Stark options between the devil and the deep blue sea

David Whaley presents an award to Leo Stott and mum Cara Oldham at the Pride in Oldham Awards. David’s great week was soon to end though

The latest of Chronicle managing editor David Whaley’s series following his diagnosis and treatment for throat cancer.

“I’m sorry, David, but despite our best efforts we have not been able to do the laser surgery. We would not have been able to get to all the cancer-affected areas.”

Those were the words from consultant Mr Murthy I didn’t want to hear as I lay in the recovery room at North Manchester Hospital.

While laser surgery had been my best chance of retaining my voice, the position of the tumour on the left vocal cord was always going to make it a tricky removal.

But the team gave it a good go. They left me as the last operation of the day and what should have been a 20-minute procedure turned into more than 90 minutes of figuring out ways of getting all of the cancer out. “All” being the operative word. Getting some of it would be no solution at all, In the end they had to stop and wake me up.

What a difference a week makes. Seven days earlier I had been surprised by my peers in the North-West media with a special award for these articles, and Maggie Doyle, head of communications at Christie, who had been so instrumental in getting the Chronicle unparalleled access to all areas, was there at the impressive Imperial War Museum function to present the award alongside my smiling wife, Wendy.

Journos can be a cynical crowd but the warmth was overwhelming and to be embraced by Liverpool Echo editor Alistair Machray, whose team won four awards on the night showed the family of journalism does have a heart after all.

We also got to meet “Breakfast” TV star Louise Minchin. I’m not one for TV luvvies but she was totally professional on stage and really sweet off it as we spoke about my story. Our men Darren (Robinson, photography finalist) and Matt (Chambers, sports reporter finalist) weren’t greatly inconvenienced by having their picture taken with her either!

From there, my hectic 99-hour working week rolled to another night of high emotion — the Pride in Oldham Awards — something I’ve been involved in from the start.

It’s a humbling experience to realise what great things people are doing in our borough. I was privileged to be up there on stage for the finale, when the Readers’ Choice award was revealed.

The Springboard Dementia team was amazed to have made the top three and they were beaming.

Little Leo Stott and his mum Cara Oldham entered and little Leo used his wheel-frame to glide across the stage for his second award of the night. I got a high-five! Magic!

Then birthday boy Riley Parrish walked up the steps with his parents. He had a stroke when he was four and they thought that was a walk he might never have been able to undertake.

As I gave Riley the trophy his eyes lit up and the QE Hall crowd was on its feet singing “Happy Birthday”. It made me realise what adversity these young Oldhamers had overcome. We all left with our hearts full to bursting. Oh what a night!

The good news just kept on coming. First I won the £40 in-house lottery bonus ball, which always goes down well with my colleagues! Then we heard the new we had waited all year to report: M&S had finally signed the deal to come to Oldham.

That same morning I got a call from speech therapist Janice Lang — another of the women who had conspired to keep my award so secret — to say there been a cancellation and could I come to North Manchester Hospital for a swallow test. They wanted to check that a niggly chest infection was just that, and not caused by food particles getting into my lungs because of the throat problem.

They showed me the footage - which was rather strange - but saw my ability to swallow as OK.

Our alarm was set for an early start on op-day: we got there at 7.45am, only to be told that I was going to be last on the list. They were planning to keep me in overnight anyway and there was a bed on a ward for me, so at least I had that and Radio 4 to keep me relaxed and occupied.

But this is where the great week faltered. When I returned at around 7pm, Wendy was there. We talked about what had happened and she put on a brave face.

I’d had nothing to eat or drink for nearly 24 hours but when they go “in” via the mouth they aren’t exactly gentle and my fat lip, sore teeth and gums, and a throat that had a rasp fitted as standard meant it took me an age to eat a sandwich and drink a cup of tea.

Wendy left with the tough task of telling friends and family the news. There were tears, but in true Whaley tradition she had her best war paint on by next morning and we walked out hand in hand to face the world.

Before leaving I was spoken to by the registrar and speech therapist Janice.

The options are now rather stark.

I may be heading for a hemi-laryngectomy - partial removal of my larynx. This would leave me with some voice, but can cause swallowing problems that could lead to feeding nil-by-mouth, as it were.

The other option is a total laryngectomy: this gets rid of my cancer completely, but my voice goes with it. The upside is I retain the ability to eat and swallow. But my voice would be artificial.

So that’s it: the devil and the deep blue sea.

When I set out on this journey I thought it was a battle to keep my voice at all cost because of the job I do. Now I’m not so sure.

But life keeps on turning. We were at the christening of my great nephew Jasper Cole Jones (son of my nephew and former Chronicle reporter Lewis Jones). Glenn, father of Lewis’s wife Ashley, was going into hospital the same day as me to have a hip replacement.

We wished each other well. I asked him to do a jig for old times sake. He asked me to say something profound, just in case...

Keep smiling!