Fingers crossed

Last January, in comparison to now was literally a dark place. Winter had us all firmly in it’s grip and the C word was creeping just around the corner to change our lives going forward. Who would ever have imagined back then, the summer ritual of driving to the shops and experiencing that heart sinking moment of........ ugh, I haven’t got a mask......

I had been unsuccessfully operated on for 7 hours, to remove a kidney and it’s invading, free loading tumour. Told I had between 2-4 years of “not very nice” treatment ahead, which wouldn’t cure me, but just keep me going. Don’t make plans for year 5. 

Had the disappointment of a second opinion at the Marsden confirm that the first hospital were right, that was how it would be. Sat in a chair in the middle of the night while my family slept on, sadness doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

Experienced the optimistic joy of a following week phone call from the Marsden telling me two surgeons who weren’t at the previous weeks multi panel meeting believed they could perform the failed operation successfully.

 Being dropped at the Marsden, Chelsea on Good Friday, the capital looking like a post apocalyptic film set. 3 hours later, a kidney, a tumour, a 5% liver portion removed including a stubborn part of tumour hanging onto the main artery taking blood to the legs. 5 days in hospital at the very peak of Covid...... and home. One, lucky lucky boy. 

Now, the first scan due, blood test due, hoping they come back ok. I feel ok, don’t know anyone that’s had a kidney removed to compare notes with. Playing golf, working from home, def not lost weight. In fact I’m surprised I haven’t melted the fridge door hinges the number of times my face is scanning the shelves. 

I feel very lucky to have got rid, and very anxious it’ll come back. I get days where I just feel “different” to how I normally feel. Not even under the weather, not sick, just “different”. Then it passes, probably bad diet, too much tea and coffee, just a bug, who knows. 

There is always hope people, sometimes it seems lost forever, like it did that night in the chair. The night I joined this cancer support site. The lows of an unexpected illness that would change my family forever, the highs of a second chance because of a brilliant surgery team and staff at the Marsden. 

I live in hope that it’s gone, but however much longer that miracle surgery has given me, I love every minute of everyday. I hope in some way, you all can too. Never give up.