Day 41 - 28th September, 2024

Autumn is now upon us and the weather gods have wreaked their vengeance on me a number of times during my walks.

The total mileage I have now covered to date on my Charity walk is 25 milesand a further milestone is looming. In a few weeks time I shall reach my 81stbirthday which at one point in my life I considered unthinkable.

 

I make no apology for reiterating that this would not have been possible without the dedication and skill of the wonderful staff at Queen’s Hospital, Romford.These people gave me much more than added time to my life. They have givenme the opportunity to appreciate many things in my life that otherwise I would have perhaps taken for granted.

 

I have watched my wonderful son and his lovely wife commence a new phase in their lives since his retirement. The idyll that is Knaresborough in North Yorkshire is the base from which he can enjoy and explore the outdoors of the Yorkshire moors, the Lake District and further afield. which they love to do. He is still working for the people in the area that he lives as a member of the parish council and as the engine room of my fund raising campaign.

I have been able to watch the progress in life of my three grandchildren as theyhave progressed in their education from school to university and, for two of them, into their careers part of which have taken them abroad to live and work.The youngest is also currently studying at university and will soon be emerging into the wider world of employment. So far they have all been blessed with happy and successful lives but life being what it is it is inevitable that somedaysome rain will fall. If and when that happens they will know they still have granddad to help and support them should they need it.

 

This extra time has enabled me to do some things that have lurked in the back of my mind possibly for many years but for which I have never made time for.Bungee jumping and parachuting out of airplanes are not included. I amdefinitely not going to risk my life which is now so precious. The things I am referring to are much simpler but just as satisfying. I always felt that I should and could write a book and, along with two short stories, I have now achieved this. It was a labour of love each evening in my conservatory punching the keyboard with one finger and seeing the story unfold. I was offered the opportunity by two publishers to publish but resisted on economic grounds that the money could be better spent rather than massaging my ego. I achieved what I wanted and am satisfied with that.

I’ve tried painting but being colour blind is a bit of a drawback and, in truth, I really did not enjoy the experience very much anyway. Drawing is something I really do enjoy and I try and find time to continue with several sketches I have already started but have not had time to complete. Very little of my days are wasted which is the way I want it to be.

I am a simple man in terms of what I want from life. I have a small house which is exactly the way Pat and I want it to be and have never yearned for something bigger or better. I have a small garden, which now I have redesigned it, allows me the pleasure of working in it and also the pleasure of sitting in it and admiring the flowers that I have grown.I have a small wife, every inch of her is pure gold, who I love dearly and to whom I have been married to, she tells me sighing heavily, for 41 years.

 

Materially I want nor need anything. I have everything in my life that matters. The only thing on my bucket list is to do something to help Queen’s Hospital which in turn will benefit those people currently suffering from Cancer and other diseases and those that will inevitably follow. This is why I have embarked on this fund raising scheme.

I can make a difference, you can make a difference, we together can make a difference. Let’s do it.

 

My birthday celebration will consist of a glass or two of German wine so if you wish to make my 81st birthday a really happy one please make a donation to my fund. It doesn’t matter how small nor how large, every donation helps.

             

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

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Terry’s Cancer Journey - Episode 4 – Changing Times

Having decided that I would have both cancers removed in a joint operation, my next appointment would be with Professor Tahir to discuss the chemotherapy I would have to undergo prior to the operation. After that I would have one final procedure to give additional information to the surgeons, an ultrasound endoscopy.

 

The appointment with Prof. Tahir took place on the 10^th April and was basically a question and answer session.

           

Two procedures and four appointments in the two weeks that Pat was away is good going by any standards. I hate to think, that had the periods between these been much longer, what difference it may have made to my chances of survival. Delay is too often the difference between life or death.

 

It was late the evening of the appointment with Prof. Tahir that Pat arrived home from her holiday. It was immediately apparent to her that I was not at my best. The bags under my eyes and drawn features told their own story but it was too late that night to tell her the truth of what had happened during the last fortnight. I decided to let her have a good night’s sleep first. Unsurprisingly a good night’s sleep completed eluded me. How was I going to tell Pat in the morning? What could I say to ease the pain of what I had to tell her?

