Victor's Oddyssey

Life form. Human being. Self-expressionist. Victor Salander.

Life form. Human being. Self-expressionist. Victor Salander. victorsalander.substack.com

  1. Dreamscape Diaries: Morphine Trippin On Garam Masala

    1d ago

    Dreamscape Diaries: Morphine Trippin On Garam Masala

    Cycle 13, day whatever. Wednesday, June 17th, 3:48 in the morning. I want to relay a lighter experience, as I got the privilege to currently experience it very weirdly. If you’ve heard my last messages, it’s light in the context of this much harder overall journey that I’m now making together with all of you guys. But yeah, let’s start on the lighter note here. Enter Morphine What’s happened over the last couple of weeks, basically, is that due to me having such constant pain and pressure internally from tumor activity and swelling around my thoracic back and around the liver, I’ve started to take anti-pain agents for the first time in my life. The family of anti-pain agents that you usually land with when you have organ failure, from my understanding, is the morphine family—or maybe it’s called the opioid family. Within that family, you have a lot of different varieties of morphine. The one I first got acquainted with was a fast-acting one in pill form. The reason I needed it was that I’d spent two days in the hospital bed, and that bed really doesn’t work for me and my back. My back completely shut down on me and started to cramp up and stiffen. That pain didn’t allow me to sleep anything. So after my brother Philip helped me source an improvised bed of hard, tough mattresses on the floor, I also asked for some kind of pain relief and started off with five milligrams of direct-acting morphine, which kicks in and is supposed to stay in the system for five-plus hours. Quite soon thereafter, in the middle of the night, I felt it didn’t suffice, so I took another five milligrams. For a few days, I only had the fast-acting morphine to test, and I tested it quite cautiously. I didn’t want to just up the dosage. I actually lowered the dosage by each day. So I just had five milligrams in the night and nothing in the daytime. But then, after a week in the hospital ward, my body was in an even worse state, and I was to leave anyway. It was for the better, because that environment kills you. Just the beeps in the middle of the night. Never-ending sterile interiors. The hierarchy of the nurses. Some of them having superfluous tasks based on protocol where they want to check in on you in the middle of the night to take your blood pressure, and you have to meddle with them in order not to be woken up four or five hours earlier than they actually need to take some blood sample. Just a lot of those things. Slow-Acting Experiments After coming back home, still in the same s****y health state, I spoke to the nurses helping me at home. They seemed more adept at this pain-relief thing. So they introduced me to slow-acting morphine, which is a different formulation. It’s also in pill form, but the way it’s formulated means your body takes it up much more slowly, spread out over time. That’s the main one I’ve been using since. I’ve tried different dosages, but what seems to be working for me now is to have two pills a few hours before going to bed. Then they start acting throughout the night. I’ve been unsure about the daytime pain relief, because in the daytime I’m still popping corticosteroids—prednisolone—which, as you guys know, I’m very ambivalent about. We’ve tried fast-acting morphine during the daytime as well, but one of the most annoying things with that one is that every time I’ve taken it, it has 100% induced what I call “locked ears syndrome.” You feel like you have an airlock in your ears. Given that I want to try and have a few people over every now and then—the few that I have energy to meet, which is like one or two people per day maximum—that locked-ears feeling is such a handicap. I’m trying to at least look people in the eye while talking to them and trying to express myself and have us share this genuine, emotionally intimate moment. But then I have the locked ears, which is bizarre. So I tell anyone who comes by that I need to look down sometimes, because when I look down, the airlock dissipates for a few seconds. Which is super weird. Then again, the fast-acting one also seems like the level of morphine goes up in the blood much faster and isn’t steady over time. You could have a pump put in and fully control the rate, but I don’t think I want the rate to be the same throughout the day. So I’ll probably stick with the slow-acting one for now. The Hundred-Foot Journey What happened at the end of the day was that I had taken a quick-acting one via syringe, and that one was starting to dissipate. I made the choice to take one five-milligram slow-acting pill in the afternoon, and then, similar to before, I took two a few hours before going to bed. What that effectively did was create a peak in the middle of the night which should correspond to fifteen milligrams of slow-acting morphine. For some reason, it gave me a high. A few days ago, I had suggested to my brother Philip and Jonna that I wanted the three of us to watch a movie together. I wanted us to find a movie that was quite light-hearted, where we could all relax together and get into a nice state of mind where we could reflect a bit more and ideally release more emotionally. After some back and forth, Jonna found a movie called The Hundred-Foot Journey. It mainly takes place in France. An Indian family ends up in the French countryside wanting to start an Indian restaurant, and their neighbor is a one-Michelin-star French restaurant run by an older lady. It was a really nice movie. You can imagine it as a clash of cultures and cuisines—France and India. We all appreciated it. The movie ended. We had some discussions. People went to bed. Morphine Trippin’ on Garam Masala During the night, I felt this high—the peak of the morphine kicking in. It felt so weird. I had this rush, and my mind connected the rush to the Indian cuisine. So when the rush came, it was like when the Indian spices came into the dish. These rushes came and went because the way I’m trying to sleep right now is weird as well. I don’t have any position where I can fully relax. So I’m constantly switching positions, but there are only a few positions available to me at all. I’m trying to lie on my side, basically only on the right side of my torso. Then there are minute variations, and very often I need to get up from that position and reset. The reset is where I’m kind of half-lying, half-sitting in a child’s pose with my elbows bent at ninety degrees. My elbows have had so much pressure on them these last couple of weeks. It’s insane. I’ve just been in this cramped-up child’s pose. But throughout the night, I’m still having a bit of this high at the peak. So it’s an interesting, very confusing experience. At first, I didn’t really know what was happening because the rushes were so intense. I’m also sensing a sweetness in my palate from this chemical, biochemical rush. When I’m trying to rehydrate, there’s already a taste in my mouth from the experience. I’m currently trying to very aggressively rehydrate with water and electrolytes. I picked one with flavoring, which I usually don’t do. But because I have to drink so much salt now, it’s hard to just have that salt flavor all the time. So I have a citrus flavoring. But then there was this other flavor on my tongue while I was drinking it. Which is interesting. We’ll see what the rest of the night has to offer. As always, it will be unsteady sleep. But at least for tonight, I might have some more highs. Sleep in Limbo If you have any funny sleeping experiences, relay them. I find it fascinating to ponder sleep, especially when your health is in such a limbo. There are so many things that can happen to your sleep experience. If I showed you my sleep curves, especially for the last month, but even more so for the last two weeks, they’re as scattered as any human sleep could possibly be. It’s like, from one minute to the next, I’m sleeping or awake. But I think through the tenacity I built by just staying in bed and not allowing myself to be psychologically burdened by having such interrupted sleep, I’m still almost always able to rack up four and a half hours at least. And if I’m lucky, it’s even six or six and a half hours. I think I managed that the other day. So even through these rougher patches of this journey—and they are definitely rough—every day requires so much from me now to hold on and to try and have this equilibrium, at least just slowly disintegrating as opposed to fully crashing. I’m still thankful for some moments here and there. And I’ll continue to be thankful for any small, small, small win that I can get. Bless you all, fam. Be mindful of your life force. Namaste. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit victorsalander.substack.com

