Margaret Gray
is determined to defeat her brain tumour
a welcoming message to this web site. by Dennis Argall, husband

My wife Margaret was diagnosed on 28 April 2000 with the most aggressive kind of brain tumour, a glioblastoma grade 4. An operation to remove as much as possible of the tumour was carried out at Canberra Hospital on 3 May by neurosurgeon Nadana Chandran and his team, Margaret recovered strongly from the operation and came home on 13 May. And on 27 May we are off to Sydney for a 'full hand' of treatment.

Reporting this so blandly now skates over, of course, a whirlwind of activity and emotions.

For us as a family - Dennis Argall, husband, and Nick [25], Liz, [20] and Cat [17], and Nick's wife Sheoni and their children Sean and Brianna - the four days from diagnosis to operation were extraordinary, and made very positive by Margaret's strong and determined attitude. We had some very happy times, some very important times, while doing a lot of practical things before an operation which itself carried risks of non survival [5%] or loss of speech or alteration of personality. Margaret saw and spoke to a great number of old friends whose assurances of support and affection were wonderful for her self confidence. And we had some wonderful quiet times together.

Over some weeks before this crisis, Margaret had had some old symptoms, associated with a virus that went around the family in March - sinus ache and weariness were the main things, with some fogginess of thought - symptoms of a thousand things. A couple of weeks before Easter, our doctor, who had not seen Margaret for a year, gave her two weeks of amoxycillin to clear out any infection, but said also "I want to see you back after Easter to check out that [slightly enlarged] thyroid."

We went away for a few days to our rural retreat near the coast, but Margaret grew more tired and the sinus pain did not resolve and settled behind the left eye; her mental alertness and memory became a bit worse, but it's always hard to measure these things day by day between couples - you're close, you say to yourself 'That's dumb' but then you ask 'Am I being too critical?'

When we came back to Canberra, on the Thursday before Easter, I put Margaret to bed and said "I'll just check the internet for information on headaches" and thought, as I walked up the corridor 'I lied'. I opened the web browser and typed 'brain tumor'. I was electrified by some of the symptoms which were immediately in front of me, though a myriad of other causes were still possible [click here].

We then faced a wait. Easter holidays Friday and Monday, then the Anzac Day holiday Tuesday 25 April, meaning that many people, including our own doctor, were out of town for the week. And meant, also, as we were to understand later, that the hospital operating theatre lists would be backlogged and the neurosurgery ward would be stretched beyond capacity by young people enjoying the holidays with a taste for speed and a disdain for seat belts.

There were no children at home and so Margaret and I cocooned ourselves and had quite a nice time watching videos - 'Meet Joe Black', Patch Adams','As Good As It Gets' and 'Mina Tannenbaum' come to mind. The pain was strong, Margaret was sleeping 15 hours a day at least, and confused about too many things. On Tuesday night I was worried enough to take her to Accidents and Emergencies at the hospital, but apart from having difficulty with the date and her birth date (in talking to the nurse - subsequently the young doctor ignored the nurse's notes and asked the same questions and of course Margaret smiled, as she likes to smile at young doctors, and got the answers right, and as she had 'no neurological signs' he sent her away with Panadeine Forte and advice to use a decongestant and see a doctor later if the problem did not go away. I spoke to our own medical practice next morning, Wednesday, and we got to see a visiting doctor, Dr Trevor Law, in the practice Thursday morning, who took seriously my advice that this was normally an energetic person who never saw doctors, and sent Margaret for an MRI scan. As we emerged from the scan, where, of course, Margaret had had a nice lie down for an hour, Margaret said: "This is a waste of money. I'm getting better."

But at 4pm, when I picked up the scans and reports, and opened them immediately in the carpark I then had to drive home safely and tell Margaret. I read the radiologist's report to her, and then we looked at the scans, which revealed a startling sight [see Medical page] in her right frontal lobe. We searched the internet for information, spoke to family and arranged for the children to come home - all in Melbourne at the time.

On Friday we saw Dr Law and then went to an appointment he had arranged the previous night with Dr Nadana Chandran, neurosurgeon, who booked Margaret in for the operation at the earliest possible time Wednesday 3 May.

Before the operation, Margaret took herself into a deep meditative state for twenty minutes in the operating theatre waiting room. When I aroused her and introduced her to the anaesthesiologist, I said to him: "We have just had the best four days of our lives. We know that every day we have now is precious. Please look after her."

And so here we are, three weeks later, at home, waiting for radiotherapy. (I wrote this on 23 May, see news update of 25 May for other steps.) But while the craniotomy and the radiotherapy are critical medical interventions for such a tumour, there is every evidence that survival as well as quality of life in this as well as other illness depends heavily on attitude and on holistic approaches.

At a practical level [see also Medical page] we are dealing with a tumour that grows rapidly and is hard to destroy entirely. It does not alter nerve cells but grows from the the glial, supporting cell areas of the brain. It destroys by pressure. Hence the importance of aggressive, conventional, modern medical interventions. But also the importance of equipping the whole body with a strong mind and a healthy immune system, the better to defend itself against the tumour.

We have also figured out that there is really no need to worry over a choice between, say, quality of life now and maximising the long term. If we live to get the most from each day, to eat well and be happy, the future will be what we make of it and will be better.

stay with us, we need support, it's been wonderfully helpful so far...

Dennis Argall

p.s. this page replaces the original home page, now stored here.