The Sudden Change in My Life

I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO STACEY, MY DAUGHTER & GRANDMA & AUNT PAT (who recently died of cancer)

It was an October day in 1990. It was a Sunday. Sundays were then the highlight of my week because Sunday was football day. I was 25 and had played football for a number of years in the Sussex league. Now I was playing for Eastside Rangers, a local football team in the Sussex County Sunday league. Every week we would meet at a pub in Peacehaven, near Brighton, where I have lived for nearly 5 years.

Half the lads would be still half drunk from the night before. There were a lot of bad heads and that was before we had even played. The lads were a great bunch, though I only knew one really well, that was Dave (Mickey to his team mates). Dave and I used to work together at an engineering company in Newhaven.

On this particular Sunday the match was a cup game against a higher division team. Generally most players are more intense with this sort of match because of the chance of upsetting a better team. I used to work as a club bouncer and was known as the hard man of the team. I was always fair, never dirty – just hard. Now and again the opposition did not like being tackled so hard and there were always a few altercations. These never lasted very long.

The first half was very intense to say the least, the score being 1-1. At half time I told the lads to go out and run them into the ground. We went ahead 2-1, then suddenly something in my mind was telling me to pick the ball up, run down the pitch and kick the ball into the net. It was a strange feeling. I had never had anything like this before. About five minutes later I felt really strange again. I shouted to Dave, saying something was wrong. Then the whole of my right side went as stiff as a board and my eyes rolled. I fell to the ground and started to shake violently. I only felt what was going to happen about ten seconds before, that’s all. I was unconscious for about half an hour. I woke up in the ambulance on the way to Casualty at Brighton Hospital. Apparently Dave put his fingers in my mouth to stop me from swallowing my tongue. Dave said I bit him. Sorry Dave. The referee wanted to move me off the pitch so they could carry on with the match. Never mind, there is always one.

Once the match had finished, the lads came to see me. The first thing I said was, “DID WE WIN?” Apparently they did finish the match, I thought it would be abandoned. We had won 3-1, a great result. Someone joked they had played better without me. Oh eh. The doctor told me I’d probably had a seizure and I should go and see my own doctor. I did not go. Sharon, my wife, came to collect me from the hospital and took me home. As soon as we got through the door she pointed to the chair in the corner and said, “DO NOT MOVE.” My mother-in-law Rita and father-in-law Tim asked me what had happened. I hadn’t a clue. I was so frightened. Straight away Sharon and Rita said that I was not playing next week. I agreed.

The following week the team lost and poor Dave broke his leg very badly. He had a cast on for three months. Even today Dave walks with a limp and is too scared to play football, in case he gets tackled hard again. Dave at the time was probably one of the best players in the team. After the accident he became the manager of the team, which meant he was still in football.

Well, the next Sunday came and as usual we met at the pub at 9.15 am. It was pouring down with rain. As usual, most of the team were suffering from the night before. They all looked as if they could do with another six hours sleep. I wish I could have had a couple of hours myself. I had no sympathy for them as I didn’t drink. As usual it was cold. How on earth did we run around with shorts on every week? But like silly idiots we did. Anyway, we got to the pitches, found out which pitch we were playing on, then went and got changed. Out on the pitch the lads were warming up, as usual they were all tired before the kick off. You’d think they would learn. The team we were playing was top of our division so it was going to be a hard game. Again I got intense and argued with the referee about decisions he was making. If any of our players were taken out badly, I would be there squaring up to whoever had done it.

At half time it was 2-2 which was great. Again, I told the lads we have to beat them in the second half. The problem was convincing them. It was a very physical match. The second half went all the way but we won 4-2, which put us second in our division. We had a chance of winning the division outright. Whilst in the changing room we generally had a laugh if we won. I had finished changing and went back to pay my pitch fee. I turned to go back to where I had been sitting, when out of the blue it started again. Why oh why was this happening to me? I went stiff all down my right-hand side. It was as if I had very bad cramps in all my muscles down that side. Then suddenly I collapsed, hitting the concrete floor. This seizure was like the first one I’d had except I was unconscious for only ten minutes and afterwards I was sick. I’d taken my car to the ground, so this meant someone would have to drive me home in my car. I could only think the cause of the seizure was because I’d got so worked up during the match. I did not think it could be anything else.

I truly believed this was a warning to seek some sort of help. This time I was definitely going to my doctor. I was also having headaches which I never normally suffer from.

