WHEN pop singer Darius Danesh discovered his father had terminal cancer, he prepared for the worst. But incredibly, 17 months later Booth Danesh, 63, a surgeon who lives in Glasgow with his GP wife Avril, 48, and their younger sons Aria, 20, and Cyrus, ten, is in full remission. Here Darius, 24, who rose to fame in the TV series Pop Idol, tells TESSA CUNNINGHAM the story of his father’s recovery
SITTING beside my father at home in Glasgow on Father’s Day in June I got out my guitar and to the tune of Happy Birthday I sang a song especially for him.
It may sound hopelessly soppy but, although I’ve always adored my father, I never knew just how much he mattered to me until I was faced with losing him.
The past 17 months have been the most devastating time not just for Dad, but for the entire family. When my father was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma in February last year we were told he had three months to live.
Just 12 months ago he was so frail, his heart actually stopped beating – yet he is now in remission and getting fitter every day.
The tumour which was once the size of a large orange, has completely disappeared.
His eyes sparkle and his skin, which was once paper-thin, is now fresh.
Just recently he’s had the strength to go swimming again – an amazing milestone.
Not surprisingly Dad – a leading surgeon specialising in the digestive system – is utterly convinced that the powerful combination of chemotherapy and radiotherapy gave him a fighting chance against the cancer.
BUT given that Dad’s a leading surgeon, it may surprise people to learn that he believes it was complementary therapies such as meditation, acupuncture and reiki that helped him win the final battle. Without them, he doubts he would still be alive.
He believes these treatments gave him the psychological strength he needed to carry on fighting the cancer when complications left him so weak he almost lost the will to go on.
Dad first started feeling ill in late 2002. As a gastroenterologist at Glasgow’s Stobhill Hospital, he was under huge pressure and working incredibly long hours. Ironically, like many doctors, he put his own health way down his list of priorities. It almost cost him his life.
He felt permanently exhausted. Then he began having flu-like symptoms – cold sweats and shivers. At first he thought he had a virus. After a few months he began getting pain in his hip. He put it down to arthritis.
My mother, who’s a GP, urged him to get a second opinion. But doctors always think they can cure themselves.
Although my father was dealing with sick people virtually every day, he believed it would never happen to him.
Finally, after suffering for about nine months, he went for a check-up. By that stage the cancer in his lymph glands was well advanced. But even so it was missed. He didn’t even have a scan. Instead, Dad was told he had arthritis and was offered physiotherapy.
But things still weren’t right and he was feeling so exhausted as a result of the undiagnosed cancer that he decided to take early retirement.
Then in February 2004, Dad was at home alone when he collapsed. When he came to, he rang Mum at work. As soon as she got home she realised something was terribly wrong and drove him straight to hospital. A body scan revealed the devastating news.
Dad had lymphatic cancer.
It was 18 months since he’d first started feeling unwell, and the cancer had gone undetected for so long it had spread from the lymph glands – the drainage system for the body – to his spine and bone marrow. He had a tumour in his pelvis the size of a large orange.
At the time this was happening, I had just celebrated seeing my album, Dive In, go platinum and was back in Scotland at the end of a world tour. I walked into the kitchen that evening and when I saw Mum and Dad huddled at the table, I knew instantly something was terribly wrong.
Dad told me and my brother Aria outright. He had cancer and it was terminal.
Although he broke the news more gently to my younger brother Cyrus – who was just nine – Dad realised there was no point in pretending. We’re not that sort of family.
But, however gloomy the prognosis, right from the start Dad was determined to stay positive. He said: ‘I’d rather die fighting than give up now.’ He’s been through so much in his life. The son of a Persian diplomat, he was brought up in a palace in Iran.
But, in the Iranian revolution, his family lost everything. He came to Britain in the Sixties to study medicine and after he qualified, he met Mum in Glasgow. They’ve been married for 26 years.
We’re a close-knit family and we were all determined to help him. Our way of rescuing Dad was to show him every ounce of love and support. He needed all his energy to deal with the cancer.
Ironically, in the months that followed, he was more of a support to us than we ever were to him. Aria, who was at medical school, decided to put his studies on hold. There was no way he could concentrate properly. I was due to record an album, but I pulled out. Luckily my management company understood completely.
Within a week of his diagnosis, Dad started his treatment at London’s Royal Marsden Hospital, one of the world’s leading cancer hospitals. He was pleased to discover that one of the top oncologists was a former student of his from 15 years ago.
But even they couldn’t offer more than a glimmer of hope.
Dad never slept a night alone. Mum, Aria or I were always with him. Cyrus – who was still at school – lived with friends in Glasgow, flying down at weekends.
The cancer was too advanced to operate on. Instead, Dad was started immediately on a powerful course of chemotherapy.
The drugs – meant to kill off cancer cells – ravaged his body. He had been 15st, but within three months he was down to 11st and too weak to leave his bed. My dad has always been a powerhouse. Now he was frail and his skin was paper-thin. He lost all his hair.
DAD had been told he had three months to live.
Doctors didn’t dare hope the chemo would destroy the cancer, but they hoped it might buy him extra time. When he passed that milestone in May last year, we were all stunned – and ecstatic.
The tumour had shrunk to the size of a walnut.
