Pre-treatment

5-Hannibal Wozzer

16th April 2020

So this is the start of the preliminary work, before treatment begins in around a month. I’ll be provided with a full schedule of treatment days when I have my mask fitted next week. For now it’s just a couple of x-rays.

Well, one x-ray for teeth and jaw. That was normal.

The MRI was a bit different to what I expected. Not that I knew what to expect…

MRI stands for magnetic resonance imaging and it uses magnetism to build up a picture of whichever part of the body requires errr, imaging.

For head and neck images, one has to be perfectly still. They make sure of that, by literally clamping one’s head in a plastic frame which is then clamped shut. As shown in the photo – just like Hannibal Lecter.

Oh – that’s a stock photo by the way, not quite my profile – yet 😉

Well, it’s painless for sure. But noisy – much more than I expected for such a high-tech piece of kit. I spent around 10 minutes sliding back and forth, while it was clanking and whirring.

Then slide out for an injection of ‘contrast’ dye to be added to by vein, ready for a repeat episode of noise.

I mean, no drama about it – but definitely much more than anything I’ve experienced medically.

Seems this cancer stuff is the real deal…

4-Day of Truth

14th April 2020

We should have been waking up in Prague, hung over after being out on Samros’ birthday on 13th, with a great workmate from a few years ago, when we were in Cambodia. Anna now lives back in Prague. We had this booked since last October, but of course that was all kaiboshed by the coronavirus.

Just as well – in a way…

So it’s a sunny morning in Gloucester instead, the day after Easter Monday and just 7 days since I had the Biopsy.

My phone rings around 8.30am. It’s the hospital – my results are in and could I come to a meeting at 11.30 that same morning. ‘Yes of course’ says I. Been thinking of nothing else for a week.

I meet the consultant surgeon who performed the Biopsy – Mr Wheatley. He has a lovely style about him – considering the news he must deliver. He explains the cancer type in broad detail – a 3cm lump and says that the general treatment is 6 weeks of Radiotherapy at 5 days treatment each week.

He also levels with me and says the CT scan has shown some anomalies on one of my lungs, so he’s arranging an MRI scan to check that further and also a jaw x-ray, which will be needed to ascertain if any work needs to be done to my teeth, prior to the radiology treatment.

This is important, because the teeth and jaws can really be affected by so much build-up of radiation.

He’s already arranged these for me and asap after the results are in, I’ll be back for another high-level meeting with the Oncologist who’ll be taking care of the next phase. But before all of that, a nurse introduces herself to me – Vicky.

Vicky is assigned to me to co-ordinate and be my point of contact for the next phases of my journey. This will be through all pre-treatment, treatment and post treatment episode.

Vicky is the Lead Head and Neck nurse specialist and is also a Macmillan Nurse.

Between Mr Wheatley and Nurse Vicky, I’m beginning to become quite humbled at the care and attention that has been planned for even this first diagnosis meeting. I leave the consultant and Vicky has an armful of RELEVANT information for me – all produced by Macmillan… A booklet specifically about Head and Neck Cancers, a contact for specialist benefits claims for cancer patients and a hospital contact who will discuss my holistic care throughout.

But right now, there’s only one thought on my mind, how on earth do I tell family, starting with Samros, who’s patiently waiting for me at home. Well we did know I suppose, even though we didn’t know until we knew.

And that just about explains the jumbled-up feeling. We had a few tears and talked it through. I’m sure this is beatable, but just the very word ‘Cancer’ is so, so emotive.

Then of course it’s time to break the news to family – my brothers in London, then my mum, then got my 3 grown kids and I together on a group video call.

I didn’t hold back and told it as I understood it – which on that day was really just a bit abstract to me. I explain that this might not be an aggressive cancer and has a good rate of recovery. Also, I didn’t have all the details yet, that would come after the MRI and next discussion with the Oncologist.

I think that allowed me to drip feed the extent over a week or so and looking back, gave us all time to absorb what has happened. And a lot had happened in just two weeks, so far.

3-Days of waiting

6th April 2020
It’s only a few minutes walk for me to the May Hill Unit at GRH. I’m there early (as ever) for my 7.30am appointment.