On Monday, the day after my second seizure, I made an appoint¬ment with Dr.Etherton. He suggested I go to out-patients in Brighton to see Dr. Nurick who specialised in epilepsy and stroke cases. It took three weeks for an appointment to come through for the early part of November. When I saw Dr.Nurick he asked me to tell him everything about my seizures and said I should have some tests. One was to be a Electrocorticograph (EEG) which would have to be done at Hurstwood Park Neurological Centre in Haywards Heath. The second would be a brain scan in Brighton. Dr.Nurick said the appointments could take a month and I’d have to surrender my driving licence. Well, the first appointment for the EEG came through for December.

Tim, my father-in-law, had to take me to Hurstwood Park because now I could not drive. I was already feeling the effects of not having a licence. Now I was having to rely on others to go anywhere. The hospital looked very old indeed, but once inside you could tell how well-equipped it was.

First I went to the reception, from there I was directed to the department I needed. A nurse met me there, she was quiet and very pretty and asked me to go into the room next to the waiting room. She explained she was going to place probes on my head. Each probe had a small needle inside, so every time she put a probe on my head there was a sharp prick. She must have thought I was a pin cushion! After a while my head went numb. The nurse told me to stay where I was and she would get the other nurse who was doing the test.

I was promptly taken to the test room and told to lie on the bed. All the probes had wires hanging from them and these were fitted to the EEG machine. The test consisted of flashing lights and sounds and took about half an hour. When it had finished I felt very tired and groggy and was taken back to the ‘torture room’ to take off the probes. For this she used a liquid which smelt like very bad-smelling after-shave, which would have kept anybody away! The nurse who had done the test came back and reported the results were fine. I felt very relieved; one down, one to go!

My second appointment came through for the early part of January. The family and I had a very tense time through Christmas, but that year my mum, Wendy, and dad, Trevor, came to stay which certainly helped. The last time I had seen them had been when I stayed with them the year before. Mum couldn’t stay for the New Year but we were invited to our friends’ house. I remember it well. As midnight came I got very emotional and worked up about what was wrong with me. We had to leave and go home. Everybody said they could understand how I was feeling.

The day of the scan came and this time Sharon drove me to the hospital. Whilst waiting I read a leaflet on the waiting room table which explained the scanner cost £250,000, a lot of money for one piece of equipment. The scanner, the only one in a 50-mile radius of Brighton, can scan any part of the human body. It’s used mainly to detect cancers and brain tumours.

I was told it would take about 15 minutes to scan my brain. When I walked into the scanning room I was shocked at the sight of the scanner, it looked like a giant Polo with a bench through it which you lie on. I got onto the bench and the scanner came over the top of my head. The operator spoke to me through a small speaker. It was like talking to the pits whilst driving a car in a race. She told me what was going on. Every time the bench moved another photo was taken. There were 16 pictures taken, each of different parts of my head. Later, looking at the results, you could say it looked like a butcher had sliced my head. The nurse came back and reported the pictures were too dull to see clearly, so I would have to have a dye injected into my arm. The dye would show up the pictures more clearly. When the dye was injected I could taste it. It was horrid and very warm in my mouth. Once again the scanner started to take the pictures. The nurse told me the results would take two weeks.

It was three weeks later when I saw Dr.Nurick who told me I would have to see the surgeon, Mr.Ward, who was one of the top neurological surgeons in the country. As soon as he said that to me I knew something was very wrong.

I did not see Mr.Ward until March. I had to get a friend, Sandra, to take me to the out-patients at Brighton where Mr. Ward told me there was a shadow on the scan. He showed me the pictures. I could see a dark patch on the left frontal part of my head. I was quite surprised they found my brain! Mr. Ward then asked if I had ever banged my head hard. He even asked if my mum had dropped me from a great height when I was small. I think it was his way to say there was something wrong. Mr. Ward then told me I had to have an operation to find what was wrong. The operation would be in about six weeks time.

When I came out of the hospital I broke down crying hysterically. All my emotions from the past six months just exploded from inside of me. I’ve always been one who lets my emotions build up to a. point where they overcome me and this was one of those times. Sandra consoled me all the way home, what could she say, she felt helpless. I said, “How am I going to explain this to Sharon, it’s going to kill her”. Sharon is the type of girl who is very loving and emotional anyway.

