particularly moved to say thank you again this week.

I have had a sudden spate of interviews to do and I am always asked what makes me write this column.

Sometimes I ask myself the same question, but it is always answered when I read e-mails saying "thanks for reminding me why I'm in science" or from someone saying it has helped them in the way they care for patients.

Just after I was diagnosed in August, my wife said to me that, whatever happened, we should try to make something positive out of what was happening to me.

I was and am deeply grateful to her for everything she said and did for me in those black and desperate days and if I have managed to do as she suggested in this column then I am very happy.

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Your e-mails to Ivan

I was treated for breast cancer two years ago, at the age of 28. I have one of the breast cancer genes, and so cancer will almost certainly be a recurring theme in my life, as it has been for my mum, grandma, great grandma, et al. So here's my philosophy: Longevity is overrated. Have fun, be happy, live now.
Cary, UK

I am 65 - you are half my age and this morning's doom and gloom has been completely dispelled by reading your column. I am a Christian and will be praying for you and your family but I am humbled that you are brave enough to write it all down, we are sharing with you. God Bless
Clare GW, England

Make plans - that's not tempting fate - that's about living Dave Bennett, Gloucester

I finished my chemo in March 1977. Chemo was barely two years old then. My oncologist told me I had everything to live for. Make plans - that's not tempting fate - that's about living. Your wife is a star. The patient is brave to face the treatment; the partner also needs support, for they could be forgotten. Keep in touch - we need to hear from you. You inspire the others who may face the same tunnel of doubt.
Dave Bennett, Gloucester

You are walking tall mate, in the way you have met what can only be described as everyone's worst nightmare.
Mal Gray, Wales

I've been reading your column since it started, following all the treatments, agonies, joys and thoughts. I've never sent a message before because I didn't really know what to say. I was humbled into just looking out of the window and thinking. I had a major accident a few years ago and nearly lost everything. Somehow I survived, it does happen. I'm not ashamed to say a tear appeared when I read today's. I had to go for walk away from the office. Keep believing, it does happen.
Paul Bakewell, UK

You let thousands of nosy people like me into your life Sue, UK

It's surprising how the trauma of a complete stranger can be so inspiring and how interested I have been in your progress. Every week I have read your column hoping for some good news as you let thousands of nosy people like me into your life. It puts my petty, stupid problems into perspective - does it really matter if I have a new power shower or not? No it doesn't! Get a grip girl!
Sue, UK

What a fantastic metaphor and how appropriate for this month. It is not the life you live but the way you live it. There are tragic people who live long lives in constant mental pain and anguish... and you dear boy are helping so many people. It is lovely and we all sincerely hope that you live a lovely life, be it long or not, may it be filled with love. Keep writing please.
Ann Carrington, Britain

My heart goes out to you, I know how difficult it can be. My wife had a tumour and had extensive long-term chemo followed by surgery. It was often very hard for but now she is fine and it was all worth it, both for her and the rest of us.
Bob Shields, United Kingdom

Your article today is just so upbeat it was like a breath of fresh air in my day. Enjoy February.
Philip, England

Ivan, my sister-in-law had cancer which was successfully treated by chemo 18 months ago. A side effect was not being able to have children in future. She now has a six-month-old daughter which the doctors proclaim as a miracle. Have hope that all things are possible; have determination to make the most of your time on earth, no matter how long or short and have fun!
James, UK

Ivan; I have just realised... you write in the past tense now about 'black and desperate days'. Your column is filled with good tones. You have come so very, very far.
Mel, London

I have been in tears with hopelessness Jenny, UK/Australia

My mother has just been diagnosed with cancer and all week I have been in tears with helplessness and hopelessness. A friend e-mailed me your site and I am amazed at your optimism and fine spirits. It has made me think more positively. I will continue to read your weekly diary and wish you all the very best.
Jenny, UK/Australia

Have you seen the Dipex website? It's very good and is a database of patient experiences. Very useful for people who want to know more from people who have had similar troubles. Congratulations, after four months of chemo myself I know what it can be like.
Paul Eggleton, UK

I work for a cancer charity, not had the best of work days but reading your column makes me remember why I joined in the first place.
Kieron Scott, UK

Living in London it is easy to get caught up in money and status Pamela Rodgers, Britain

I was made redundant three weeks after Christmas 2002 and again three weeks before Christmas 2003. I have spent a lot of time thinking what a bad year I had... Reading your column I realised how lucky I was to have seen the year through and actually celebrated Christmas. Living in London it is very easy to get caught up in work, money and status. What does any of it matter without your health and your family? An important lesson to learn in these economically tough times.
Pamela Rodgers, Britain

I have been reading your column every week so I thought it was about time I wrote back to you. Thank you for reminding me that every month is a gift for all of us - I think we all have a habit of forgetting that.
Angeline, UK

You often read facts and figures about cancer in the news and it makes you feel sometimes that we are all just numbers, void of any heart or conscience. Reading your emotions has really shown that behind every number there is a human being whose illness impacts so many other people. So thank you for sharing these very personal thoughts to a wide audience.
James, Sweden

Good on you son. Never underestimate the power of impossible. You survive this and we have a story to share with the rest of the world with making impossibles possible. Go for it and stay blessed, as I am still praying for you.
Hakeem Abimbola, UK

Do something wild in February Liz Gold-Lewis, Topsham, Devon

Ivan, my toes and fingers are gnarled from being crossed for you over the past few months. I will have to superglue them till March when you have your scan! What a learning curve you and your family have been on. Thank you, yet again, for bringing us with you so far. Why not do something wild in February?
Liz Gold-Lewis, Topsham, Devon

Your column has been a great help to me. My father passed away four years ago and never talked much about his cancer treatment or his feelings, it was very hard to understand why he felt he couldn't share this with us (to the point that neither my brother or I realised he was so ill). Your column has been a much-needed insight into how he must have been feeling. I wish you and your family a wonderful and healthy future, I hope the scary times are far outweighed by the good.
Caroline, UK

Well done Ivan, you certainly are a fighter. You rolled with the punches, ducked and covered and now you have floored your enemy with an almighty uppercut! Cancer is a word that scares a lot of people and you could have given up, but with your family, friends and us (on the net) in your corner there was only gonna be one winner. All the best and enjoy your breaks.
Gennaro Corrado, UK

Concerning throwing the book at the tumour, don't just limit yourself to one, throw the entire library at it! You're doing fab, keep going and good luck for the scan!
Alexandra Evans, UK

What a landmark, congratulations! I look forward to reading your diary every week, it is a message of hope in an all too often miserable, cynical world. Although, if you are now better, what am I going to read on a Thursday to remind me that life is for grabbing and enjoying? All my best - have some great time off, but never, ever stop writing!
Rosie Brent, UK

I was a bit sad this morning for a couple of reasons. After reading your column and your optimism I feel enthused and determined to take a fresh look at things. You are more inspirational than you may possibly realise. Thank you.
Dave Tuttle, UK