    16 min
  2. Farewell, Longevity Fighters

    3d ago

    Farewell, Longevity Fighters

    Dear Longevity Fighters, It’s unfortunate that I have to announce that my longevity journey is about to end. After struggling for the past two years to the utmost of my abilities, trying to lift every stone that I could see along the path, and through this gut-wrenching, instinctual, nerve-wracking, endless, ceaseless struggle to find a way to combat the diagnosis of widely spread Stage IV GEJ adenocarcinoma, things have unfortunately reached a dead end. My liver is completely failing on me, and there is no solution in sight. If you know me well, then you know I will have tried to find every last drop of possibility to solve this. But there isn’t one. No longevity cure currently existing would be able to reverse my trend right now. So unfortunately, now it’s just a matter of days left. It’s a pity. I really appreciate some of the friendships I made here in this group and how we bonded over our shared interest in prolonging and promoting life force. There are so many aspects to this—whether biological, such as supplementation and diet; musculoskeletal and nervous system health; psychological health; neuroendocrine health—you name it. But it’s been a treat. Especially those of you I’ve met in person and built close connections with. Eric being the main one. I have to say: Love you, Eric. And I can only hope for the very best for the rest of you guys in your journey onward—in terms of promoting life balance, longevity, health, and increasing your healthspan. I’m hoping that some of you will be able to celebrate your 100-year anniversary together, still in quite good health. My personal conviction is not that any of you will ever live forever. I don’t think that’s the point of longevity anyway. Life has a cycle. There is a natural cycle to life. But the longer you can extend it while still living a healthy life, the better. The more value you can extract for yourself, the more value you can also bring back to your community. Not much more to say. Just hoping for all of you to embrace your life force and to really hone in on that life balance. As I always say: Be mindful of your life force, fam. Much love to all of you. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit victorsalander.substack.com