When we arrived home, I went straight to the bedroom. Sandra had the horrible job of telling Sharon. As soon as she heard the news she dropped what she was doing and came to me. She was as upset as I was and there was no way either of us could continue working. I stayed in the bedroom most of the day. I just could not face anybody. People were telephoning me for my results but the first person I phoned was my mum. You can guess how she felt. She told me she would come down from Darlington with my sister, Helen, who is two and a half years younger than I and has four children.

The hardest thing would be telling Tim and Rita who were telephoning that evening from the Algarve where they were having a well deserved holiday. I told Sharon and Dean, my brother-in-law, to say the results were clear. The last thing I wanted was for them to pack their bags and come home before the end of their holiday. They both needed the break as they hadn’t had a real holiday for over ten years. I decided we would wait until they were home to tell them, it would be easier that way. It’s not something you can say over the telephone.

Dean picked them up from the airport and when they arrived home we put the kettle on to make a cup of tea. Once that was done, Sharon and I asked them into the lounge, saying we had some-thing to tell them. As soon as we started I broke down and went into the bedroom. I don’t know why, I always went there to cry on the bed. Tim and Rita were, to say so the least, horrified and said, “Oh not again”. They tried to console me and said it could be anything.

In my own mind I had a very good idea what it was, a brain tumour. The reason Tim and Rita had said, ‘Not again’ was because their nephew, Lee, had two brain tumours. He was about eight when he had his first and 11 when he had a second. It was a difficult time for everybody, including me. When the second one appeared I said I would swap places with him anyday as he was going through a lot of pain.

The next hardest thing was telling Lee’s parents. We just did not know how they would react. It could only bring back memories of Lee’s operation and the pain he went through. I wished there was another way to tell them. When Lee heard, he wrote a letter to me saying he wanted me to pull through like he had. I thought if Lee could do it I can do it as well.

Mr. Ward had said my operation would be in about six weeks time but this of course depended on the availability of beds. Hurstwood Park takes in all the head wound cases, from car crashes and accidents, so I knew it would take time.

My appointment came through for 9th June 1991. I had four long weeks to wait and think about what was going to happen. Those four weeks were the most stressful time of my life and there were quite a few times I would just crack up. I really did feel like an emotional wreck. My nerves were shattered. I knew the operation was a very delicate and dangerous one. There was a possibility I would not be the same again. Mr.Ward would be operating very close to the nerve endings in my brain. If he touched the wrong part of my brain there would be a possibility I would be brain damaged or even become a ‘vegetable’. In this sort of operation you have to put your life in the hands of the surgeon. Mr.Ward is one of the best brain surgeons in the country but you still have the feeling in the back of your mind something could go wrong.

I contemplated making a will. Why on earth should anybody of my age, 25, even think about making a will? But I seriously had to think about it. My mind convinced me I was going to die. I was finding it hard to show my love to anybody. I do not know why, maybe I was trying to distance myself from them just in case something did go wrong. I should have shown my love.

(Sharon and I first met at a four-day horse show in Liphook, Hampshire, about eight years ago. At the time I was going out with her best friend. We would all meet up at different shows around the South East. We would compete during the day and get drunk in the evenings. It was funny seeing Sharon in the morning. She would have a very bad headache and still have to compete. Three years later we got together. At the time I was working in New Jersey, USA, as Director of Sales Promotions. My job was to find new accounts. We offered companies a promotion which would hopefully boost their sales. Every two months I would have two weeks holiday in England. During that time I would see Sharon at the stables.

One time I travelled back to England on the QE2. That was the most enjoyable holiday I ever had. The cruise took five days from New York to Southampton, everything about the trip was fantas¬tic, I never had such good food. I remember watching the dolphins swimming alongside the liner. What a sight seeing them jumping out of the sea. It was beautiful. During the cruise I won £1500 playing bingo.

After two years I left New Jersey to work in London because the company was sold and I had medical problems. I had spent two months in the USA trying to find out what the problem was. It was very expensive. Two weeks in England and I found out I’d got stomach ulcers.

Sharon and I had always been good friends, so it wasn’t a surprise to me that we started to have a relationship. One month later we decided to get engaged and a year later we were married, on Sharon’s birthday, 23rd June 1991. At that time Sharon had three horses. One day I was riding out with Tim, Sharon’s father and Bruce, a friend. We’d been out for about one hour and were nearing the stables when Bruce’s horse decided to kick me in the knee. I was on crutches for six weeks. It was then Sharon and I decided to work together in her shop. This is a pet shop, saddlery and dog beauty parlour, next to her parents’ business in Peacehaven.)

