About 4 weeks after the last operation, Kathy and I went to see Mr W and I was given the sign off as far as these procedures were concerned. I was to have a check-up every 3 months for the next 3 years and then 6 monthly check ups for the following 2 years. All standard procedure. The check-ups would alternate between Mr W and Dr P who was the oncologist I’d been assigned to. When Mr W mentioned about Dr P being my oncologist, Kathy let out a small groan. It was as if being told I had my own oncologist suddenly made everything hit home, despite the fact that this current process was now finished. I suppose that having your own oncologist is never really something that you aspire to have but he’s meant to be one of the best in the region so it’s reassuring to be under his care.

The sign off meeting with Mr W was a strange thing really. I had expected it to be a really positive meeting and something of a watershed moment. But it wasn’t. It was good to have this episode put to bed but it just doesn’t feel like the end to me. There was no big handshake from Mr W, no congratulatory pat on the back to say, “We’ve beaten it. Well done us!” There was just the confirmation that he’d see me in three months to check it hadn’t returned. I told you earlier that he was very matter of fact.

It feels very much that this is just a pause in the journey that I’m now on, rather than the end of  things. I don’t mean that to sound in any way attention seeking or negative, it’s just how I feel. I think it’s probably down to the nature of melanoma itself. Never being told you’ve beaten it as you can do with other types of cancer, with the best case scenario of NED feels like the door is always slightly ajar. The nature of the disease means that the experts, with all their intelligence, scanning machines, tests and procedures aren’t ever confident enough to put their neck on the line and say you had melanoma but we’ve dealt with it, it’s over and you’re clear. It’s a difficult thing to deal with. It’s a cloud that always hangs over you to one degree or another. How much depends very much on my state of mind that day. If the glass is half full then it’s all in the past. There’s no evidence of any disease in me and I’m all good. If the glass is half empty then we’re just waiting for it to reappear, when, not if and we’ll then start the next battle.

Don’t get me wrong in any of this, I have many more glass half full days than glass half empty, but the glass will never be full up again.