    4 min
  3. A Warm Farewell

    4d ago

    A Warm Farewell

    Fam. Most beloved fam. We’re here in my bedroom. It’s June 17th. Quarter past one at night. Cycle 13. Day... it doesn’t matter anymore. Because this is the last cycle. This is the last one. And I’m here for sending myself off, and sharing this last step in the journey with you guys. A journey that has been such a toil for me. Such hard labor. To give you a bit of an overview, because this is going to be quite a long message from my side, I’ll start off by focusing on this last part of my life’s journey. The last two years battling metastatic cancer. I’ll turn some of those stones again for you guys, but also for myself, to reminisce and to try and encapsulate what a f*****g struggle this has been. It’s inhuman. It really is. Metastatic cancer is such an inhuman situation to be going through. Inhumane. And then, if I still have the energy, I want to open myself up even more for you guys and talk about my whole life story. The remaining 38 years stretching back. Try and find some narrative there. That will be what it will be. But I want to try and find some way of being a bit more open now, in this last message with you. Because one of the things I realized quite early in life, but started to implement more and more, is how important it is to be genuine with the people you care about. And I intend to be that all the way here. So let’s see what comes out. And then, going through that, I’m hoping we’ll end up in gratitude and appreciation. And the ultimate aim for me now, in this last stage, is release. To find some sort of release. Even through all the pain I’m experiencing right now. To find resolve and emotional release from all of this. I’m hoping you’ll stay with me for this whole journey. You don’t have to listen through it in one go. It’s going to be hours long, probably. But I’d very much appreciate it if anyone gets anything out of this. And I’ll probably be around for a few more days. So feel very free to write me. Even if you’ve just been a pure stalker up until now throughout these two years, which I feel is completely understandable as well. It’s so hard to approach this life situation, especially if you can’t relate from your own day-to-day life. But this is my way to connect back to you once more. And I’ll try to do it from the deepest of places now. I just need a bit of beverage before getting going. That was the introduction. The Beginning Of The End Imagine yourself being a 37-year-old Swedish man. You’ve just arrived in Italy. It’s summertime. You’re about to attend the wedding of two very dear friends. These friends had the brilliant idea of asking all of their guests to chip in a bit extra so they could stage the wedding in the most lovely old monastery. An old convent sitting atop a hill overlooking the Tuscan countryside. You are driving a rental car together with your girlfriend. You’ve already spent a few days in the area and are now winding your way up a country road toward the monastery. From a distance, you catch sight of it. A tall stone tower. A sprawling complex. Perched above the landscape. Five or ten minutes later, you arrive. Guests are pouring in. People are greeting one another. Many haven’t seen each other in years. We’re all accommodated in these tiny former nuns’ chambers in the tower. And we’re in for such a treat. A three-day celebration. Everything is lovely. The food. The weather. The company. The love. I remember especially the groom’s friendship circle. For a group of Swedish men, they were remarkably emotionally close. You could tell they genuinely opened up to one another in a way I hadn’t often witnessed among large groups of men in Sweden. I felt welcomed into that community. The main wedding day began with the ceremony itself. Then followed a long wedding night. A lot of dancing. One of my favorite things in life. I love long nights of wedding dancing. Even cultures where people don’t normally dance will dance at weddings. And I want everyone to dance when there’s a dance floor. So I was dancing. Carousing. Enjoying life. Then came the morning after. Jonna and I woke up. And I noticed a small bulge on the left side of my neck. I thought: “This is clearly just a lymph node, right?” I’d had enlarged lymph nodes before. Usually from infections. They always disappeared. But this was unusual. It was in my neck. So I thought: “I’ll look into it when I get home.” We still had over a week left of vacation. We continued to the Tuscan coast. Had a lovely time. No obvious symptoms. Then we flew home. The very next day I was back at work. And almost immediately I started feeling strange. My head felt like it was in a frying pan. I couldn’t focus. Couldn’t concentrate. I felt stupid. I told my colleagues I couldn’t focus on numbers or tasks. And with each passing day it got worse. Soon I was visiting the emergency room. Then again. And again. And again. Because I looked healthy. I