         

Morning came and it was crunch time. I could tell by Pat’s appearance that the holiday had been beneficial and that on some level, she had enjoyed her two weeks away. Unfortunately, there were other things to discuss first. There was no way to dress up the facts so I simply said “there is more bad news I’m afraid, I have cancer of the bowel as well”. There was no emotion but I could see from the look in her eyes the same shock and disbelief that I had already experienced. The same thought was going through her mind, just as it had mine, that there was no chance of surviving two cancers. The silence was so thick you could cut it. In a way it was lucky that the ultrasound endoscopy was scheduled for later that morning and it gave us both the chance to collect our thoughts. I would like to have been a little more descriptive of things like the weather etc.  but the truth is that the cancers and my treatment seem to have extinguished everything else.

         

As previous, it was agreed that I would go to “Queen’s” on my own and Pat would come up later to collect me. The sedative was administered but the procedure was more uncomfortable than the first time, possibly due to it being a somewhat more extensive procedure. I did experience some gagging but this was nothing in comparison to what was to come later. An hour after I was taken to the resting ward I was wondering whether there was going to be any further unpleasant surprises but gladly not on this occasion.

         

The time had come to accept the possibility that life, especially for Pat, might be changing. I had to put my affairs in order. For the next few days I was glued to the phone and making notes on all the bureaucracy that Pat would have to contend with in the event of my demise. There was no point in trying to hide from the possibility so I phoned every company or establishment that Pat would need to contact and had them talk me through which departments, telephone numbers and documents she would need to inform them of the new situation she would now find herself in. Going through the bureaucracy process after a loved one has died is the last thing anybody wants to be going through so I wanted to make it as painless as possible. We even visited three funeral parlours to determine the service that I wanted and the prices of each. We were amazed at the difference between them for exactly the same service. I had already settled on the music that I wanted played and each parlour was amused that I wanted the people leaving the service to do so dancing to the Conga. I wanted my life and death to be celebrated and for people to remember me as the person I am and was for good or bad.

         

Visiting funeral parlours is not normally a bundle of laughs even if it was being done with the best of intentions. Her job, as she saw it, was to support me in any way that she could and that included staying strong. The stress on Pat wasn’t obvious but it was there being very carefully hidden. Every time we had a meal she was watching for the signs of my difficulty in eating.

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Day 33 - 20th September, 2024

Well, the holiday to Gran Canaria is over and it’s back to the reality of normal life. It was a nice change, and I met a number of really nice people who have experienced cancer problems. I’m sure it was helpful to them that they could talk to someone about their own experience, and they were only too happy to make a donation to my fund. 

The problem with holidays is the going, the coming back and the aftermath. Gatwick is the obvious airport for me to use and generally I find it quite efficient despite it being so busy. The outbound journey was delayed by two hours which meant the hotel restaurant and bar were closed for the night by the time we got there, and the return flight was also delayed by an hour which meant we didn’t arrive home until 2 a.m., 4 a.m before we got to bed. For me the biggest problem with Gatwick is that it is so big and the walk from the departure lounge to the departure gate is arduous and takes so long. The walk from the plane, on the return journey, is even longer and is a real test of fitness especially if you have a problem with your feet as I do. I think that the airport authority should do what the organizers of marathons do which is to place tables at intervals on route with bottles of water for passengers like me to take when they are flagging.

 

I’ve been advised by a number of people that I can get assistance within the airport but I don’t want to give in because I feel it could be the beginning of a slippery slope if I do. A loss of independence is something that many sufferers of serious illnesses have concerns about when trying to recover from their ordeals. What else will I take the easy option with? For the time being at least I will have to put up with it. 

 

Then there is the problem of the washing and ironing of all the clothes we’ve worn while we have been away and the catching up of the gardening etc. It’s days before everything is back to normal so Is it worth it? Of course it is.

The moaning done with, I’m putting my positive hat back on and starting to look at ways I can boost the Charity fund. I have several things in mind and will reveal them as and when they come to fruition.

 

I continued with ‘the Walk’ while I was away and, despite the reduced sleep after the return journey, I was out at 10.30 a.m and back on my Eastbury Square journey on the morning of my arrival home. Got to get my priorities right.

