Dispatches From The Medical Front Line, Vol 2

Yesterday - Wednesday - Catherine and I took a cab to Bart's Hospital to meet the consultant, Mr Dilkes. I had expected to be told that we were going to go straight to radiotherapy, but no such luck, I'm afraid.

First, the good news. The cancer is contained in a compact area around the tonsil and neck, and remains eminently treatable. That's about the end of the good news.

It seems that Monday's op was a mere appetiser for what is to come next: a main course involving a 12-hour operation when my lip, chin and neck will be opened up, to allow Mr D to remove all traces of the tumour. This will be preceded by a quick visit to Whipps Cross to fit a "RIG" (Radiological Inserted Gastrostomy), through which I will be fed after the op. I'll also have a tracheostomy, and may have to have some post-op care with the speech therapist, to teach me how to swallow again. I'll be in hospital for two weeks, and the radiotherapy (possibly combined with some chemo) is likely to follow that.

Mr Dilkes is an affable chap, who assured me that over 80% of operations like this result in a complete cure, and that in six months time it will all seem like a bad dream. Actually, it already seems like that.

I've been assigned a new MacMillan nurse: Marianne, who's known to family and friends (and therefore patients) as Manny. She spent some time with us, and was lovely. On balance, I would rather have not met her in these circumstances, but I'm glad that she's around.

The journey back home showed the different ways that Catherine and I deal with this stuff. She was resolutely cheerful and chatty, me morose and silent. I must try to not be too self-absorbed about the illness. Whilst it's playing itself out in my neck and mouth, it affects us all.

Owing to a short span of attention, I rarely stay down for too long, and this morning I'm feeling a little more philosophical about things. I should see this as all part of life's rich tapestry: the basis for amusing dinner party anecdotes in the future - asuming that I'm not being fed through a tube for the rest of my life!

In the meantime, Mr Dilkes tells me that I can live a normal life. I'm therefore intending to go back to work next week (wife permitting), and resume running, tennis, etc. We're going down to Bognor this weekend to see my dad and brothers, and if my mouth isn't too sore, I may even sample a small glass of wine. Social events will continue as planned for the next 3-4 weeks.

I'm also intending to go ahead with the 5K-Your-Way run at Victoria Park on 9 June. I haven't done anything about sponsorship, and I'm not going to do so. However, if you're feeling charitable, can I suggest that you donate to Macmillan at www.macmillan.org.uk.

Today's 10 feelgood songs are:

1. What A Wonderful World - Louis Armstrong
2. Mr E's Beautiful Blues - Eels
3. You Make Me Feel So Young - Frank Sinatra
4. Tubthumping - Chumbawumba
5. Havin' A Party - Southside Johnny & The Asbury Jukes
6. Sunshine on My Shoulders - John Denver
7. I Can See Clearly Now - Johnny Nash
8. Peaceful Easy Feeling - The Eagles
9. Reasons To Be Cheerful - Ian Dury & The Blockheads
10. Shout Bamalama - Eddie Hinton

Waving not drowning.

RP

Not Quite What I Planned

Summer 2010. Conflicting priorities of wanting to see as much of the World Cup as possible, while coping with a busy workload at a very important time. Oh, and overcoming cancer.

A recent survey has suggested that 1 in 7 males will "take a sickie" during the world cup, and so I suppose I'm included in that statistic. I'm also included in the one that says 1 in 3 of us gets cancer - except it's always supposed to happen to someone else.

Anyway, the story to date. I noticed a lump on my neck when I was in Paris with my dad and brother in mid April. Off to my GP when I got back: he originally thought it was tonsilitis and put me on antibiotics, which had no effect. He then referred me to the consultant at Whipps Cross Hospital, who sent me for various checks, and confirmed last Thursday - 20th May - that they had found some cancer cells in the nymph lode in my neck. I had an operation on my throat yesterday (24th May), and will be attending Barts Hospital in London tomorrow to plan the next phase of treatment, which is likely to be 6 weeks of radiotherapy.

So how do I feel about all this, Obviously not great, but OK. All the signs are that it is treatable, and whilst the next few weeks aren't going to be great fun, I'm confident that we'll get through it. The medical staff at Whipps Cross have all been brilliant: efficient, informative and considerate. Well, maybe apart from the guy who prematurely told me that the sample he took from the Fine Needle Aspiration looked healthy, but I'm in a forgiving mood.

A special mention goes to Ruth, the MacMillan nurse assigned to me. I've only met her twice, but already know that I'm in safe hands. She exudes competence and compassion. She speaks in a scouse accent, and I haven't established her football loyalties yet, but I'm assuming that she's an Evertonian.

My wife Catherine (Cheeks to those of us who know her best) is remarkable and extraordinary - in all the right ways. She has a practical and cheerful approach, based on expect-the-worst-and-you-won't-be-disappointed, and she's providing succour and Lucozade. Our girls, Emma and Lucy, are also giving the smiling support that's needed.

It's not always easy to talk about this stuff with friends and relatives, but those who have been told have all been suitably concerned and sympathetic. In some cases, they seem more worried than I am. Thanks to all of you who have sent your best wishes, but don't worry unduly: I'm planning to be fighting fit again very soon.

So why the blog? Well, I don't want to become a conversational cancer-bore, and to avoid having to repeat the same information multiple times, I figured that I could put my thoughts out on cyber-space, and you can follow my progress if you feel like it. I don't know how these things work, but maybe you can post your responses, and we can set up some kind of discussion without ever having to meet face-to-face. it's how friendships work these days, I understand.

Three rules that I would like to be observed:

• first and foremost: no negativity: I'm not feeling down, although I probably will from time to time. The blog needs to be a haven of optimism;
• keep it clean: the blog and any responses will - I hope - be seen and read by people of all ages and sensitivities, so quotes from Derek and Clive probably aren't appropriate; and
• strictly no religion.
  

I'll post a new blog when there's progress to report, or when I feel it. It may not be all about my illness: among other things on my mind at the moment are whether Everton can fend off the predators circling Mikel Arteta and Steven Pienaar, and the excellence of the new album by Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings ("I Learned The Hard Way"). If you haven't got it yet, go staright to Amazon, and snap it up for £8.95.

And as we're all feeling positive, here are ten songs to make you feel good:

1. Here Come The Good Times - A House
2. Five Years Time - Noah And The Whale
3. Enjoy Yourself - The Specials
4. If I Had A Million Dollars - Barenaked Ladies
5. Here Comes The Summer - The Undertones
6. You Can Make Me Dance, Sing Or Anything - The Faces
7. One Day Like This - Elbow
8. That's The Way I Like It - KC & The Sunshine Band
9. I Got You (I Feel Good) - James Brown
10. Three Little Birds - Bob Marley & The Wailers
    

That's all for now.RP