looked like a fit middle-aged man. Younger than my age, even. I’m almost certain most of them assumed I was a hypochondriac. But I kept going back. Six. Seven times. Until finally they agreed to biopsy the lymph node. By then I had already found two additional enlarged nodes. And another one deep beneath the clavicle. I still had no idea what was going on. The biopsy eventually came back. At first, I was told there was no cancer. Negative. But the doctor had only read the first page. His superior caught the mistake. The second page showed findings strongly suggestive of malignancy. Not lymphoma. Something else. A cancer that had spread into the lymphatic system from somewhere else. That was the beginning. And from there, everything accelerated. Diagnosis, Treatment, and the War Room Now that there was evidence of malignancy, I finally became part of the system. Once cancer enters the picture, the machinery starts moving. I was sent for a PET-CT scan. A PET scan is one of the standard tools used to identify metabolically active tumor tissue throughout the body. The procedure is quite fascinating. First, you’re given beta blockers. Most people know beta blockers as medication used to dampen anxiety, but in this context they serve a different purpose. They reduce uptake in brown fat tissue so that the scan becomes easier to interpret. Then you’re injected with radioactive glucose. The principle is straightforward. Most cancer cells are extraordinarily hungry for glucose. They rely heavily on glucose metabolism and therefore absorb more of the radioactive tracer than most healthy tissues. After the injection, you lie in the scanner. The PET portion shows where the radioactive glucose accumulates. The CT portion provides information about tissue structure and density. Overlay those two layers together and you have a powerful tool for identifying suspicious areas. A few days later, the results came back. They had found the primary tumor. A large lesion located in the gastroesophageal junction — the area where the esophagus meets the stomach. In Swedish it’s called the magmun. The muscular gateway between the esophagus and the stomach. A place I had never really thought about before. Why would I? I hadn’t experienced reflux. I hadn’t experienced obvious swallowing difficulties. Nothing that would have made me suspect that area. Yet there it was. A tumor approximately three by three centimeters in size. Occupying roughly a third of the circumference of the esophagus at that location. And that wasn’t all. The scan also revealed extensive lymphatic spread. Twenty. Maybe thirty lymph nodes. Lighting up. Some around the esophagus. Others stretching down into the abdomen. Others reaching up into the neck. The disease had already established itself throughout the lymphatic system. I was handed the diagnosis. Stage IV cancer. Metastatic cancer. What many people simply call terminal cancer. Palliative cancer. The statistics are brutal. The question is often not if. It’s when. The Surgeon The first specialist I met was a surgeon. I was referred to Karolinska Huddinge, where they specialize in upper gastrointestinal cancers. The first thing they wanted to do was visually confirm the tumor through an endoscopy. A gastroscopy. A tube down the throat. I chose not to take full anesthesia. A mistake. I would never make that decision again. You feel everything. The tube. The gag reflex. The convulsions. The sensation of your body trying to reject the foreign object. It’s like having someone shove an arm down your throat while your body desperately tries to expel it. A Matrix moment. Like when Neo has all the cables pulled from his body. Horrible. Afterwards I met with the surgeon. He began discussing what surgery would actually mean. And it terrified me. To remove the tumor, they would need to remove the entire gastroesophageal junction. But not only that. They would also need to remove roughly two-thirds of the stomach. The practical outcome would resemble a severe gastric bypass. A drastically reduced stomach. No natural barrier between stomach acid and esophagus. Constant reflux. Permanent digestive limitations. I remember leaving that conversation with a single conviction: If there is any possible way to avoid that surgery, I will. The Oncologist Then came the oncologist. The first oncologist I met was not a people person. He had already decided what he was going to say before entering the room. He sat down. Barely maintained eye contact. And told me: “You have stage IV cancer. This is a death sentence.” That was essentially the message. Delivered coldly. Clinically. Without humanity. Now, I don’t need false hope. I never have. Truth matters. But if you’re going to tell someone the hardest truth of their life, at least look them in the eye. At least create a dialogue. At least acknowledge the person sitting in front of you. Instead, it felt as though the conversation was already over before it began. Jon