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Terry's Cancer Journey - Episode 3 - Choices

After identifying the problem with my bowel I now faced a colonoscopy examination. The procedure was set to be done 5 days later. The appointments were coming thick and fast and I barely had time to get used to what was going on.

Like the endoscopy, the colonoscopy is done under a sedative so some mild discomfort is all I would feel. What went before was the worst part. In order to “clear out” my bowel it was necessary, the night before the procedure, to take a laxative mixture. Litres of the nastiest liquid I have ever tasted had to be downed. By the morning I was drained of energy and much more. Once again, I had to call on Lynda and Alan as I had to be collected from King George’s Hospital.  The sedative was to be administered in a holding ward while I was awaiting my turn but my veins decided to go into hiding. It took three different nurses of increasing rank to finally succeed. This was to become an increasing problem as time went on. I felt exhausted even before I was taken into the theatre. Procedure completed and after one hour resting in the holding ward, I was taken into to see the doctor. Déjà vu. “We found three polyps which were not cancerous, but may have become cancerous later, which we have removed”, I was told, “but the bad news is you do have a cancer growth. We will send the results to your consultant”. This time I was stunned. I had been optimistic of being cured of one cancer but two was surely too much to survive. When I was finally released into the custody of Lynda and Alan I looked a wreck. It was hard enough telling them the news, but how was I going to be able to tell Pat and when?

         

Back home, Alan offered to stay with me but I had to decline, all I wanted to do was sleep but first I would have to phone Pat later that evening. Would you believe it, I forgot to tell her what had happened that day. It happens. Many weeks later Pat told me that that evening was when she suspected something was not quite right. It was my voice that gave me away but she had assumed it was depression at me being on my own. Amber knew more than anyone else that something serious was going on. She was even more loving than usual and rarely left my side during those two weeks. Women and dogs share a special sense in that respect.

         

Things had changed. Dramatically. On the 6^th April there was another meeting with Mr. Mukherjee and Rose but also present was Consultant Surgeon Mr.Boulton. The two surgeons had conferred about how my treatment could continue and I was given three options to choose from. Remember that Pat was still on holiday. I could have waited for her return to discuss it with her but I wanted no delays, the quicker the decision the sooner the nightmare would be over, one way or another. Every operation no matter how seemingly minor carries a risk but there are degrees of risk to consider. The Oesophagus operation carries quite a high risk and also what has to be considered is the chances of infection.

 

The three options were:-

-       Have the operation to remove the cancer of the oesophagus first, allow time to recover, then have the bowel operation.

-       Have both cancers removed in a joint operation carried out by both surgeons. This operation would take approx. 12 hours (9 hours for the oesophagus and 3 hours for the bowel). The risk for this option would be higher because of possible internal seepage which could increase the infection risk.

-       The third option was to do nothing.  “Which cancer?” I asked, “will kill me if I take this option”. “Toss a coin, either way you will be just as dead.” No mincing with words there.

 

I had no hesitation in choosing the second option mostly because at 75 I couldn’t afford a prolonged spell of treatment. Successful treatment or not I didn’t want to waste any of the time I had left in this world. For no reason I can give you I still believed that the skill of Messrs. Mukherjee and Boulton would see me through. If not, then, we all have to die sometime and I doubted that I would be the exemption to the rule.

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Day 23 - 10th September, 2024

 

I have found a more scenic route for my Charity walk which is right behind my hotel. Although more convenient it is a much more testing walk because it is stoney underfoot and the wind coming off the Atlantic is very strong bringing me almost to a standstill at times. Fortunately it is still warm and the scenery is better than the row of houses which constituted the backdrop to my  previous choice of walk even if they are very nice houses. The total mileage I have now covered is above 14 miles (23 kilometres) but I have a long way to go. I hope “My Cancer Journey” story is not only interesting but enlightening as well. If you can, please donate to my fund as the equipment we would like to purchase will make the treatment of current patients not only that little bit better but will enhance their chances of survival.

