The Scan

It's now two and a half years since my major surgery and my next scan is imminent. I have a CT scan every six months for the first three years and then every year until five years have elapsed - at which point the NHS considers you to be cured.

Up to now, all of the scans have shown me to be clear of the disease. So chronologically, I'm nearly halfway there. But in terms of the level of risk I'm over the worst.

Two and a half years ago I found out I had a high risk of recurrence of the disease. After the tumour is removed from your body they do a laboratory analysis of it and make a prognosis. I was then told I had a 30% chance of dying.

Obviously this is very tough knowledge to assimilate. Learning to live with such a huge threat is an enormous problem. There is big dark cloud across your sky every day. And the long nights are the worst. At that time I was still in a lot of pain from my major surgery. My world seemed to revolve around the hospital and GP's - I was still very much a patient.

After a year or so I began to find some light inbetween the darkness. I learned to live more in the here and now. With my prognosis that seemed the only real place to be. But I was still being assessed for follow-up surgery and whenever a scan became due the darkness would roll in and cover my sky again (particularly when I was waiting for the results).

Over the past year there has been much more light than dark. I'm not going to have follow-up surgery and I've stopped seeing myself as a patient. I've become able to do all the things I used to do before I was ill, including cycling and hillwalking. I've also embarked on a new relationship, which is going very well. In short, I'm feeling fully recovered.

Recently I had a meeting with a urology consultant who told me that recurrences of the disease would normally be seen within the first two years. After that the level of risk decreases steeply towards five years, at which point I would have a 2% risk of dying from the disease.

On the face of it, this is reassuring. But if you happen to be one of the unfortunates in whom the disease recurs, statistics don't really matter.

So I'm waiting for the letter from the hospital to come through the door and tell me the date of the scan. It should arrive soon. I can feel my anxiety rising. As I've become more fully alive, it feels like I've much more to lose.