    5h 5m
  4. The Twisted Adaptability Of The Human Life Form

    Jun 6

    The Twisted Adaptability Of The Human Life Form

    Cycle 13 Day 24. Wednesday, June 3rd. 5:22 in the morning. The twisted adaptability of the human life form. I realized, laying here in my new all-time low in life, how completely twisted our human life form is. How completely devoid of context it can be in its search to adapt to new oncoming environments, contexts, and challenges. Let me just prop up the phone so I don’t have to hold it. Maybe that’s better. Okay. So I’ll give you guys the rundown. This will be quite a long rundown indeed, on my all-time low. The Descent Picture yourself being Victor, having gone through your third retreatment with aggressive systemic therapy, but still in a context where you feel like you’re in control. You have the clear downward spiral of the four-day systemic treatment, surrounded by a six-day concomitant water fast, going into the slow but often somewhat steady recovery, which normally requires an additional week to get your bearings straight and to be able to refeed, to gradually strengthen yourself, and to get back into an active life. Even getting back into strength training and other reparative and restorative protocols, such as good diet, sauna, social life, creativity, et cetera. A lot of hassle has gone down the road during all of these treatment cycles. But what happened specifically, how this actually kicked off, was me, on a Friday, expecting to start treatment on a Monday for the 12th cycle, suddenly being informed that my oncologist had delayed treatment without informing me prior to postponing the treatment. Of course, that put everything in limbo. I was there on a Friday. I wasn’t able to revert that decision because the oncologist didn’t give me any head notice, and once I was informed, it was too late in the day to make any changes. But the initial thing that triggered that delay in his mind was that one blood marker especially, LD (lactate dehydrogenase), had doubled. It was still basically within the reference interval, but it had doubled from one reading to the next. So he was concerned that I had had some kind of reaction to prior treatment that we should monitor, to see that this value didn’t escalate, but rather came down. Then we monitored it for a few days and it remained stable. A week later, I went through the third retreatment, my 12th cycle. Then I was able to recover from that. There were some further delays for me to get the scan follow-up because of scheduling mishaps and mistakes that are directly blameable to my contact nurse, basically. Anyway, once we got the scan back and had a meeting with the oncologist, things looked a bit bleaker. It was my first scan whilst having ongoing treatment where not all of the signals we picked up prior showed clear signs of regression. In addition, there were new signals. And those new signals were no longer just inside the lymphatic system. They were namely seen in the liver. There was some increased activity picked up in the hilum, or potentially adjacent to the hilum in a lymph node pushing on the hilum. Then the radiologists commented that they saw vague increased uptake throughout the liver, basically. That might be an anomaly, in terms of it just being an artifact. But they also saw some diffuse areas, at maybe three or four points in the liver, that could be explained by diffuse tumor activity or by some inflammatory state. Anyway, this didn’t point in the right direction in terms of my treatment working efficiently enough, which was a bummer. I was basically standing with the choice of whether to proceed with the current treatment or to change it. And it seemed straightforward to change it. I had two options, basically. One was to switch to another chemo that was similar to the one I was doing. The same kind of cocktail, but instead of FOLFOX it would be FOLFIRI. A bit of an increase in risk to damaging the gut, but I was reasoning that this risk of damage should be offset by me fasting. But then we had the other option, which was potentially more potent and, importantly, a new mechanism as opposed to the other mechanisms of action of the treatment. This one is quite different from the other ones. Namely Enhertu, which is an antibody. But it’s an antibody specifically binding to the HER2 receptors that are overexpressed in my tumor, as evidenced by numerous tissue samples. These antibodies also have bound to them a chemo drugs. So once they are bound to a tumor cell, preferably, and that tumor cell engulfs the antibody, it will also engulf these chemo drugs. And if effective, they will have the cell collapse in on itself. Once that cell is broken down, those chemo molecules can exert a second-level “bystander effect” on new cells in the adjacent territory, where they could have additional damage caused to either healthy cells or tumor cells. So I was placed with this decision. And I made the decision for the more aggressive, potentially more effective