Anyhow, my immune system seemed to have coped so I’m back in Harefield and I’m saying hello to all my friends at the hospital, including the ward doctors and nurses, the hospital porter, the CT scanning staff and finally the anaesthetist, as he serves me one of his gin and tonic injections.

Then I’m slurring hello to Dr Dalal and my smiling wife. Always good to see Sophie when I come around; provides a comfort blanket and always cheers me up. Dr Dalal is also smiling as he tells me he got the rest of the nodules. There were 10 in total; 2 had revealed themselves while he was taking pictures. This is great news, outstanding news. 28 nodules gone, leaving my lungs heavily scarred, but visibly cancer free.

There is no space in the High Dependency Unit, so I get to stay in the Recovery Room all night. Me, a lovely nurse, and the morphine drip. What more do I need?

I recover well, less morphine means less vomiting. All that’s on my mind is having my pelvis and abdomen scanned to see if the cancer has returned. This is a bit of a favour since technically its my oncologist’s jurisdiction. I get the scan, and it’s all good. I’m visibly cancer free. Objective achieved. Milestone reached. I’m happy, sort of happy. When you’re stage 4 it’s really hard to ever allow yourself real joy when it comes to your cancer. Stage 4 means its in my blood and the likelihood is that it will always find a way to take a hold somewhere.

Onwards and Upwards

So i am happy for today, for reaching this moment, and I will count my blessings. I will also go out and raise a glass of bubbly with Sophie in celebration

And so, I head into the Christmas period feeling very reflective; grateful for the relatively good fortune but apprehensive for the immediate future, and the remaining uncertainty my life represents.

I have lots of aspirations for 2020, but my plans don’t go beyond 7th January; scan time!