Lymphoma Reflections . . .

Today is the 20^th May and two years ago I began a journey that has changed my life and the lives of those around me forever. On this day in 2008 I was admitted to hospital having spoken to the good people at NHS direct because I had concerning tingling in my left arm and had noticed my veins protruding unusually down my left hand side. Assuming it was a circulation problem we dropped the kids at school and headed for A&E. As it turns out the circulation problem was a ‘bulky’ tumour (10cm’s is pretty bulky) pushing on my aorta and after two weeks, a chest biopsy, CT scans, bone biopsy (ouch) and a reasonable amount of prodding I was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma – Large B-Cell Mediastinal Hon-Hodgkin Lymphoma – for the Lymphoma buffs.

My wife, Sally, and my two children Oscar and Molly, who were 4 and 2 at the time, had to learn to cope with a new lifestyle. We settled into a rhythm of 3 weekly chemo interspersed with clinic visits and blood tests, emotional ups and downs and balancing work and childcare. We learnt a new vocabulary, read anything we could to understand what I would be going through and were bowled over by the high standard of care we received through the NHS.

Cancer is a horrible disease that takes away more than just lives but I have been lucky so far. For me I needed quiet time and time to rest, a challenge in a house with young children but my family rose to that challenge. Our extended families came and helped by taking the children out and I missed trips to the circus, swimming, picnics and walks in the woods. I had to take steroids for 5 days after every chemo and my family had to cope with a grumpy man who got angry and shouted or sad and cried. And Sally, had to watch the man she loves change in both appearance and attitude.

When Sally and I talk about 2008, our experiences are poles apart. There are whole chunks of time I’ve forgotten and whilst I worked so hard to try and keep family life normal, sometimes Sally had to take on both our roles. When the only way I could cope with how I was feeling was to go to the beach where it was quiet and the sea-air blew away that horrible drenched-in-chemicals feeling, she just go on with what needed doing. She really should have started wearing her pants on the outside.

But, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Sally’s self-reliance during that time has led to a positive change in her outlook and self-confidence and I love her all the more for it. Oscar and Molly proved themselves to be the caring beautiful children they are and continue to be, the love and understanding they gave me during that time belies their young age, they are truly incredible. And for me there were some magical experiences in 2008. I flew kites, a lot, and met a worldwide group of friends online because of it who looked out for me, sent me kind messages and came to Prestatyn to fly with me. I took the children camping when I was feeling better in between chemo and we splashed in muddy puddles, toasted marshmallows and climbed on rocks. I worked when I could and my employers looked after me and my work colleagues accommodated me, I was really lucky. I was reminded time and time again how incredibly fortunate we are to live where we live, to be able to walk to the beach or drive in the hills at a moments notice. I watched the Beijing Olympics and felt inspired by the athletes. My brother turned 40 and we had a joyful time with family when I was at one of my lowest ebbs, and us 3 boys sat out till late talking rubbish over a coolbox of beer.

And all the time I dared to consider what I would do when I was better. I dreamt of sliding down snowy mountains, of cycling in the hills or walking up Snowdon.

Now here I am, last weekend I did my first triathlon, yesterday I cycled 50 miles on the work commute and last night I sat round a table in a pub with a bunch of great mates planning our ascent of the 15 highest peaks in Snowdonia in 24 hours. . . .

Next I’ll be saying I’m going to jump out of a plane!