THE FINAL CHAPTER STARING PATIENT AND WIFE AND FEATURING THE WEATHER

Early morning on the day before treatment, Patient and wife having packed warmest clothes and thermals, surf the internet for details of flight delays, or cancellations on the Birmingham to Frankfurt route. None are posted, both airports are said to be operational, even though it is snowing in Frankfurt. Two hours later snow is still falling in Frankfurt, but now, to meet the check-in time, they need to leave for Birmingham. The house secured, luggage loaded into the car, our intrepid travellers swaddled in layers of warm clothing, slither along icy roads. Fate is on their side. Two miles on they are able to join the almost snow free motorway. Fast forward to an airport check-in desk. Passports are presented, booking details checked, then……the airlines computer goes down…..twenty minutes later, service is restored and boarding passes are issued. On to security. Divested of several layers of outer garments, scanning commences. Wife’s hand luggage passes screening, and she collects her bundle of clothing and waits for the patient. He is not so lucky. His liquid medication is contained in large, unopened plastic containers and so must be examined. The repeat prescription is presented, and a supervisor summoned to inspect the contents of the various containers. What are these medicines for he asks. Wife wants to shout cancer, but knowing patient will be embarrassed, she bites her tongue while he says Mesothelioma. The supervisor has no idea what he is talking about, decides the patient is an unlikely threat and waves him through to the departure lounge. So far so good. After a nervous two hours, boarding starts at appointed time, and soon our travellers are belted in ready for take off. The pilot welcomes them on board, and announces that it is snowing in Frankfurt. He hopes conditions will allow landing there, but it may be necessary to divert to another airport. Patient and wife try desperately to recall from long ago geography lessons where that might be, and how long it might take to travel on to Frankfurt. Memories have dimmed with age, and guesses range across most of northern Europe. Wife is fortified with an expensive glass of cheap wine. The flight is otherwise uneventful. As the plane descends into Frankfurt, the extent of the snowfall is apparent, but our brave pilot makes a successful landing. The temperature is well below freezing, as the passengers squelch and slide from the plane into a bus (this is low cost flying), for the ride to the terminal building. Against the odds and wife’s better judgement, they have arrived. Fast forward to the following day. After an anxious wait, patient and wife are ushered into the presence of the professor who has already done more to retard the growth of the tumour than the combined resources of UK medicine could achieve. Today he is going to remove as much as possible by laser. The tumour will not completely disappear, and at some time in the future, will start to grow again, with the inevitable result. The patient signs a consent form, and is taken into the charge of a nurse who reassures wife he will be well looked after and promises to call her as soon as the procedure is done. An hour later the nurse come tells wife all went well and ushers her into the ward where the patient will rest for four hours before returning to the hotel. Wife sheds tears of relief, while the sedated patient snores gently. When the patient wakes, nurses offer him and wife food and drinks. Before discharge, the patient is whisked off for a chest X-ray to check there is no internal bleeding. All is well, they can return to the hotel for the night. An appointment is made for a final scan and consultation the following morning. After the events of the last two days, wife does not sleep well for most of the night, listening out for any signs of breathing problems as the patient slumbers on. At the next morning’s consultation, the professor tells patient and wife that the procedure was a success, and overall, a seventy percent reduction to the tumour has been achieved. Wife holds back tears, remembering the original prognosis of nine to twelve months survival, already well exceeded. The treatment has severely depleted lifetime savings, but the patient is thriving and she prays he continues to do so for a long time yet. In a Hollywood production, romantic music would swell to a crescendo as miraculously cured patient and wife fly off into the sunset. The reality is a return to a snowy and fogbound Birmingham airport and an uncertain future.