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Terry's Cancer Journey - Episode 2 - A Problem Shared, A Problem Doubled

On the day I was diagnosed with oesophageal cancer I had had time to think while we were on the bus coming home and had already decided that we should keep the diagnosis to ourselves. I did not want constant phone calls or visits nor neighbours constantly asking me how I felt. In truth I didn’t feel ill, nor did I look ill, I just wanted to go about my life as normal. A few days later I recanted on that decision when I realised that I was not being fair to Pat. There would surely be times when she needed someone to talk to so we decided that we would confide in Pat’s cousin Lynda and her husband Alan, but only on the basis that they were sworn to secrecy. Pat and Lynda are more like sisters than cousins and Alan and I are good mates, and they live relatively local to us, so they were the obvious choice. Quite apart from anything else I could not see the point of having family and friends worrying unnecessarily about something they could do nothing about. A “problem shared is a problem halved” is not always true. 

Five days later we were sitting with Consultant Surgeon Mr Mukherjee who had confirmed the cancer diagnosis. He outlined the next steps to be taken which involved a C.T scan, a P.E.T scan and another endoscopy but this time it would have a special fitment that would not only show the exact location of the cancer but could also measure its size and probably other necessary data. Mr.Mukherjee was very optimistic which was reassuring. I was also appointed two specialist nurses with a dedicated telephone number that I could call at any time and, if in the event they were not immediately available, I would receive a call back within 24 hours at the latest. Throughout the whole of my treatment, we only had to use this facility once but it was another reassurance. All was not lost so it seemed. In the meantime, my oesophagus problem continued which by now meant lots of soup and other easily swallowed delicacies.

 

The C.T scan was done four days later after which Pat and I had to have another serious discussion. Some months previously Pat had booked a two-week holiday to Cyprus but felt in the circumstances that she should cancel it rather than leave me on my own. It wasn’t unusual for us to have holidays apart as well as going together. The best of both worlds. She added that even if she went, she wouldn’t be able to enjoy it. I didn’t agree. It was my opinion that there was no reason to cancel because I had no appointments or procedures during the time she would be away so it would be a pointless gesture. I accepted that she would continue to worry about me but I didn’t feel ill and pointed out that there was likely to be some rough times ahead and a rest from housework, cooking etc would do her the world of good and stand her in good stead for the days ahead. After much to-ing and fro-ing, it was finally agreed that she would go but only if I promised to phone her every night. This was before we had ever heard of the likes of FaceTime and Zoom. Agreement was reached at last.

         

Pat was due to depart for her holiday on the 27^th March but, a few days before, I received a call from Rose, one of the specialist nurses, while Pat was out shopping, telling me that a vacant appointment was available for the P.E.T. scan on the day that Pat was going on holiday. Pat was going away early in the morning and the appointment was late morning which gave me time to get her to the local tube station, wave her goodbye, then get to St.Thomas’s hospital on the south side of Westminster bridge to keep the appointment. I said yes then immediately rang Alan and asked him to look after Amber, our Golden Retriever, while I kept the appointment. It’s approximately just over an hour’s journey from my home to St Thomas’s so I couldn’t take the chance of Amber being left on her own for too long. Alan agreed straight away as I knew he would, but I had to make him swear he wouldn’t tell Pat. Let’s be clear here, I didn’t lie, I just forgot to tell her. It happens.

         

On the 27^th everything went to plan, I took Pat and her suitcase to Upney tube station, waved her goodbye and then returned home to await Alan. I arrived at St.Thomas’s on time, was seen to on time and was on my way home in no time. Before it was time that evening to call Pat I received another call from Rose asking if I could travel to “Queen’s” the next morning as Mr. Mukherjee wanted to talk to me. I thought that 8p.m. was a bit late for a call but then put it out of my mind. I also forgot to tell Pat about that during our phone call. It happens.

         

The next morning my consultant explained that the results of the P.E.T . scan had identified a possible problem in the bowel area and it would mean undergoing a colonoscopy examination to identify what that problem was. Not another problem and procedure to go through was what went through my mind. What choice did I have?

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Day 19 - 6th September, 2024

For a long time, a very long time, I thought that I would never be able to take a photo like this, me packed and waiting for the cab to collect me and take me to Gatwick airport ready to for my flight to Gran Canaria.

The journey didn’t start well when Pat dropped my iPad and shattered the screen. The flight was delayed two hours and by the time we arrived at the hotel the restaurant and the bar were closed. It was midnight before we got into the room

I’m finally settled into the hotel and have marked and 

made my first walk. It’s very hilly here so the flattest area I could find was the long avenue right outside the hotel entrance. It’s so quiet here that on that first walk I didn’t see a soul. More details in due course.

