Rehabilitation after cancer treatment is: “a process of regaining and refreshing old skills, learning and refining new ones to enable you to live the sort of life you want,” according to Dr Harvey. I knew what life I wanted. I WANTED MY OLD LIFE BACK.

It was going to take time. One big milestone was tucking into toast and marmalade. I hadn’t been able to eat toast – or bread of any type – for many months. It tasted scrumptious!

I was going to the gym twice a week (paid for by the NHS for the first 3 months). Using the weight machines was fine, but spending 30 minutes walking on a treadmill was extremely tedious. I decided the 10 minute walk from the tram stop counted as exercise, and cut the dreaded treadmill down to 20 minutes.

In between going to the gym, I began going for longer walks. Was soon doing my regular 3 mile circuit around our local nature reserve and along the banks of a meandering River Mersey.

My follow-up scan was due at the beginning of March. During February, I simply concentrated on living each day and not looking more than a week ahead – so it was a shock when we reached the 29th February (yay, a bonus day!) and I suddenly realised my scan was due in two days time!

The scan itself was easy, but the next important procedure was at the end of March – an endoscopy to look at the cancer site and see what difference the treatment had made, if any. After this, I had an appointment with my oncologist at the end of April to discuss the results.

Well, whatever disappointing news April might bring, I was determined to enjoy March.

On the 10th March, Mother’s Day, my three beautiful daughters took me for a spa day. We enjoyed a circular walk in the morning, with brunch in a cafe midway round…

… followed by an afternoon of wonderful massages. We ended the day by floating in the warm waters of the spa. The day was only marred because somebody in the changing rooms pinched my new swimsuit – by mistake, I’m sure.

I felt very well, and remained cautiously optimistic about the future. At the very least, the treatment had bought me another spring – my favourite season – and a few more months of time to spend with my family and friends. Funnily enough, I felt no desire to find out the results of my scan… deciding ignorance was better than knowing the worst.

Walking through our local park, I noticed how one old tree had managed to cope with the nearby metal railing that was biting into its trunk. As it grew larger, the tree had simply incorporated the metal work within its bark. It was wounded, but undefeated.

Returning to Dr Peter Harvey’s words again: “the diagnosis of cancer can never be forgotten. Whatever your prognosis, whatever your hopes, whatever your personality, the second that you know that you have cancer your life changes irrevocably.“

I identified with the wounded tree. Cancer – and its punishing treatment – had bitten into my body and changed me physically, and emotionally, forever. I had new abdominal scars, strange little tattoos, and in all likelihood would never eat normally again. But I was still here!

Having missed the Christmas lights at Dunham Massey, I made a trip to the stately home to walk in the grounds and enjoy the early-blooming flowers in the gardens. Realised I had never seen the house in daylight before – and the gardens were beautiful. Loved this huge magnolia tree.

For the rest of March, I was busy catching up with all the “life admin” that I had put on hold during treatment. I had a routine mammogram (results were normal) and saw the dentist. Had an eye check and new reading glasses. Took my car in for an MOT and service. Got the zip on my little old backpack mended.

The seamstress raised her eyebrows when she saw my backpack, probably wondering why I bothered spending money repairing it when buying a new one would be cheaper. But I’d purchased that little green bag when I first started my walking adventure and, if I ever finished my coastal walk, I wanted it to be there at the end too.

Back on Anglesey, I visited one of my favourite places. Ynys Llanddwyn. A place that feels very spiritual and special to me.

Returning to Manchester, I began walking the Greater Manchester Ringway, a 200 mile circuit of Manchester that makes use of footpaths, cycle tracks and bridleways. The first section began along the canals of central Manchester.

I could now walk 7 miles at a stretch, although I still felt tired and needed frequent breaks en route.

Easter came and the family visited. My eldest granddaughter made chocolate easter-egg nests. Messy business.

Disappointingly, my endoscopy appointment, due at the end of March, was cancelled. Because of the sedation I would need someone to look after me for 24 hours, so I had arranged for a friend to stay. Now, all those arrangements had to be cancelled. I was given a second date, which was cancelled almost immediately, and then a third appointment for the end of April.