Before my operation I knew I would have to have my head shaved, so rather than shocking customers in the shop, I decided to shave my head before I went in to hospital. This was also a way of telling them something would be happening. Most people would ask about my new hair cut because my hair was quite nice. We were friendly with our customers, so they would be sure to say something and the new hair cut would break the ice. One day we got the dog clippers out of Sharon’s shop and clipped my hair. Helen, her husband Mark and my mum were there at the time. They all wanted to do it. I decided everybody could have a go. Helen grabbed the clippers as she wanted to start, clipping my hair first down one side of my head. It felt so funny having my head shaved. Mark did the other side. I was a bit worried they would cut me but within a short while I had a Mohican-style hair cut.

Now it was Mum’s turn but she decided against it as she thought the blades could cut my head. Sharon did not want anything to do with it. She disappeared and was nowhere in sight, so Helen and Mark decided they would finish the job. My head felt like a baby’s bum once I had put baby oil on it so I wouldn’t scratch it. When Tim and Rita saw my new hair cut they said, “Oh my Gawd!!” Sharon just smiled, you could tell she was hurting inside. She was more worried about the operation than how I looked. When I went outside I had to wear a cap because it felt cold. Mark and I went to the local off-licence to buy some cans of beer for the evening and we were having a laugh about my hair. We walked through the door still laughing and the owner, a friend of mine, asked what was so funny. I took off my cap and she said, “why have you done that?” So I told her. She was so sorry but I replied, “it’s one of those things.”

Well, the hair cut worked. A lot of customers asked what was going on and we told them. I have had so much support. They were all quite concerned and wanted to be kept up to date.

The four weeks passed until it was 9th June, the day I had to go the hospital. We were supposed to arrive at Hurstwood Park at 6.00 pm, so I had all day to think about it. I was actually looking forward to it, I was like a child going on a school trip. It was crazy! The most important time in my life and I was like that. Sharon, Mum, Tim and Rita came to the hospital with me. Helen and Mark had to go home to their children. When we got to Hurstwood Park the others all said how small it was. It looked like an old cottage hospital. The next nearest neurological centres are Guildford and London, both about 50 miles away.

We arrived at about 5.45 pm and I was shown to a bed. The first thing I did was unpack my bag. I had my toiletries, dressing gown, shaver, a spare set of clothes and of course, my pyjamas, as I didn’t want to frighten anyone with my body! As soon as I finished, the junior doctor came to see me. He gave me a medical to see if I was fit enough for the operation and then proceeded to tell me what would happen. The operation would be at 10.00 am the following day. Mr.Ward would make a ‘question mark’ incision above my left ear, so the skin could flap back. Then he would drill four holes in my skull in a square shape. This would then open like a trap door so he could see the brain and do the biopsy (that is take a sample of the brain to be analysed to see whether it is benign or malignant). Mr.Ward also said if he had the opportunity to remove the tumour or any part of it he would.

We were warned again that the operation was very delicate and I might come out of the operation a different person altogether. There were the same risks as in any operation. I was warned the seizures would probably increase, but because the operation was being done on the left side of the brain movement could be affected on my right side. I was warned the brain would not react as fast as it did before and memory could also be affected. It was hardly very reassuring to hear all this. I was told I would not be able to have anything to eat or drink, or have a cigarette after that night. Yes, I was smoking because it kept me calm. This was not really the time to stop.

Later, when Mr. Ward came to see me he told me the same as the junior doctor but he did laugh at my haircut. I asked him to make sure the whole of my head was shaved before the operation. At about 8 pm Sharon and the family decided to leave so I could get some rest. I walked them out to the car park and said my goodbyes. The next time I would see them would be after the operation. Poor Sharon was in a state. We were both crying. This was the first time we had been apart. Once they had gone it really dawned on me what was going to happen. I felt all alone for the first time in my life and I had no control over what was going to happen in the next 24 hours.

