Only when I laugh

IN good spirits . . . David with his lucky mascot after his operation

Chronicle managing editor continues to Chronicle his battle with throat cancer in this award-winning series. On Friday, he underwent complicated surgery at Manchester Royal Infirmary.

WELL, nobody said five and a half hours of surgery was easy - but hey, for Professor Jarrod Homer, the supracricoid partial laryngectomy with cricohyoidepiglottope-xy was a walk in the park.

All went to plan, he reported in a phone call to anxious family members waiting for news.

I really didn’t know anything about Friday night, apart from being wakened every couple of hours for tests. Welcome to the world of the High Dependency Unit....

It had been a case of beers, cheers and tears as we waved good riddance to 2014 and looked forward to what we are hoping will be a much improved 2015.

We had been fortunate to get the go-ahead from cancer specialist Professor Homer to board our Boxing Day flight to Egypt.

Wendy has certainly had a lot to put up with over the last eight months and it was great to see her chilling in the glorious 80F sunshine and the waiters on hand to supply drinks to order.

I was dutiful in making a real sacrifice to go with my pal, Mike, and play golf at current Egyptian course of the year Matadi Makadi. Visually stunning, long, tough and made tougher in the strong warm wind. But this was serious business and we were up to the challenge.

Of course, it was all about the taking part but to win on the deciding third day by playing under my 11 handicap was gratifying, even if the trophy the girls made from a small Egyptian perfume bottle and a piece of ribbon did not exactly measure up to those being played for on the European Tour’s desert swing. But I was a desert winner.

While there I also got the opportunity to try snorkelling, and was amazed by the colours of the coral and the proximity of the fish below the surface. Got in a bit of trouble when I posted a picture on Facebook of myself in the snorkel mask and suggested Wendy was getting me to practise breathing through a tube!

At least those who know me well saw the funny side.

We toasted the New Year in style looking out over the Red Sea, but flying home I had that feeling that we were on the final approach to this most life-saving and life-changing of operations.

We heard you had snow back home in Oldham just after we left (oh how we toasted that news!) and that made me think of the professor tearing up the slopes on his New Year break . . . just so long as he was coming back in one piece. There was plenty of work to be done before I could think about putting my feet up in MRI, and a trip to Guernsey to look at a potential new editorial computer system in situ at the island’s daily newspaper, the Press, meant I was back on a plane — though this time a small one with propellers rather than a jet. Eventful.

I found it somewhat ironic that, after a full day seeing the Guernsey Press team in action, we went out for a meal only to find that our hosts had booked us into a seafront restaurant . . . called Christies!

Well, I won’t be eating much food for a while, but once I am if the stuff they give me through my new feed tube is on a par with the sea bass I had at St Peter’s Port I will be suitably impressed.

Friends and family have been the bedrock on this journey and it was important to get to see as many as possible as the clock ticked down.

It made for a mad last weekend with a fantastic night in Leeds which encompassed an encounter with a quite remarkable card magician called Magic Al, and a lot of cocktails (I was designated driver), and a crazy night at The Old Bill that went on into the small hours in the downstairs jazz bar. (I was definitely not the designated driver.)

In for a penny, in for a pound, we called to see more friends in the local and the tough school that is the Sunday Club had them suggesting they got me a bell so that once out of hospital while I had no voice, I could get Wendy‘s assistance.

Mrs W was less than impressed. If the bell arrives, one might suggest I could well have to do a spot of twerking to make it ring!

Goodbyes in these situations are both alcohol and emotion-fuelled, and when big, hard men cry I find it very humbling that people really do care.

Tender

Come midweek I said my temporary farewells to staff at the Chronicle and know that they will be beavering away getting your newspaper out to you five nights a week while I am taking it easy at MRI.

I have written the lion’s share of this article while at the hospital. We arrived at 8am and by late afternoon they had fitted the feeding tube in my stomach for use post the big op on Friday. Tender but a necessity.

I will, if all goes well, be in the High Dependency Unit as you read this. I plan to bring you further bulletins once back on the normal ward.

Thanks for all the good wishes from readers — I even had a letter from down south from a grammar school alumni. (Is it really 40 years since I was the Artful Dodger to his Fagin?)

I hope 2015 really is good for all of us.



NEXT WEEK: So you think you have it tough at work! Keep Smiling!






So proud of my dad

David’s son Stefan on the journey so far

SINCE this journey started last year, so much has happened.

The support we have had as a family has been amazing.

“Keep Smiling” started out just as a family saying but has become so much more than a way of supporting one another.

The name of an award-winning series of articles has helped raise awareness of throat cancer and Christie’s — and we even had those words on a bauble on our Christmas tree!

I’ll never forget the days I found out two pieces of news.

I got a call from my dad one morning before I headed off to a lecture and was just so shocked. The word cancer just made me freeze — as I am sure it does for other sufferers and their families.

It was the last thing I expected and it was a strange feeling of anger, fear, confusion and surprise. For someone who has never smoked it just seemed unfair.

The second piece of news was the first all-clear (although it turned out to be false). I was out in America working at a summer camp and it felt like a huge weight had been lifted.

All through the process, though, my dad has been treated by some amazing people. The fact he was able to continue work and play golf was really important. The cancer never had control of him, the never let it get on top of him and get in the way. The latest procedure, which is hopefully the first step on the final leg of the journey, is phenomenal — going from choosing between two equally difficult options regarding losing his speech or the ability to eat, and then the idea of actually being back to full strength after 12 months. The emotions were amazing.

No doubt it is going to be a very tough 12 months for the family, especially dad himself, but I’m proud of the way he has tackled this and can’t thank the people who have treated him and supported him enough.