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 27th 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 27th 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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