As I walked back into the hospital, I saw on the wall outside that staff were trying to raise money for new monitors and building renovations. Inside, on the corridor wall, I saw how much people had raised, their names were actually there. I thought how nice and rewarding it would be to have my name up there. When I got back to my bed there was an old gentleman next to me. He seemed a bit lost so I started to talk to him. There was a television right in front of my bed for the whole ward to watch but there were only six beds. It was quite handy as we could watch it from bed. Walking back from seeing Sharon off, I had also found a rest room where patients could go for a smoke. Whilst talking to the old man he had mentioned he would like to have a smoke but did not know where to go. I offered to take him because he was very weak. I held him up on one side whilst he held the bannister on the wall. The rest room rule was that visitors had to give up their chairs if a patient came in. We were lucky. There were two chairs left, so we stayed until about 10 pm then headed back to the ward. Once in bed I started to watch the 10 o’clock news, which I do at home. Normally I would go to bed when it finished. The ward was still quite busy with nurses giving patients their tablets. I had to have my fair share for my headaches and seizures. I lay on the bed, half watching the television and trying to fall asleep. Like most people I find it hard to sleep in a strange bed.

In hospital, nurses would wake patients up early in the morning for their tablets. This was my last chance to have a little drink before my operation. Generally, first thing in the morning I have a cup of tea and a cigarette but that morning it was not allowed.

At 8 o’clock the other patients were having their breakfast. How I would have loved a cup of teal About 8.30 am I was told my operation had been put back to midday. I pleaded with the nurses for half a cup and they agreed. Next thing I asked for was a cigarette, they said if I went and hid somewhere and did not let anybody see me, I could. When I got back to the ward a nurse told me that Tim had telephoned to see how I was and that everyone wished me luck. Sharon and my mum would be there in the afternoon. Sharon had cried all morning along with the rest of the family. She was very concerned about the operation after what the surgeon had told us the night before. How would it affect me? We had not even been married for a year. Our anniversary was in two weeks time on 23rd June, which was also her birthday.

I had my pre-med at 10.30 am and was asked to have a bath and get into a surgical gown. When I had done that I was given a couple of tablets to help me relax before the operation. At that time a new patient came into the ward and they were making such a noise I could not sleep. The nurse told me off for not sleeping.

Well, midday came and a trolley was wheeled in for me. It was time for the operation. I was frightened. I was wheeled down to the operating theatre but first of all I had to have an anaesthetic in a small adjacent room. I could see the theatre by looking through the window. I could see the big overhead lights and thought this is the time to see if my thoughts were right. The anaesthetist said I would feel a small prick and he asked me to count to ten. I think I got to about five.

The next thing I vaguely remember was waking up in the Intensive Care Unit with Sharon and Mum by my side. Sharon had been crying. I woke up and said to her, “I will be alright”, then drifted off again. Sharon said later it was such a relief hearing me speak. Mum said she had a feeling I was alright when I came out of the theatre and I had my right arm in the air. She said she thought it was my way of showing my right side of my body was fine, there were no side effects on my movements. That day is a total blur to me. All I can remember is waking up a couple of times. Once I remember having a seizure. During the seizure I saw the monitor next to me and wanted to pull the wires out. I have no idea why I thought this.

The next morning I woke with a very severe headache and some discomfort in my private parts where I had a catheter. Every time I moved, it hurt. I also had a tube coming out of my head which meant I had to lie on my back. Later I called the pipe in my head the ‘brain drain’. Blood would seep out of the wound and go into a bag. I was asked if I wanted a drink and something to eat. I asked for a cup of tea and some toast. I was given a ‘baby’ cup so I wouldn’t spill the tea but I could not eat the toast. Tim phoned asking how I was and said Sharon and Mum would come and see me sometime in the morning. My headaches were a lot worse now and I was given painkillers. After two hours I would ask for more. Well, you are not allowed to take the same tablet within four hours so I was having a mixture. They were trying to get the right tablet which would be the best for my complaint.

Sharon and Mum came later in the morning to stay with me until late afternoon. The journey from home to the hospital took 40 minutes each way so it was very trying for them. They brought cards, some from customers, mostly from the family. We talked about how things were but sometimes I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up, Sharon and Mum were holding my hand. It was very important that I had someone there when I woke up. At the time I was very poorly. Sharon and Mum would go home for dinner then Tim, Rita and Mum would come in the evening. Sharon had to stock the shop up for the following day. I also found out later that she was being very sick in the mornings. The doctor had put it down to stress because I was in hospital. Tim joked with her saying, “I hope you are not pregnant!”

Each time someone came in to see me, there were more cards and presents. It was lovely. During the first day in Intensive Care they took the catheter out, which made me very sore. All during the day my head was really pounding, I was asking for painkillers all the time. We just could not get one that did the job. My second night in Intensive Care I was very restless as I could not sleep on my back. The nurses kept making me tea. The pain was horrific it really upset me. At the time I felt I could not take any more but all I could do was to put up with it. The nurses told me the pain would decease in time.