option in Enhertu, which had many more unknowns. This bystander effect and the mechanism through which it is taken up by cells firstly makes it less advantageous to combine with water fasting, because the other chemos are mainly taken up by cells that are metabolically active. They are taken up through the growth pathways. So if you’re fasting, your healthy cells will be less receptive to those. Whereas with HER2, it’s less about how metabolically active a cell is to decide whether something will be taken up or not. However, you could have some protective effect by fasting still, as once those molecules are in the cell, they might be less likely to cause damage if a cell is in a protective fasting state. So I decided to go with that treatment and do a three-day fast instead. The Treatment Shift Now we’re already going into the week starting with Monday, May 11th. What had occurred the week before that was that I had my last strength training session, and since then I haven’t been able to go back to the gym, which we’ll get to. On Sunday, May 3rd, I had my last strength training session. Already during that session, but especially the day after, I felt this strong sensation of tenseness and stiffness in deep muscle tissue around the thoracic spine. From Monday, May 4th onwards, that pain persisted. Within that week, it progressed quite quickly with other sensations that hindered me from being physically active. I started to feel pain and pressure around my ribcage, at the lower level of my ribcage, where the abdominals meet the ribcage. And I was starting to feel drained of energy, gradually more and more lacking energy. But I was still able to eat normally, so I kept eating. I wasn’t training anymore for the rest of that week, basically. I was less and less physically active. Then the next week came. On May 11th, I started fasting. There was also a plan here for me to be extra vigilant going into this new treatment. So it wasn’t only that I wasn’t able to train a lot during the week prior. Part of it was also planned for. But still, I was starting to feel very weak the week before. Then I had my last meal at lunch or breakfast on Monday, May 11th. I started fasting. I did not do an HBOT on Tuesday because I thought it would be too aggressive for this new treatment. Then on Wednesday, May 13th, I had this Enhertu infusion. And the Enhertu infusion took two hours. Then I went back home and started to feel the effects of the Enhertu treatment, which was low to medium-level nausea throughout the day, and no real appetite. But from day three onwards, I started to do minor refeeding anyway. I reckoned it wouldn’t impact either side, whether the treatment would be taken up or not. Also, by this point, I was feeling weak. So I actually gave myself the option to potentially fast up to five days, but I wasn’t feeling up to it because of the weakness I’d started to feel already the week prior. When I started fasting on Monday, May 11th, my body weight was clocked in in the morning at 89.5 kilograms. I looked in the logs. For two weeks prior, I’d been consistently walking around 90 kilograms. So that is kind of my goal weight for having recovered and gotten back to training. I was even up to 92 kilos at one point during that recovery cycle, I think. But what happened now was that I started to drop in weight because I wasn’t able to refeed myself fully. This persisted. A week into the Enhertu treatment, I still wasn’t able to refeed sufficiently enough. So I was gradually losing weight, losing even more energy here. Hospitalization If we move already up to two weeks after the Enhertu infusion, we’re at the low point where I was feeling so bad that there was nothing else but to have someone put me in the hospital. And I tried to escalate this already earlier. We’d known about liver involvement already from the latest follow-up scan in beginning to mid-April. Even before that, in March, we knew about the increase in LD and AST, ALAT markers. But no one had really done any proper follow-up. I was given a date for biopsy which was like a month in advance, so the lead times to do anything were just ridiculous. But then now that I’d come to this f*****g end point, where I was feeling like there was no life force in me anymore, completely devoid of life force, I was just— This had been going on for almost two weeks already, that I had literally just been sitting down, hunched over in a fetal position all day, deep breathing to just get through the day. And then throughout the night, just fighting to get some increment of sleep through collapsing. Throughout this last month, I’ve only been able to sleep on the back because of the pressure from the ribcage. So sleep has been collapsing on my back, and then soon thereafter waking up from overheating, drenched in sweat, and trying to somehow reboot my system to be able to do it all over again for four or five rounds, if I’m lucky, accumulating like four to five hours of sleep effectively. We’re now at the 2

