So Today I finally became a fully paid up member of this club. Up until now I have felt like a bit of a fraud. A bit like it wasn't really happening. Just words being said to me and nothing of it was really real.
Let me go back to the very start to explain.
On 19 April 2014 I made yet another trip to the home of my beloved Wolverhampton Wanderers to see what became one of the most memorable games I have ever seen a 6 - 4 win over Rotherham. I came out of the game feeling great, and had just the slightest feelig of a sore throat, but that was nothing unusual to be honest.
I woke up the next morning, the Sunday feeling a little hoarse, but still nothing unusual. I knew that by Monday or Tuesday everything would be fine and the voice would be good for the next match.
By the Wednesday, and then Thursday and Friday the throat was no better so I just thought I had picked up a bug and in another week or so it would all be fine.
Another week passed and still no better, although it was no worse either. My wife by now was starting to ell me to go and see the doc. I just thought it would be a waste of his and my time. You know how it is, I take time out of work, he smiles politely as he listens to my drone, hands over a packet of nondescript antibiotics, and we all go our ways. To be honest I couldn't be bothered with all the fuss and hassle.
This went on until mid May. The throat was not getting better (or worse), the wife still nagging and me still procrastinating over a visit to the GP.
Then I felt a small lump in the back of my mouth. Still I thought nothing of it. My wife went into panic mode and the nagging to see the doctor became incessant. So just to appease her worrying mind I relented and under suffrage made an appointment to see my GP.
A week later I trudged along after work to see a GP I had never seen before. He sat And listened politely as I droned on, muttered something about a virus or blocked gland, handed over the prescription for some antibiotic and said to see him in a week if nothing was better. I duly trotted off to the receptionist, wrangled with her over an appointment the following week in case I needed it and went away expecting to not see the inside of the surgery for the next five or so years.
The week and the antibiotics came and went with no improvement, if anything the lump was slightly larger so I popped back to see the doc expecting a further dose of pills, a pat on the head and another 'come and see me in a week '.
However this was the moment the GP turned into SUPERGP. He looked into my mouth, put on the blue gloves, prodded and
probed and then, while I was sat in front of him, was straight onto the facial maxillo department of the local hospital, and within minutes, after relaying details of my symptoms and soreness, had an appointment for me to see them in a couple of days.
I had X-rays at the first appointment there, and a doctor took a look. Then a consultant took a look, there was a lot of whispering and coming and going and to-ing and fro-ing, and from there a biopsy was organised for a few days later, from where cancer of the tonsil was diagnosed.
Since then my life seems to have become a blur of tests, scans, needles, nurses, doctors, consultants, x-rays, bloods, Dieticians, advice, pamphlets, leaflets, advice and waiting in hospital waiting rooms.
All this time, I have felt no worse, looked no different, kept working, and feeling like it was just happening all around me or to someone else. Like I said at the start I felt like a bit of a fraud
Until today.
Today I have had my first radiotherapy treatment and suddenly it has all become very very real. No problems with the treatment, although the mask was somewhat uncomfortable. But all very real. For the first time I feel some worry about how it will go, some anguish about how the family will get on with me being off my feet, some trepidation about how the radio and chemo will actually affect me. How bad will it get ?
Tomorrow I am having a PEG tube fitted to help me feed towards the end of my treatment, and I am not looking forward to that in the least, but I suppose its another step towards being cured, as will the first chemo treatment on Wednesday.
I am trying to prepare for the worst but hope for the best, but to tell the truth, for the first time since I was diagnosed I am actually worried about the physical getting through the treatment and getting better.
So anyway, after all that I have come to the conclusion that today is the first day of the rest of my life, one down twenty nine to go seems a better way too look at it than six weeks of treatment.