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Terry's Cancer Journey - Episode 1 - "What If?"

This is not a story to be read and enjoyed. It’s the true story of the dedication and expertise of all the staff in the Surgical and Oncology units at Queen’s Hospital Romford who saved a man’s life. My life. It’s the story of the speed with which my serious illness was dealt with.

It’s a story of “What Ifs”.

What if my G.P. had delayed his decision to make the original decision to refer me to the hospital by two weeks or maybe more?

What if the first scan (endoscopy) had been delayed by two weeks or more?

What if the first appointment with a consultant surgeon had been delayed by two weeks or more?

What if the times between assessment appointments had been delayed by two weeks or more?

What if the later scans and procedures had been delayed by two weeks or more?

What if the surgery I needed had been delayed by two weeks or more?

 

If all the “What ifs” were added together how would that have affected the outcome of the treatment of my cancers?

 

What if my treatment had run over into the Covid period, would my treatment have been completed and how might my body have coped with Covid? Would I be writing this story?

          

If you believe that the “What ifs” is overly dramatic could I point you to the NHS waiting list times.

          

This story has not been dramatized it simply tells of the trauma and drama experienced by me and my wife (carer).

           

The equipment myself and my hardworking team are endeavoring to raise the funds for, won’t solve all those “What ifs” but if it speeds up one aspect of a patient’s treatment, which it will, it could be the difference between a life saved or a life lost. 

 

Let me go back… 

 

The year 2018 was a vey busy one for me. At the age of 74, working in my garden was becoming more of a chore and less enjoyable than it used to be. My wooden fencing had deteriorated to the point of collapse and too many plants were taking up too much of my time, so I decided that the time had come for a complete redesigning of the garden along with brick walls rather than fencing. Plants that were no longer part of the new design I removed and took down to St Patrick’s church and replanted them in the grounds that surrounded it. It was a solo project, and it took me a whole year. The last piece of crazy paving, to cover the areas where there would be no plants, was laid in the early part of January 2019. I had been disciplined in working from 8 a.m. in the morning, every morning. I felt strong, fit and healthy and was looking forward to my new garden coming to life in the coming Spring. I had no inkling of what was lying in store for me.

 

Only a few days later I had a few episodes whereby, although my food had been swallowed, it had got stuck halfway to my stomach. Pat, my wife, said she thought I was eating my food too quickly and not chewing it properly. As any dutiful husband would I heeded her words but the instances began to occur more frequently and the time taken for the blockage to clear was taking longer and longer. Meals were constantly being interrupted and, in many cases, not finished at all. Time to see Dr. Rhandhawa, my G.P.

 

Dr.Rhandawa was an excellent ‘old school’ no messing about or dithering  type of G.P.who knew his trade and inspired confidence, certainly in me. Having inspected my throat he gave me several possible causes of my problem none of which I can remember now. What I can remember quite clearly was his words “and of course we can’t discount cancer, I’ll make a referral to have a proper look at your throat after which we will know a bit more than we do at the moment”. That last comment lingered in the minds of both myself and Pat while we awaited the appointment date.

 

On the 10^th March 2019 I duly presented myself at Queen’s Hospital in Romford to have an endoscopy and a nurse explained that I would be given a sedative prior to the procedure so I would be awake but would feel no more than a bit of discomfort, possibly some gagging. I would then be taken back to the holding ward for 4 hours before I could be taken home. I had to be accompanied when I left and driving was not an option. Pat and I had agreed a time for her to arrive at the hospital but she arrived much earlier than I expected and idled away the time in the waiting room. The procedure appeared to go well but It couldn’t have been more than an hour later when a nurse came and told me that the doctor who had performed the procedure  wanted to see me. I firmly believed that I was only going to be signing the usual release documents until Pat was also brought into the consulting room. Neither of us was expecting this and we were both very tense as you would expect.