    45 min
  5. Sick & Tired Of The Leviathan’s Grip

    Apr 30

    Sick & Tired Of The Leviathan’s Grip

    Cycle 12 Day 26. Thursday, April 30th. 13:30 in the afternoon. Fam, I’m properly fuming right now. A System That Doesn’t Bend Yet again, the healthcare system has shown its indescribable rigidity and utter lack of logical procedure and common sense. As you might know by now, I’ve delayed my treatment currently. You might hear it already by the fact that it’s Cycle 12 Day 26. Normally, my cycle length should be 21 days. And this is due to me having agreed with the hospital system that after the third re-treatment, I am to have a follow-up PET-CT scan. And when that PET-CT scan was to be scheduled, there was no available time slot within the time frame to allow me to maintain such a 21-day cycle length. However, I was very clear that I did not want to proceed with the fourth treatment before getting the PET-CT scan and getting the results of that. Because I want to reassess our treatment strategy going forward after having gotten back the outcome of that scan. The Missed Detail That Cost Time What then happened was that two to three weeks ago, when I had gotten my PET-CT scan scheduling, I asked them to book my next treatment right after that. And they came back to me shortly thereafter and said that the week after the PET-CT scan was fully booked. So there were no time slots for me to get. However, they missed a very crucial detail. There is a queue for anyone who doesn’t have a booked time slot. What they instead did two to three weeks ago was they booked me for a time slot the week after the one I wanted a slot for. Which means I’m locked in to have my treatment delayed more than a week further than might have been the case. Because if I had not had that time slot booked further ahead, I would have been very early in the queue. And there will always be slots that are rebooked and rescheduled. And then I would be at the top of the queue and I would be getting a time slot next week. But because they, without informing me of the consequences, decided to book a treatment time two weeks from now, that was locked in. And I had no visibility, no information about the fact that that lock-in made it impossible for me to get a treatment next week. The Cost of Centralized Systems So once again, the hospital system surprises me with its incompetence and its lack of transparency. And it’s just part and parcel of such a centralized system. Where through paternalism and standard procedure, autonomy and agency is not given to the individuals within that system. Including the patients.Including the caretakers. And this just properly sucks. I’m in a very critical situation. So I should be able to have at least some transparency into how these processes work. But it seems incompetence has overshadowed even bringing that to the table. And this is not the first time this happens. And I’m f*****g sick of it. Forced to Play the Game The problem is, this system is as it is. And no matter how much I push my agenda in terms of asking for increased transparency, it will not come overnight. It’s a s****y system. And I need to play by the system’s rules. And I hate that. But yeah, it is what it is. My next treatment will then be, as it was locked in without my knowledge, on Wednesday, the 13th of May. So I’ll just have to make do and bide my time until then. Additional notes: It should have been clear already when agreeing to initiate retreatment with systemic therapy 3 months ago that the PET/CT scan should be scheduled after my third retreatment round. Despite this, my fourth retreatment start date was initially scheduled to be the day before my scheduled PET/CT(!!)- which makes absolute zero sense and wouldn't even be at all feasible… This mistake further delayed the treatment scheduling process… I’ve now at least fired my contact nurse from ever contacting me again. Let’s hope the next one has at least a bone of ambition and cognitive ability in her body… Closing Yeah, end of rant. But yeah—if you can stay away from these rigid systems, please do, to the largest extent possible. Because they’re definitely not being mindful of your life force, fam… Namaste. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit victorsalander.substack.com

