Here’s Johnny………… I’m back.

There’s good news and there’s some not quite so good news. The good news is that you can get to read my inane ramblings again for a little while longer. The not so good news? Hmmmmm…………… read on.

After the fun and games of having my Biopsy I went to the RBH to meet the Head Honcho a couple of weeks ago to discuss the results. He made Scary look like Mother Theresa in his blunt and direct approach. The biopsy was clear, there was no sign of cancer. However he was concerned that my throat was still pretty swollen and suggested that unless the swelling reduced there was a fair to even chance that cancer might make a guest appearance again. With that he took a phone call, and said they’d see me in three months at the end of October. So we left feeling pretty upbeat to have been changed from monthly check-ups’ to quarterly, happy days.

In the middle weekend of August, Carol, Max and I travelled down to Porthcothan Bay in Cornwall for a long weekend of camping. I’ve been going to Carnevas Camping site for somewhere in the region of 45 years, indeed Carol and I had our honeymoon there (we were broke!). We had a cracking four days, it only rained for about 3 hours on Saturday morning, the rest of the time was glorious sunshine. When the sun shines in Cornwall you’re hard pressed to find a better place to be.

We left around lunch time on Monday, after visiting Boscastle for breakfast and a wander up the cliffs. The fun and games started about 20 miles from Exeter on the A30. Reports came through that the road ahead was closed and we started queuing about 12 miles from the M5, so I shot off at the nearest exit and wound our way through various narrow B roads to Exeter City itself. By the time we’d made our way through the city we were at least an hour behind schedule. Getting onto the M5 just north of Exeter should have meant a journey home of just over two hours. Oh no, it took nearly three and a half hours. Stop start traffic all the way up to Bristol.

It was just after we’d driven past Taunton that the phone rang, answered hands free of course! At this point in the journey home I was feeling pretty pissed off, so the answer to the ringing was a rather curt “Yes?” rather than my usual cheery greeting.

“Hi Paul, it’s Jo from the Royal Berks here, how are you?” Hmmm……  I thought, pretty sure this isn’t a social call…..

Jo went on to ask if I could recall what Mr More Scary than Scary had said about my PET Scan. From memory it wasn’t discussed, we only talked about the biopsy which was clear. It was at this point that my heart stopped beating. Jo asked if I was free to get into the clinic to see Scary and discuss the PET Scan on Thursday, as Scary was away for two weeks after that. Call me a cynical old Hector, but they weren’t going to be calling me in to say “Hello Paul, everything is fine, we’ll see you next year.” Sleep was a struggle for the next three nights ahead of the appointment. My mind kept going back to December of last year when we were called back in on Christmas Eve to have our first meeting with Scary and Jo. What followed was probably the most emotional 72 hours of my life. The first “FB” post telling folk my news, sitting the kids down and saying “Dads got cancer”, seeing the friends at OBR, you get the picture.

Thursday arrived, I struggled to do anything overly proactive work wise in the morning, my mind was on other things. I got to the RBH as usual an hour ahead of my appointment, walked around in the sun and drank a large cappuccino before checking into the ENT Dept. My appointment was at 4.20, and I was eventually called in at 4.50 to meet the original (& best) Scary. She explained that whilst the biopsy had proved to be clear for my throat, the PET Scan had looked at my whole body and a lump had been found in my stomach area. Bearing in mind my recent history this can’t just be ignored.

What does this news mean? Well, the 14 Day Pathway has risen its head again, however as Carol and I are off to the Canaries on 3^rd September I won’t get seen prior to that. I’ll be having an exploratory operation, hopefully pretty soon after coming back, which will dictate what further treatment, if any, is required. Scary was pretty positive in her diagnosis and I do trust her judgement. She used lots of long words and complicated phrases, the main ones I heard were “Laxatives” “Stong” and “Not overly pleasant” I think someone is going to be sticking something up my bottom again! It could well be nothing to worry about at all, and that is the way we’re going to look at it until proven otherwise. I'd also mention that if it was that urgent it would have been a case of "Do not pass Go, do not collect £200, go straight to the operating table"

Scary then really showed why she’s a “Top Bird”. Bear in mind the clinic had run late, I was her last patient for the day and I’m sure she wanted to get away. But no, she took the time to ask how I was getting on, and not just from a throat point of view. I mentioned that I’m struggling to eat any carbs at the moment which surprised her as the RT shouldn’t have had too much effect. Her advice is to try eating “Slippery” food, so I guess that’s a diet of Oysters from now on in.

So, where does this leave us? Well, Carol and I will be disappearing to the Canaries, Anna will be back off to Uni and Max will continue with his A Levels after nailing his exams at the second time of asking. Life will go on as normal. Work will be done, bills will be paid, photos will be taken, and words will be written. If, and it’s a bloody big IF, the news comes back as not great then as a family we’ll kick it back into touch, just like we did last time.

As always, thanks for reading.

To be continued………………

#shouldertoshoulder