Dad had huge doses of chemotherapy and radiotherapy, staggered over six months – from February to August 2004. At one stage he was so weak, he clinically died.
It was July 2004 and his body was so ravaged by the drugs his heart stopped beating for a minute. I was holding his hand when it happened. Then, there was the faintest flicker. He was back.
For my birthday last August, Mum, Aria, Cyrus and I all gathered around Dad’s bed with a little cake. He looked so proud. ‘Every morning I wake up and the first thoughts are of my children, not of my life,’ he said. ‘I’ve lived my life. I’m not living for me any more.
I’m living for you.’ As a surgeon himself, Dad put his complete faith in the doctors. He has always believed that conventional medicine provides scientific answers.
But that didn’t stop him being openminded. He was convinced the more he knew about cancer and its treatment, the better chance he had – mentally and physically.
In the first few months, he was far too weak to read books on alternative therapies or research the internet himself so we did it for him. Mum, Aria and I read every scrap of literature on medical science and complementary therapies. My mother practises homeopathy and my aunt is a reiki master so we knew a little already.
I was hugely impressed by the story of one woman who was diagnosed months there. At Christmas the doctors said officially that his cancer was in remission. Last month, a scan confirmed he was free of cancer. Now Dad is writing a book about his experience. He has spent the past five months travelling around America – talking to experts in both conventional and complementary medicines.
with inoperable stomach cancer.
She believes she survived through the power of meditation.
It’s very simple. She believed that the cells in our body become flooded with toxins when we’re under stress or have a bad argument and replicate abnormally and this can trigger the start of illnesses, including cancer.
Although many experts would dispute this because there is not enough proof, it made sense to me.
Meditation – and many other complementary medicines – may work by reducing this stress and encourage the growth of healthy, non- cancerous cells. An American study funded by the U.S.
government, and published in the American Journal of Cardiology, found that of 202 elderly people, those who had practised transcendental meditation had 49 per cent fewer deaths from cancer.
In July, with the full support of his doctors, Dad started a series of complementary therapies. My aunt came in regularly to give him reiki sessions. It’s a hands-on healing technique developed in Japan in the 1900s.
Reiki practitioners believe they can channel the patient’s natural energy to destroy energy blockages and get the whole body working in harmony.
He also had acupuncture, where needles are used to stimulate and heal different parts of the body.
Studies of patients given acupuncture for cancer pain have shown that half of the patients reported a relief in symptoms within a week. More research showed it helps alleviate the nausea caused by chemotherapy.
Dad also tried aromatherapy – a holistic treatment to relieve pain and stress – meditated and practised techniques which help you think positively.
By October, he was well enough to leave hospital after nine He always believed passionately in the power of science. But while the drugs definitely killed the cancer, he feels that without complementary medicine he wouldn’t be here.
He has seen cancer patients lose the will to live and says there were times he also felt so weak that he almost gave up the mental battle to carry on a physical fight. But the complementary therapies gave him an inner strength.
He also found acupuncture helped relieve terrible pains in his legs and bones.
Lymphatic cancer is one of the fastest growing in the UK. It’s increasing by 7 per cent every year and is the most common cancer among the under-30s.
Around 1,400 new cases are diagnosed every year. Yet while women know about examining their breasts and men are now encouraged to check for signs of testicular cancer, few people have even heard of lymphatic cancer – let alone know what to look for.
Telltale signs are swelling in the armpit, neck or groin, night sweats and exhaustion.
Since Dad was diagnosed, I’ve become involved with the Lymphoma Association.
I believe in raising awareness not just of the cancer – but of the help that’s available. It’s not just about dealing with the cancer physically, you’ve got to deal with it mentally, too.
That’s why charities such as the Lymphoma Association, which provide buddy schemes for sufferers are so vital.
I almost lost my Dad. If I can stop just one other son going through the same pain, it will be worth it.
NON-HODGKIN’S LYMPHOMA – THE FACTS
LYMPHOMA affects the cells of the lymphatic system, known as white blood cells or lymphocytes.
These infection-fighting cells aremade and stored in the lymph nodes and carried through the body by narrow tubes similar to blood vessels, known as lymph vessels.
There are two types of cancer – Hodgkin’s and Non-Hodgkin’s – both named after Dr Thomas Hodgkin who first identified the disease in 1832.
Hodgkin’s lymphoma more often occurs between the ages of 15 and 35 and affects more men than women. It can be successfully treated and most patients will be completely cured.
Non-Hodgkin’s is now the seventh most common cancer in the UK, with more than 8,000 cases being diagnosed each year. It is more common in people over 50 and affects more men than women.
In Non-Hodgkin’s, the lymphocytes start to behave like cancerous cells and grow and multiply uncontrollably. They can collect in the lymph nodes – for example, in the neck or groin – which then become swollen.
But, because lymphocytes circulate throughout the body, collections of abnormal lymphocytes often form outside the nodes too, spreading to the liver and other organs and tissue.
There are more than 20 different types of Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, varying in degrees of severity. Treatment includes chemotherapy, radiotherapy, bone marrow and stem cell transplants.
Symptoms include painless swelling of a node in the armpit, neck or groin; extreme fatigue; night sweats; loss of appetite and unexpected weight loss.
THE Lymphoma Association offers emotional support and information to patients and their families and friends. Contact 0808808 5555 or www.lymphoma.org.uk
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