    6 min
  6. Two Exams

    Apr 29

    Two Exams

    Cycle 12 Day 25. Wednesday, April 29th, 09:09 in the morning. So, waking up to today, I realize that these coming two days are days of examinations. The First Exam: Applied Tree Care Tomorrow I have an examination in applied tree care. The second part of that course that I’ve been having over the last four to five weeks. And I will be examined on my knowledge of subjects including: * different solutions for planting trees and shrubs * assessing the soil and improving the soil around trees * supporting both young and old trees with tree supports or tree crown stabilizations * different tree pruning techniques * nature preservation * protection of trees when undergoing construction work * tree inventory * tree risk assessment * tree plans * tree care plans Etc. So that is for tomorrow. And I haven’t had too much energy and time to study, but I accelerated my studies yesterday and I will keep preparing for the exam today. The Second Exam: PET-CT Scan However, that’s for Thursday. For Wednesday, we have the big exam. And the big exam is namely the PET-CT scan. The examination of my whole body by first having me fasted so that my blood glucose levels are lowered a bit, and then injecting me intravenously with radioactive glucose. So that’s the 18-FDG fluorodeoxyglucose. And what happens is that when glucose is taken up by any tissue in my body, also radioactive glucose will be taken up. And the PET-CT scan will detect the radioactivity that is emitted from those parts of my body where the radioactive glucose has been taken up. According to the Warburg effect, most tumor cells are very prone to glucose metabolism. This means that, apart from a few other organs in the body such as the thyroid, the bladder, the heart, maybe some others, any tissue that shows a high differential uptake of this radioactive glucose might be a suspected tumor tissue. And I’ve done quite a number of these scans already. The first one was in July 2024, and then three months later, and then another three months later, and then another three months later, and then another three months later… So that’s like one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Yeah, this is my eighth PET-CT scan. And then apart from PET, you have the CT, which is computer tomography, where you’re also able to decipher somewhat the density of the tissue. So you can see morphological changes to tissues through the CT scan as a layering. So there are two layers to the scan: * one is tissue density * the other one is uptake of radioactive glucose Strategy at Stake And this exam is of course much more important than the one on Thursday. And we’ll see. It’s basically examining my performance, you could say, in terms of everything that my body is being exposed to: * my own protocols * the treatment * everything combined So let’s hope I’ve done enough to tempt fate here, and that I can move the needle in the right direction. If it turns out that the needle hasn’t really moved much, or that it’s moved in the wrong direction, I will really need to quickly reassess my strategy here. Possible Adjustments That might entail adjusting the chemo protocol in one or multiple ways. One potential option, which I don’t think I would go down, is to intensify treatment frequency. Another one is to increase dosage. But if anything, in terms of changing the chemo protocol, I would probably first look at changing the chemo substances or the chemo cocktail. From FOLFOX to FOLFIRI The second-line recommendation would be to switch from what I currently have, which is FOLFOX: * Oxaliplatin (neurotoxic, affecting DNA repair mechanisms) * 5-FU (a broken DNA/RNA base analog) And switch that to FOLFIRI. FOLFIRI still involves the two-day infusion of 5-FU, but replaces oxaliplatin with irinotecan. Concerns About Switching And my concern there, apart from the general concern that I have a proven track record with FOLFOX—so why change horses mid-race— well, maybe if my horse is losing, I would have to… But the other concern is that irinotecan seems to have a higher toxicity to the gut lining. And I really need my gut lining to stay strong and resilient enough to recover between each treatment round. Because I’m fasting so aggressively, and then upon initiating my recovery arc, I need to refeed very aggressively. So if my gut lining would be even more sensitive, it might impact my ability to refeed successfully. And that could impact my overall recovery heavily. And in the worst case, that could lead to a downward spiral where I’m not able to recover well enough to get iterative rounds of treatment over and over again. Immunotherapy: A Double-Edged Sword Another avenue to explore would be the immunotherapy realm. Currently, I have been avoiding retreating myself with PD-1 inhibitor antibodies, such as: * Nivolumab * Pembrolizumab These antibodies, if successful, would attach to tumor cells and dysfunctional immune cells and instruct my own immune system to eliminate malignant tissue more effectively. But if unsuccessful, they could trigger autoimmune adverse effects. And I am very much convinced that this is what happened to me over a year ago, when my adverse effects in terms of: * autoimmune dysregulation * autonomic nervous system dysregulation held very strongly for over eight months. And it impacted my quality of life even more heavily than going through aggressive systemic therapy. So introducing this antibody again—I’m quite split on it. But if push comes to shove, I might have to. Because there is a track record of me succeeding in systemic therapy when these antibodies were part of the protocol. Whereas this time around, they haven’t been included. Adjusting My Lifestyle: Tree Work Another thing I’ve been very actively doing is that I’ve abstained from operational tree care work. Unfortunately. During the winter, I had my first internship. And the way you do tree care work is that it’s medium to high intensity physical exertion throughout the whole day. And then you come home, rest a bit, sleep, wake up early, and repeat that for five days straight. And then you have a weekend. And it seems that that doesn’t necessarily help my body recover. What I need is: * days of full recovery * short bursts of intense resistance training * ...followed by day(s) of full recovery That seems to be the most efficient way for me to rebuild and repair my systems. So for now, I am not an operational tree care worker. Instead, I’m focusing more on: * inspections * inventory work Which I don’t mind. But it would be nice to climb trees again, to be up in the canopy. A Difficult Balance This adjustment is also influenced by the fact that my winter internship coincided with a worsening PET scan result. It’s just one data point, but I don’t want to take that risk again. And intuitively, it feels like too much stress for my body right now. Especially since back then I wasn’t even doing systemic therapy. Now I am. So this challenge—combining treatment with education—will intensify. Especially going into the summer, where I’m expected to do a nine-week internship. If I’m continuously undergoing treatment, I won’t be able to do full weeks consistently. So I need to solve a puzzle: * syncing with different people * finding single days to join as internship days * adapting to my energy levels Final Preparation Most importantly now, I will use these last two hours before the scan to wind down. There will also be time to rest at the hospital, because after receiving the radioactive glucose: * I need to rest * I receive a beta blocker to reduce brown fat uptake So I’ll start winding down now to improve scan accuracy. And then we’ll take it from there. There’s no use getting ahead of ourselves. Once the results come back—hopefully within a few days—I’ll reassess everything. And we’ll just keep calm and carry on. Closing And oh yeah—tomorrow I might be celebrating finalizing these two exams by going to Tak on the rooftop of Gallerian by Brunkebergstorg in Stockholm. So if any one of you wants to dance in celebration of the sun arriving in Stockholm, do join me there. Write me a message. I’ll be there with others who want to celebrate. And if you don’t want to celebrate, or don’t have the time, you can still write me. We can talk. Be mindful of your life force, fam. Namaste. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit victorsalander.substack.com

    18 min

About

Life form. Human being. Self-expressionist. Victor Salander. victorsalander.substack.com