On the 4th July 2023 on rainy and cold day, inside my GP’s office the source of a 10/12-week old and, at times, a really debilitating back injury was uncovered:

a 7cm lesion growing in my sacrum (the base of the spine), eating into my pelvic bone and wrapping itself around my S1 nerve. If that sounds shocking, it was. And mulling it over post the initial diagnosis over and over felt about 100 times worse. Over the next several days further MRI and CT scans diagnosed it as an aggressive cancer.

On the 8th August, about 4 weeks following my initial diagnosis, I hobbled into my orthopedic surgeon’s office for the results of a biopsy and he gave me another curveball: it was metastatic melanoma. Stage 4, but a notably better prognosis. We started the journey again now with the melanoma team at Peter MacCallum.

We quickly began the global gold standard for unresectable tumours: intravenously fed two immunotherapy drugs: nivolumab and and ipilumumab.  

There is no way to prepare yourself for the experience of undergoing an infusion in the ward at a cancer hospital. You can’t escape the personal battles being waged all around you and, despite a sense of shared comradery in the war, there is an overwhelming crush of fear and worry amongst all those of us unlucky enough to find themselves there. About nine days after my first treatment, I actually fell quite ill. I had a crushing pain flare whilst at home one evening and had to be rushed to emergency and pumped full of fentanyl. I had no idea then if my treatment was working and no idea if I’d ever be able to walk unencumbered again. Upon returning home after four days in hospital I was juiced to the eyeballs on painkillers. I had to endure watching my 10-year old daughter and wife make up medicine packs and cut opioid tablets for me and it was truly heartbreaking. The sheer weight of what cancer had imposed on us all was crushing all over again.

But.....I have a picture my oncologist shared with me just recently: it is the cross-section of six individual PET scans I have had. Starting with August 2023 on the left, just before treatment began, and finishing with November 2024 on the right. To the untrained eye it is hard to tell the difference but there is a dark spot at the base of my spine in the first picture and over the next 16 months, with a slight exception, the dark spot gets lighter and lighter to the point of where I stand here today it is only faintly visible: - a marker of no evidence of metabolic activity.

In many ways this picture represents both my own incredible medical journey but also it showcases the evolution of human science.

To have melanoma cancer treatment in Australia in 2024 is to be acutely aware of the power and majesty of science: as recently as 2014 the average life expectancy for my own type of cancer would be a shocking 9 months. 

Today, as I head towards 20 months since diagnosis a recent peer-reviewed study shows that 95% of people in my situation who make it to three years, continue on for at least another 10 and likely significantly beyond. 

I am raising funds again this year alongside my family to help push forward this incredible medical journey. Not every melanoma patient today is as lucky as I have been. There is still a lot of work to do: both in awareness and also in curative medicine.

If you can help out please consider doing so & to everyone thank you with the deepest & sincerest gratitude. 

 

Scott