Today I'm hale and hearty, a little overweight and very glad to be here. I and my best beloved have six grandchildren, the oldest about to finish an apprenticeship, the youngest just one year old. We see them all often. Life is good and we'll celebrate our golden wedding later this year.
If you're reading this because you've been following my story you'll have heard about the damage that chemo did to nerves in my feet and to a certain extent in my fingers. Well, I was thinking the other day that I can't be sure that some recovery hasn't taken place. Put it this way, my feet feel normal now. Maybe I've just got used to it. Apart from that (it's called peripheral neuropathy by the way), I think I'm much as I was before the whole adventure started. I still get a bit short of breath walking uphill, but then at my age (approaching 70 fast now) that's hardly surprising and it's no different to how I was before my brush with cancer.
I posted here some years ago ago an x-ray image of my chest, at my last check-up I think it was, My right remaining lung lobe did its best to fill the void, and my diaphragm was moving up. I suspect it moved even further, because these days I can't help feeling that my oesophagus is probably veering slightly to my right (because it can!) So I looked the image out the other day and it rather confirms the feeling I have when I eat.. Fascinating isn't it?
Isn't science just wonderful! The fact that my surgeon could reach inside and cut away the bad bit, stitch me up, and here I am eight years later.
And talking of eight, a good friend of mine, introducing me to someone the other day and telling of my little excursion into the realms of lung cancer, recounted how I'd only had an 8% chance of survival. That was news to me, but my friend was a nurse, so she obviously knew what she was talking about. I was gobsmacked. I knew my chances were small but at least I thought it was 10%! It's unbelievable that I'm still here and I'm so grateful that I am.
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