Keeping chipper for others in the woods

Reporter: David Whaley
Date published: 18 March 2015


The Chronicle’s managing editor continues his saga on throat cancer treatment and recovery

WHEN I started writing this feature all those months ago I hoped it might just help others walking a similar path.

Little did I know that only eight weeks after my operation, I would be meeting the next person going under the knife for the complex, life-saving surgery.

Wendy and me were due to meet with the professor and speech therapist Frances, but she asked us to get there early.

Without realisingm we had met the couple two weeks before, sitting outside the professor’s consulting room. Wendy and I were laughing about something trivial and the couple were shuffling nervously.

As I left the room after my (previously reported) successful swallow test, they were called as we skipped happily away.

As it turned out, Bill and wife Bev were receiving confirmation his operation was booked. So Prof Homer and Frances thought it would be a good idea for them to meet us We agreed instantly, of course - we had the benefit of meeting Nick, a recipient of the same op four years before and a genuine inspiration for me.

Bill saw his early treatment days through rose-coloured glasses, and Frances felt my continuing recovery would make any advice very real. So we shook hands Frances asked a few questions that got us talking about what had just happened to me - and what was about to happen for Bill.

Our paths were similar and yet so different. We had both had radiotherapy and found laser surgery unsuitable, hence the need for Professor Homer’s expertise.

The difference was that while my story packs itself inside a year, it was a full three years post-radiotherapy that Bill found his cancer had returned.

So we talked. There were questions about the high dependancy unit, the pain (none in the neck in my case) and the scars (I showed him mine!).

Bev was interested in the feeding tube, and I lifted my shirt to show her where on the front of my stomach it entered. We showed them a bottle of the feed in question.

We laughed about me writing daily messages for visitors in the early days, when I could not talk at all.

We told him to listen to the experts: they have done this many times and it’s important to follow their advice and not push too hard too soon.

As my deputy Bob Young back at the Chronicle office put it: better small steps forward than a giant leap and fall back. Very true.

About 24 hours after that meeting, Bill would be admitted for the food-tube fitting and two days after that he was to undergo the operation.

We gave them our details and once Bill is settled on the ward, I’m going to see him. It will be a chance to catch up with some of the amazing nurses who cared for me so well too.

My recovery is improving by the week. A swift camera inspection (I do so look forward to them!) satisfied the prof that all was ticking along nicely - so much so that my next check-up is in five weeks rather than two.

The prof thinks my coughing problems could be associated with not swallowing saliva as efficiently as food. It is certainly causing some problems in the night. Must programme the brain to gulp when asleep!

The following day we had a visit from dietician Roisin, who was pleased I am managing to exercise and increase my weight at the same time. She cut my feed tube intake and hopefully it will be redundant in the coming weeks.

Roisin suggested I snack on high-calorie foods. I was OK with cheese on toast, but chocolate-coated digestives are a step too far just now.

Main meals are now anything that has a sauce or gravy and I climbed, metaphorically, my daughter’s pie and chips mountain when I attacked a full plate of pudding, chips, peas and gravy. Woo hoo!

The exercise has moved up a gear. I am continuing with the exercise bike (I’m half way to my 452km goal of St Andrews and recently crossed the Scottish border). And I have been increasing the number of holes of golf I can manage: at the weekend (eight weeks and a day after op) I did my first full 18.

The score mattered not. I was so chuffed I went out very early on Sunday morning and did it again. Weary, yes, but I did it.

Now we nervously await news of Bill and Bev. He’s a battler. He’ll be fine.

KEEP SMILING