I decided to treat the delay as a reprieve. Having enjoyed February and March, I could now enjoy April too. I made the spur of the moment decision to visit a yoga / health retreat in Spain. I had been there several times before and, although I knew I would not be able to join in many of the physical activities, I would be fed a healthy vegan diet and be in good company.

Tears filled my eyes when the plane touched down at Alicante airport. Never thought I would fly again, and certainly didn’t think I would ever get back to Spain. Weather was gorgeous.

Prior to leaving, I had discovered one of the many downsides of a cancer diagnosis. Health insurance for the week in Spain would have cost nearly £1,000 – just for the week!! And the insurance wouldn’t cover me for cancer-related problems either. So, I got myself a UK Global Health Insurance Card (details here) and didn’t bother with insurance.

I had a wonderful time, despite the fact that the end of my stay was marred by dust blowing in from the Sahara. It made the air gritty and obscured the views.

Back in Anglesey, a friend came to stay. She had endured a recent family tragedy, and I took her to visit Ynys Llanddwyn, hoping she would experience the same spiritual lift the island always gave me. Sadly, she didn’t seem too impressed with the place. I had completely forgotten that I had brought her here before! Blamed it on my “chemo brain”.

Back in Manchester, my walking continued. I completed two more sections of the Greater Manchester Ringway. And took time to visit the local nature reserve and my favourite tree.

One of the reasons I love this tree is because it is so very contrary. It’s a white oak, but has leaves that turn russet/gold like a beech, and the leaves stay on their branches all winter. Then, in spring, when all the trees around are bursting into life, the oak drops its leaves and remains resolutely bare of foliage.

Eldest daughter celebrated her 39th birthday. How did my baby get so OLD!? I took granddaughter to the supermarket and we bought a chocolate cake and packets of extra decorations to add to the top. We managed to get most of the decoration on the cake, although some got eaten along the way.

It was nearly the end of April, and time for my long-anticipated appointment with the oncologist. My swallowing had actually got worse over the month of April, so I was expecting the cancer would still be there.

The oncologist was disappointed I hadn’t had my endoscopy yet. Apparently, the endoscopy and biopsies were the really important tests of whether the treatment had worked. But what about my scan results? She explained the tumour area was too scarred from the radiotherapy to show anything clearly on the scan, but the good news was that I had no signs of the cancer having spread elsewhere. My lungs and abdomen remained clear.

A couple of days later, my brother came up from Northampton to look after me while I had the endoscopy. I slept all the way through the procedure, and went home with a handout from the nurses. I thought the handout was about post-op care, and I didn’t bother to read it until the following day. It was actually a full report of the endoscopist’s findings.

“Radiation-induced stricture in the oesophagus.” No sign of cancer!

Now, all I had to do was wait for the results of the biopsies. I steeled myself for bad news. It was probably lurking invisibly, just below the surface. But, the endoscopist phoned me at home a few days later. The biopsies were normal. She could do another procedure to improve my swallowing, if I wanted it.

The biopsies were clear! I was cancer free.

No cancer. I had a future. Although I didn’t know how long I would stay clear of cancer, I could look further than a week or two ahead. I could make plans again.

I had already decided I need to sell my home in Anglesey. Although I loved the place, my property was a windmill and it took a lot of maintenance. The living quarters were spread over four floors, linked by a winding staircase. The views were magnificent. But, it was not a place for a doddery old woman to spend the last few years of her life.

So, I went looking for an alternative home, and fell in love with a cottage on the slopes of the Great Orme above Llandudno. The views were nearly as good as from my windmill.

Sadly, the cottage turned out to have severe damp problems and a touch of woodworm too. So, I abandoned that idea.

Meanwhile, back in Manchester, I went to see a chiropodist and got my feet filed, scraped and massaged into decent shape, got out my newly-repaired backpack, and took the van to the car wash to remove a year’s layer of dust and moss.

It was time to plan a trip up to Scotland. Time to resume my coastal walk.

[To be continued…]

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