I was right about my radiotherapy “wound” taking 6 weeks to heal. In fact, my ability to eat had become dramatically better at around 5 weeks. And now my fitness began to improve too.

So, I began going for longer walks. First just round the block, then round two blocks, then down the road to the nearest park. What a delight to see the cheerful yellow of crocuses in the park. At one point, I thought I would never live to see the spring. Now, spring was springing.

I had already started doing some cautious Tai Chi exercises – exercises which I have done fairly regularly every morning for many years. And, I had my official rehabilitation fitness assessment at the end of January. It was terrifying to see how much fitness I had lost over the course of the treatment.

As part of the post-treatment cancer service in Manchester, you get free enrollment in a gym, with supervised gym sessions for three months. I decided to go regularly, twice a week.

But, in order to drive to the gym, I had to get my car started. The battery had gone flat over the autumn and winter months while I had been housebound! The battery was beyond salvaging, but the local garage responded quickly and put a new one in for me.

One bright day, I walked to the local nature reserve, and took a selfie to send to my daughters. Look at me go! And how wonderful to see my face had lost the horrible puffiness and pallor of my chemo-days.

A visit to my favourite tree, and I was reminded of why it is my favourite. When I first saw it (in the spring about 5 years ago), I assumed it was a beech tree because of the copper-coloured leaves. Only when I got closer did I realise it wasn’t a beech after all. It was an oak.

I enjoyed going to the gym twice a week, but my exercise was hampered by the RIG tube, which was still in place and still sticking out from my stomach. The specialist nurse told me that after 2 weeks of normal eating I could have the tube removed. I found the prospect mildly terrifying. Athough I hated the thing, it had kept me alive. What if my eating deteriorated again?

Worryingly, I still had the occasional episode when food got stuck. (It happened when I tried a keema curry.) But I was now eating solid food cautiously. I could even eat bacon and eggs!

On the 12th of February, I went to the Christie and they removed the RIG tube. It was surprisingly easy. They simply let down the balloon and pulled it out. The channel should heal quickly, I was told, but wait for 2 hours and then try sips of water to see if it leaks. It did leak… for six long, thirsty hours… before finally sealing itself up.

I began taking my daughter’s dog out for short walks. I had been reluctant to spend time with her during the height of my treament, because she is a lively little spaniel and needs a lot of attention. But, she seemed to sense I was unwell, and was unusually quiet and gentle with me.

Keen to go back to Anglesey, I felt well enough to make the drive, but nervous about being alone. So I took the dog with me. Ridiculous, I know, because what could a dog possibly do to help if I became unwell, had a fall, or generally ran into trouble? Absolutely nothing, of course, but I felt better just having her there.

Anglesey was beautiful. I went for a walk on my local beach in the pale spring sunshine, and found myself close to tears. I was so glad to be back.

On my return to Manchester, I restarted my gym sessions. I had been driving to the gym, but I started taking the tram, which involved a walk of 1/2 mile at the other end, and so the walk could be part of my fitness programme too.

As I waited for the tram on that first morning, I felt almost tearful – again – just to be doing something as normal as catching a tram.

The previous month, a kind lady called Margaret Wyatt had sent me an article about recovery, based on a talk given by a clinical psychologist, Dr Peter Harvey. I found it very helpful.

In the article, Dr Harvey says, “One of the many paradoxes of cancer is that, more often than not, the treatment makes you feel worse.” This rang very true. Apart from mild symptoms I really felt quite well before I started treatment – I had been walking 10 miles a day in Scotland in May, and cycling the 10 miles to the start of each walk too. But, after treatment, I could barely stand up!

He goes on to describe how the recovery process could be divided into three phases: recuperation, convalescence and rehabilitation. And you have to pass through each stage. I decided I was now in the convalescent stage, which he explained was not sitting around in a bath chair with a rug, but the true meaning of convalescence comes from its Latin root ‘to grow strong’.

My recovery seemed painfully slow to me, but there was no doubt I was making progress. I was in the process of growing stronger.

[To be continued…]

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Your can find Dr Peter Harvey’s article here: After the treatment finishes… [pdf]

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