From arrest to rest

A necessary situation

To think it was exactly two months ago that I walked into the Christie Hospital to begin 20 sessions of hypofractionated radiotherapy to treat malignant prostate cancer.

Until then, I felt nothing apart from what the blood work told us that further investigation revealed. I could have had a year totally oblivious of a growth in a delicate part of my anatomy that could be a cause of serious illness and death.

All through treatment that happened over 4 weeks of weekdays, I barely slowed down activity, though, as fatigue and other issues took hold, I made adjustments.

A betraying voice

This was brought home to me when I attended a conference having apologised for my low energy levels affecting the strength of my voice. Most listeners would have wondered why a sick man is pushing himself so hard. One sought out the management to raise their concerns.

I preferred to have some occupation rather than a distraction; I was accommodated even as others suggested I take time off.

The voice rarely improved; it bears the hallmarks of extreme exhaustion, yet, it is my voice, my tool of expression, slightly battered by resonant. Let me not suggest that it is indefatigable because fatigue has a role in moderating the sound.

Giving due consideration

Radiotherapy is painless and by that reckoning may seem harmless too. The havoc it has wreaked on my waterworks is one I hope to put behind me, along with the urgency that hits me when I need to map a route that offers immediate use of conveniences or sit at home.

The other consideration is finding the strength to do the simple things. It is five weeks since the end of treatment. The cancer is blasted but the body is far from a good state of recovery.

The decision to embark on a journey for the opportunity to access love and care was attacked from many quarters as much as others saw the need for it.

I made a determination after realising I needed to give myself both the time and the rest to recover, not sitting alone in cold Manchester but in the warmth of Cape Town with Brian.

Accepting my vulnerability

The discomfort of being carted around airports in a wheelchair in the knowledge that I truly am not fit enough to do the things I did without concern, before September is that independent streak denying my vulnerability.

However, I know how having a Radar key to access disabled toilets has prevented me from wetting myself the many times I have been out. This is all temporary.

I will get better, fully regain my strength and vigour, and then receive the all-clear assessment in April. What I need to tell myself is I need both the time and the rest to get well. Without that, I arrest my recovery.