The Truth. The Whole Truth. And a Bit of Personal Comment.

Firstly, apologies are in order as I haven't blogged for some time despite the momentous events that have been taking place.  That is because I wanted to speak to as many of you as I possibly could before posting what has happened here.  Most of you should already know by now that I have been diagnosed with lung cancer. For the record, this is how it happened...

I took two (glorious) weeks of annual leave to watch the Olympics on the telly.  And they were glorious weeks.  I enjoyed myself thoroughly.  Upon my return to work the following Monday I noticed that I was slightly out of breath when I climbed the stairs in the office.  I didn't think too much of it though as I had spent the previous 2 weeks on my arse on the sofa and was probably a little out of condition.  However, as the week went on things didn't improve and, if anything, got slightly worse.  I therefore decided to make an appointment to see my GP the following week to discuss the matter.

However, on the Saturday I noticed that my temperature was rising slightly (but not worringly so).  Having had pneumonia before and waited so long to get it checked out that I had to be taken to hospital by ambulance I decided to preempt matters and go directly to A&E at Manchester Royal Infirmary.  My best friend in the world, Denise, accordingly obliged by driving me there.  At A&E they took a chest X-Ray which they described as "sufficiently impressive" and decided to admit me.

I was initially admitted to Ward 15 (which is the medical assessment ward) and spent three days there whilst they took samples of the fluid that had accumulated in my pleura (the pleura is a sort of a bag that enclose the lung to protect it).  The fluid in the pleura was compressing my lung which was what was causing my breathing difficulties.  By this time I was on oxygen as the oxygen saturation levels (SATS) in my blood were on the low side.

The fluid they sampled is normally clear but in my case it was filled with blood which was starting to ring alarm bells.  In addition I noted that I did not have the sort of cough (full of phlegm - apologies) that had accompanied the previous bout of pneumonia.  Whilst they awaited the results of the tests I was transferred to ward AM1 (Acute Medical) which is a respiratory diseases ward.

Once on AM1 they sent me for a CT Scan which showed definitively that I had lung cancer and that it had already spread beyond the lung.  This news was devastating as you can imagine.  When I was given the news by the consultant I pretty much broke down not only because of the news but also because I was going to have to tell my parents.  How does one tell one's parents who have already lost one child (you will recall that we lost Sally to MS eleven years ago) that they will also lose their other child.  I just cannot imagine what they are going through although I can see that they are doing their best to be strong for me.  But its not easy for them.

I asked the consultant what the survival rates were for lung cancer and his answer made me laugh when he said "well, some people live for four years".  Of course that was not the question I had asked.  I was asking for the percentage of people who actually got better but it appears that no-one does.  Discussions with a different consultant the following week elicited the response that "we're looking at months rather than years in your case".  But I don't know how many months at this stage because we don't know yet which of the many types of lung cancer I have.

I have had a biopsy and a bronchoscopy both of which have been inconclusive.  The biopsy was difficult because of the blood in the fluid (or pleural effusion) which meant they couldn't be sure they were taking samples from the right place.  The results from the bronchoscopy came back as "serious but not diagnostic" i.e. there were abnormal cells but not of sufficient quality for them to make a firm diagnosis of the type of cancer I have.  Which leads me to what is happening next week.

I have been discharged from MRI and am now at home along with a lot of oxygen bottles and I go into Wythenshawe hospital where they will perform surgery under general anaesthetic to establish once and for all the type of cancer.  At the same time they will drain the pleural effusion and fill the gap with talcum powder (I know!) which will cause the pleura to stick to the lung which will mean that no further accumulation of fluid can take place. And once all that has been done I can start making plans about what to do with the time I have left.

I have been told that I can't fly and I wouldn't get travel insurance now anyway so a round the world trip is not on the cards.  Visits to parts of Europe should be doable though but I'll just need to check out medical arrangements.  I may be fit enough to return to work although given that fact that I have a terminal illness I doubt it will be to my old job.  But plans will be able to be made after next week which is encouraging.

How do I feel?  Not distraught.  I smoked for 25 years and so have no-one to blame for this but myself.  This cancer isn't related to my previous cancer but is a whole new thing.  I'm not worried about dying as my belief system is such that I don't believe any form of consciousness survives death and so the only people to be affected by my death will be the people I leave behind.  I have led a full, interesting and fulfilling life and so I have no regrets about opportunities missed or squandered.  I have been successful in my career and have "made a difference" in my view during my time on this planet.  Indeed I only need to think about all the wonderful friends I have (you would not believe how many cards I've received) to realise that I have lived a good life.  I have upset people along the way (sometimes in a good way) and if you're still upset with me over something then I'm sorry about that but, really, grow up and get over it.  My life really is too short to be worrying about that sort of thing...

The only thing I worry about is the period that leads up to death.  Pain and a loss of control scare me.  I'm assured by nurses that hospices and other care workers prioritise pain relief over prolonging life so that if it is a question of giving you pain relief that is going to kill you they will give it anyway which gives me comfort.  I do want my friends and family to realise though that any decisions made are mine to make.  I will always try and take other people's feeling and wishes into account but at the end of the day (which it will really be this time) I will need to make decisions that are right for me.  If these decisions upset you I apologise but know that I will be doing the right thing for me.

That's all for now.  I will update following next week's hospital admissions.  Questions?