Keep smiling

Chronicle managing editor Dave Whaley: normal working will resume as soon as possible

Chronicle managing editor David Whaley has just been diagnosed with throat cancer. In the first in a series, David presents his treatment diary.


WEDNESDAY, April 30, 2014, is certainly a date that will stick in my memory.
That was when my wife Wendy and I heard a doctor use the word “tumour” and the realisation that I had cancer.

I wasn’t something that had even been on my radar that morning as we took the drive to Fairfield Hospital. But let’s rewind.

At the beginning of 2014 I awoke from a fabulous celebration of the new year to find over-indulgence had left me a touch hoarse. Self-inflicted and a small price to pay for a brilliant 2013 finale, I thought, but it persisted.

By the time I was doing a favour for a friend by acting as master of ceremonies for the Mayor of Tameside’s Valentine’s Ball, it was getting worse. But that weekend I broke out in a heavy cold. It all made perfect sense. I just had to battle through my man flu and all would return to normal. Except it didn’t.

It was three weeks before the cold departed. Still no voice.

Wendy had heard enough — and had seen the TV adverts urging people to get checked out if a cough persists. A couple of weeks later she booked an appointment with my GP in Shaw.

Dr Walsh heard me relate the above and didn’t even need to take a look. A trip to a specialist was required.

All the Ear, Nose and Throat treatment in this area is now undertaken at Fairfield in Heywood. Consultant Mr Gordon got my attention when he put a camera up my nose to take a look. There was something on my vocal cords - so he would need to have me under general anaesthetic to get a better look; maybe do some laser work if it turned out to be nodules. They would do a routine biopsy at the same time.

They didn’t mess around. I was back there a week later. Next day I felt like I’d taken a whack to the jaw from Barry McGuigan (my boxing hero) and realised that’s what happens when they “put you under”.

In my mind they had gone in, found the problem and taken a laser to it. Job done.

I couldn’t see quite why Wendy wanted to be there for the results - until Mr Gordon spoke those words.

While I had been getting on with life at the Chronicle, Wendy and my sister had been playing Dr Google.

The words “tumour” and “cancer” were what she had been dreading, and wasn’t surprised when she heard them.

I wasn’t emotional; I didn’t go punching walls or blanking out and forgeting everything else that was said. I was fine — and what followed was the best news I could get, in the circumstances.

The cancer had been caught early, because thanks to the voice-change indictaor, throat cancer is often one caught early. Radiotherapy could be enough to beat it.

We went from hospital to break the news to my family. My sister knew the second I walked into her Littleborough florist’s shop and my mum knew because I hadn’t rung. But we were soon seeing the positive and getting ready for the fight ahead.

I was cheered by the observation that if I needed chemo at least I wouldn’t lose my hair! Now 53, I have been bald since I was 28.

Our family motto has always been “Keep Smiling”. So we will: bring it on!

Next week: A team of experts and an army of support.