It’s Biopsy day and I’m in for a simple procedure to extract a piece of tonsil mass for analysis. It might be simple, but it’s carried out under a general anaesthetic. Maybe 30 minutes in the operating theatre, another 30 minutes in recovery area and then taken back to May Hill Unit to be cared for by the delightful staff.

Vital signs are monitored for pulse, oxygen level and blood pressure. I’m a but low on all, so they’re keeping me a few more hours until things pick up. At one point my pulse was 48 beats per minute.

‘That’s about the BPM as Linford Christie’, says nurse Vikki. ‘Yeah, we’re much the same’, says I.
That got a laugh – dunno why 😉

Horizontal selfie

I was much improved after a few cups of tea and biscuits and walked home mid-afternoon.

 

7th April 2020
I’m at GRH again, but this time for my scan. I’ve been booked for a full-body computerised tomography CT Scan (or CAT scan). It combines x-rays and computing power to create quite detailed images of the inside of one’s body.

The machine has the look of a huge doughnut and I lay on a sliding bed passing through it a few times, backwards and forwards, for around 15 minutes.

That’s it, no noise, no feeling and ready to go home.

Just got to wait for the results…

2-Let the examinations begin…

It’s April Fool’s Day, but I’m not ready for any jokes this morning. Spent some of the past 24 hours googling all sorts of stuff relating to Throat cancer – and the most it taught me is to ignore 95% of what’s online!

I’m on time for my 11.00am appointment with the ENT doctor. He and his nurse apologise for being in full NHS protective equipment – complete with visors. They assure me it’s not because of me personally. The doctor has a very personable manner as he takes notes.

‘Now this isn’t as bad as it looks’ he says – holding a long thin flexible tube with a light on it. Oh really, says I who has a pain threshold of zero. And really it didn’t hurt as he fed the instrument up my nostril. Just needed to contain the feeling of sneezing!

Nasendoscopy Procedure
Image courtesy of Macmillan Cancer Support

The procedure is delightfully named Nasendoscopy and it really is quite painless. Actually it’s pretty cool to see up the inside of one’s nostril and all around the throat. Everything is seen on a full-colour monitor. All looked fine to me!

The doctor wasn’t so sure though. ‘There’s something on your tonsil bed that I don’t like the look of. You’ll need a CT scan and a Biopsy asap’, he says. We look at each other – I don’t want to say it and nor does he. But I need to know and ask the question that no one ever wants to ask.

Do I have cancer?

The doctor’s very professional – he won’t commit 100%, but he’s knowledgable enough – and we’re both grown up, for him to say that it’s likely, but of course lets be sure with some results.

I’m given an appointment for the following week for both the biopsy and CT scan. I decide that I discuss the possibility with Samros, my wife – but no one else until we’re sure.

Again there’s no hospital delay for me, even with the ever growing virus problem, so we wait a week without really discussing this in depth.

But one just gets that feeling…

1-Never mind this corona virus stuff…

31st March 2020

Just about a week into the UK lockdown, and already an addict – of Amazon Prime, BBC4, all News channels and even a subscription to Disney +

The lunchtime news was reporting prior day cases had risen to over 22,000 cases and it was increasing at around 3000 cases per day. Serious stuff and admissions starting to rise exponentially. Hospitals were coming under extreme pressure for equipment, ventilators and in many locations – beds.

I’d been experiencing some odd moments while eating for a few weeks – nothing serious, just food getting caught in the gullet and causing a slight coughing fit. Anyway this lunchtime the coughing brought up a quantity of blood…

So it was not with total embarrassment (but close), that I went to the A&E reception at Gloucestershire Royal Hospital (GRH) and wondered if someone could have a look at my sore throat 😉

 

As busy as they were, it didn’t take long for a doctor to come and see me. I explained what happened and out came the lolly stick. Say ahhhhh…

It only took one look and then she said ‘ah – I’d better get you up to ENT for a better check with a specialist’. ‘Can you come tomorrow morning’?

Next day appointment, with all this virus going on?

That got me thinking…