Letter to Dr Bart Van Goethem

Dear Dr Bart,

13 November 2015 for many was the day of the Paris Bataclan attack. For me, it was the day you gave me back my life.

You may not remember me, so here’s a picture. I am still this gorgeous, you know!

  

When mum and dad brought me to you, you were not very optimistic about my future. I had anal sack cancer. You said you could give me 1 to 3 years. Most likely, it would be 1 rather than 3.

Mummy and I looked at each other and we agreed we would go for the full 3 years. You repeated that that was not likely.

Today, that being 2 years ago, I just want to let you know that I am still enjoying life. I’m just saying!

I am now in the equally good care of Dr Cindy Van Geffen (Randstad) in Antwerp. I have had 2 minor operations, but since January 2017 they have stopped all interventions because the cancer is in too difficult a place and the Doctor is afraid that it might do more harm than good.

All I get now is chemo. I love the chemo because mummy gives it to me with a bit of paté. Yum!!! She says “chemo”, I start drooling!

The good thing about having cancer is that I am being spoiled left, right and centre. I get to swim in every swimming pool and people pick me up for walks! Mum and dad take me on holiday now, instead of me having to go to the stupid kennel.

This picture was taken in May this year.

This picture was taken on 25 August this year

I also have a blog about my cancer (www.charliesfightagainstcancer.blogspot.be) and mummy says I have more friends on it than she has! Well duh!

In March 2018 I will celebrate my 10^th birthday with – yet another – birthday cake. It will most likely be my last one but that's OK. We are all very happy that we still got to spend such good times with each other.  Let’s just hope the end will not be too difficult.

So thank you - thank you - thank you! I will never forget what you did for me.

Charlie Mitchell

I'm still standing

Hi there. It’s been a while now. I’ve got loads to tell you. I’ve been on holiday a couple of times, I’ve been swimming in rivers, ponds and swimming pools all over the country, I’ve been to the hospital a couple of times but most importantly: 

I can’t see the rainbow anymore! 

Mum says it’s probably because I am getting old and I need glasses!

Last time I wrote on my blog, I had just been told by Doctor Cindy that that was that! No more operations. I was going to live whatever time was left and then….. over the rainbow.

So my Mum and Dad and all my friends like Sophie and grandad and Geert and Lief and Melissa and Dominique and Stefan and many others decided to spoil me rotten. So here’s all the things that I’ve been doing:

In March I went to the hospital for a check-up. Doctor Cindy told me that the cancer had hardly grown. The lymph nodes had gone from 1.5 cm to 2.1 cm. I have 3 of those bastards.

Liver and spleen still good! The main tumour in my bum is not back yet. The chemo is doing its job!

In March I celebrated my 9^th birthday! Mummy and Sophie made me a big cake with banana and carrots and biscuits and yoghourt!

They never thought I’d make it! It took me 2 minutes to finish it...

It may have been my last birthday cake. It may not…

So Sophie was in Belgium for a couple of days too. We always have great fun. We do lots of walks and cuddling.

Then there is Melissa. I love Melissa. She picks me up every now and then and we always do fun things. She treated me to a weekend at the seaside with a Bongo voucher. 

I went with Mum and Dad before the Easter holidays, when doggies can still run freely on the beach. I had loads of fun there. And guess who joined us: grandad! Don’t know where he came from all of a sudden but look: there he was!

It may have been my last time on the beach. But then again, it may not…

Shortly after that, I was invited to come along to a party at Dominique and Stefan and the happy six’s house. They have a swimming pool you know. 

Now, if you have been following my blog with only one eye, you know what that means! Exactly! Great fun!

It may have been my last time in the pool. But then again, it may not…

Then Mum and Dad decided to take me back to the Ardennes where we went last year. Last time the water was really high and the current strong. Swimming was really dangerous. This year, it was much better. I played in the water for days.

We didn’t walk that much. I can’t run that long anymore. I am getting old you know. One day I was so tired that Mum had to lift my bum up the stairs! How embarrassing is that?

Mum and Dad took me to this fabulous place last year on a so-called “last holiday together” and look: there we were again.

It may have been my last time this year. But then again, it may not….

Today, we went back to the hospital for a check-up. Guess what? The cancer has hardly grown. It went from 2.12 cm to 2.45 cm. That’s even less than last time!

Doctor Cindy said that where the cancer is, I have enough space in my tummy for the cancer not to bother me any time soon. Mummy thought the cancer would crush the main artery into my rear legs and paralyse me but Doctor Cindy said that the artery lining is too strong for that to happen. My spleen and liver are still clear! The chemo is doing its job! 

Take that you stupid cancer!

Doctor Cindy also said that, as I am getting a bit older, my walks shouldn’t be that long anymore. Mum and Dad were quite happy to hear that. They never thought I’d get this far. They’d rather see me deteriorate from old age, than from stupid cancer.

So there you go. I am still standing. And you know what? I can’t see the rainbow anymore…. Maybe I don’t want to see it yet.

But then again, neither do Mum and Dad!

I can see the rainbow from where I’m standing

Hi there, it’s me again. Mum and I went to the hospital again in January for my quarterly check-up. I was put on the machine again by Doctor Cindy. She saw a small lymph node again in my tummy so Mum made an appointment to have it removed. She knows I can handle it.

On the day of the operation, Mum dropped me off and went to the office. About a quarter to ten in the morning, Doctor Cindy called Mum in the office to tell her that she had taken a closer look at the ultrasound images of my tummy, together with the doctor who was going to remove the cancer. They had decided that it was too dangerous to operate because there was a small lymph node between an artery and my spine. I am in good shape right now and anything going wrong in the operation could ruin that.

Mummy agreed that the best thing to do was not to operate anymore and let me enjoy whatever time I have left. So she picked me back up from the hospital around lunch time. That’s it, no more operations….

Doctor Cindy doesn’t really know how much time I have left so she will do an ultrasound every 2 to 3 months to see how the cancer evolves. Eventually, she said, I will probably stop eating and die of liver failure. Mum and dad don’t believe that there will ever be a day that I will stop eating, but there you go. There is a first time for everything.

The Doctor said that there was stronger chemotherapy, but it is very expensive, it will not cure me, and there will be side effects. Mum and dad feel strongly about it: not because of the money issue, but because they do not want me to suffer any more than necessary. The stronger chemo is not an option. The Doctor understands that.

Obviously, this is not the best news I’ve had. Mum and Dad, however, are at peace with it. I was diagnosed with cancer in September 2015. I was given another year. We have had a great year – and longer – together and as long as I am still well, Mum and Dad are happy.

But they are going to spoil me rotten, they said – even more! We started with a great long walk in the Beeltjens in Westerlo with my mate Clovis and his family. If I hang around till the summer, they promised me I could come over for a swim in their pool.

Mum and Dad have noticed that I am a bit less energetic than I used to be. I sleep a bit more but there are no signs of pain or discomfort. They said I can sleep as long and as often as I like. Also, I am almost 9 years old. I am getting a bit older. 9 years! 

Who would have thought that I would still make that? I wonder which cake mum is going to get me this year…

Mum and Dad talk about “the day” of course. They know it will be a difficult one but they are determined not to stretch it any longer than necessary.

My best friend Sophie is gutted obviously, but I want her to know that I’ve had – and still am having – a good life and I am grateful for her friendship. We all have to accept the inevitable and I need her to be brave about this. And even though I can see the rainbow from where I’m standing, I’m sure we’ll still have good times next time she comes to Belgium.

 Charlie