A Brain MRI

They began in February - headaches - which never seemed to stop. I've never suffered from them before, so I knew something was wrong. The problem with melanoma is any little innocuous symptom you might have - let alone constant headaches - could indicate something very serious. Headaches are a symptom of around 50% of those who experience disease progression in the brain. I spent a lot of time online researching any articles which might help establish whether my headaches were melanoma or something else. The most disturbing article I read was about chronic headaches being experienced by a cohort of breast cancer survivors. For those whose headaches went on longer than 9 weeks, 51% were later diagnosed with brain mets. Of course, the article was about breast cancer, but melanoma loves the brain even more than breast cancer, so when the headaches wouldn't quit after three months, I became utterly convinced I was gonna die soon!

Of course, I had to jump through a few hoops to prove, one way or another, whether these headaches were sinister or not. In April, I saw a temporary GP (typically my own GP wasn’t available), who agreed to put me forward for an urgent brain scan. A few days later, radiology team cancelled my scan saying it was unjustified. Immediately, I sent a letter of complaint and managed to get a follow-up appointment with my GP, who requested the scan for a second time. As a backup, I’d also contacted my dermatology team, who willingly agreed to a scan if my local health centre wouldn’t agree. It’s important to point out that no one apart from me felt the headaches were directly caused by melanoma. Both the temporary and my permanent GP put it down to generalised anxiety as did my dad (who had his own battle with skin cancer a decade ago) and the dermatology team. You see, after being ravaged by three primary melanomas and enduring countless biopsies, I was no longer the person I used to be. He was gone long ago. 

Anyway, a week after visiting Bristol to meet the Saudi Surf Team, I was inside a rather loud, giant MRI tube. The noise seemingly went on forever. When I emerged from the tube, I tried to read the face of the nurse who had taken me in (and was now escorting me out) as he had been talking with the radiology technician and probably knew my result. His face looked very sombre, so it seemed very likely my time was running out. I cycled home and immediately started writing down access codes and passwords for my wife to takeover our bank accounts. I guess that is what they call gettting your affairs in order. It was probably the lowest point of my life. 

24 hours later, I got a text. It said the brain scan was normal. Tension and panic was over ….. for now.