 

Gently we were advised by the doctor who carried out the procedure that he had found cancer in the oesophagus. Everything went quiet for a moment until I queried at how quickly he knew. “I’ve been doing this for a long while and I know Cancer when I see it” was his reply. He went on to tell us that the result would be checked officially and then the hospital would contact us to advise the next steps. Whether it was the sedative still in my system I don’t know but I don’t remember feeling any particular emotion. Pat also showed no emotion but later she told me she just went numb but was determined to be strong for fear of upsetting me unnecessarily.

          

I don’t know the name of that doctor and never saw him again but he was one of many, many back room personnel that I came across that never see the limelight but whose contribution to a patient’s well being is vital.

          

We walked through the hospital and then to the bus stop holding hands but neither of us spoke a word. What was there to say? The silence continued until we reached home and like all sensible people we made a cup of tea.

For more information on the symptoms of oesophageal cancer please visit https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/oesophageal-cancer/symptoms/

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Day 14 - 1st September, 2024

Some of the mornings recently have been quite windy and this morning especially so. I had to hang on to my trusty hat most of the way on my walk today and a few leaves were starting to fall from the trees in the grounds of the Eastbury Manor House. Autumn is a season of such opposites, in many ways so beautiful but in other ways depressing as the nights draw in and the temperature drops.

On my walk I thought of my brother, who died 14 years ago. I think of him often but this morning especially so. He was six years younger than me and died aged 61 of cancer but his was pancreatic. By the time he was diagnosed it was too late, too far gone to be operable and even chemotherapy was of little use and yet, until him, there had been no history of cancer in my family. He was a wonderful man, a great salesman and forever an optimist. Such a shame. I miss him.

 

On a cheerier note, I have been gradually packing for my holiday starting in a few days' time to Gran Canaria.  We booked it about six months ago even though I wasn’t sure I would be fit enough to go but I took a chance and it has paid off. I am not only fit enough to go but really looking forward to it. Don’t worry peeps the blog and the walk will continue while I’m away. As soon as I get there a walk will be marked out and I will continue as usual. My son Roy, who is the engine room of this campaign, will also be taking a short break but not from the campaign. He is like the Duracell bunny. It will be the same distance, just a different venue and scenery. I’m wondering what the locals are going to think when they see this crazy looking little old man wandering around their streets dressed in his King George and Queen’s Hospitals t-shirt and rumpled hat, and shorts I hasten to mention. In the hotspots there I’m sure they have seen worst sights but where I am going it’s much quieter and I shall probably stick out like a sore thumb. When I get home things will have changed. The kids will be back at school and Autumn will have set in properly meaning lots of catching up in the garden.

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Day 13 - 31st August, 2024

May I start by saying thank you to all the lovely people who have made donations to my charity fund and I hope that you are enjoying my blog.

Pat enjoyed her lunch at Tarantino’s and I enjoyed watching her. The food was good as always and the staff their usual attentive selves.

 

A few days ago I mentioned stars and as I walked around the square this morning, lost in my thoughts, I looked back on the stars that I have properly met. Many years ago Pat and I owned and ran a sports shop for 10 years and had several stars as customers. Frank Lampard Snr. was one along with Kenny Ball the Jazz man. 

We were often invited, by our sport suppliers, to attend trade fairs where we met, albeit very briefly, many sporting celebrities. The two most memorable were Daley Thompson and Trevor Brooking both perfect gentlemen and very approachable and amiable.

Being music fans, mostly but not always Country music, Pat and I have attended many concerts and gigs preferring the small clubs to the larger arenas. We have had the pleasure of meeting on several occasions Albert Lee, fondly known as the third Everly Brother as well as Rodney Crowell and Glen D Hardin pianist extraordinaire who accompanied most of the big artists including Elvis and Roy Orbison. My personal all time favourite is Emmylou Harris who invited us backstage at the Albert Hall to meet her and the band. Such a memorable evening.

Pat is an artist and did a painting of Albert Lee which she presented to him at what was then known as the Hammersmith Odeon. It’s changed names many times since then. Because the show was about to begin he wasn’t able to look at the painting while we were there but had one of the roadies put into the tour bus. We have often wondered what he thought of the painting and whether he took it to the U.S. where he now lives. More probably it’s languishing in an attic or a charity shop somewhere. It was a good painting which would be a shame.

Unfortunately, we don’t get to shows much these days.

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