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