The second day after the operation Tim phoned again to see how I was and to tell me someone would be in later. Every day my football mates phoned Rita to ask if they could come. She told them that they would not like to see the way I looked at the moment. Maybe later on in the week would be better. They would only get upset. It was hard enough for my family seeing the way I was. I must have looked terrible. It was a good job I could not see myself.

That morning Sharon and Mum came to visit again but when they came into the ward they did not see me. I’d been moved next to the door and they had walked straight past me. I had been moved because I did not need the monitor any more. Great, no more listening to blips. Sharon and Mum had brought more cards and said one of our customers was going to get everyone at her church to pray for me, which was nice. As I still kept drifting off to sleep, Sharon and Mum decided to walk to the town, which was two miles away. They got lost and had to ask for directions. When they got back and told me about it I had to laugh, which hurt my head as it was still very painful. Sharon had got me present, a little Teddy with the words I LOVE YOU on it. These were the words I wanted to hear as I was feeling very low.

Later on in the afternoon two nurses told me they were going to take out the ‘brain drain’. Sharon and Mum were asked to step out into the corridor. I thought it was a case of taking the bandages off and just taking the tube out. How wrong I was! One nurse held my head, the other asked me to cough which I did. Then she asked me to do it again. I had just started to cough when she pulled on the tube very hard. The pain was very very bad. I thought my headaches were painful, but this felt like a red-hot poker being put in my head, which throbbed for about an hour afterwards. Under my breath I said a lot of expletives which I cannot repeat. Sharon and Mum came back laughing but I did not find it funny at all. The nurse who pulled out the drain never came near me again.

Hurstwood Park was very good about visiting. There weren’t any set hours because of the nature of the operation. Visitors were allowed to stay all the time if they wanted but had to respect patients who were sleeping. Also, when the patients were give cups of tea, visitors were offered one as well. Tea was the only thing I had in hospital. When you are feeling bad, the last thing you think about is food. Every member of staff at the hospital was great. If you were on your own and awake, they came over to talk if you wanted to.

Most days I would see Mr.Ward. He would ask me how I was but never spoke to me about the operation or what was going to happen next. Everyone was worried that I was not picking up as I should have been. Mr.Ward did say to me he was surprised my eyes had not puffed up yet. He warned me they would.

The following day I woke up and could not see. I called for the nurse and asked, “what’s happened?” She said my head and my eyes had swollen up, that’s why I could not see. I could hear everything that was going on but could not see. During that time I thought ‘how do the blind cope’? Their lives must be so burdened with stress. I was actually feeling how they felt but mine would be temporary, theirs would not be. The nurses gave me pieces of cloth which were as cold as ice. These were great as they helped reduce the swelling and by night time I could pull my eyelids apart and see. The only problem was the mirror at the front of my bed. I could see my head had swelled twice the normal size and the front of my head had no hair but the back did. I looked like something out of a horror show. I looked like the Elephant Man.

On the fourth day I was moved to the recovery room, the ward I first slept in. Sharon and Mum visited during the day and Tim and Rita would come at night. You could see the journey was taking its toll. They too looked tired. They were still worried about me. The problem was they knew what was going to happen but never told me. I lay in bed worrying as I was expecting to have another operation. I was very depressed. Before I went into hospital I wanted to buy a tracksuit reduced from £120 to £70. Sharon and Rita said, “no, it’s a waste of money” because I was still ill. Rita had said if I got home within the week she would buy it. I replied how on earth was I going to do that if I had another operation? They said I was not having another one. They suddenly realized no one had told me what was going on. When I heard this I broke down with relief. Why hadn’t anybody told me? I cannot express how I felt. Now I was going to get that tracksuit, whatever happened.

The following day Rita agreed the football team could visit, but she did warn them to be ready for a shock and not to get upset in front of me. So many of the team came to see me we were asked to go into the conservatory where there was more room. They could hardly sit around my bed where the noise would disturb other patients. All the time I was in the hospital I was still having seizures; I had one whilst they were there. When they had gone they all told Rita they did not realize how bad I was. I know it upset them to see me like that.

I had a pinboard next to my bed covered with ‘get well’ cards. I had about 40 in all. There were patients around me who had only one or two cards. I thought, ‘how do they feel?’ I wished I could give them some of mine. Then on Saturday 15th June Mr. Ward came around and said I could go home, that I would probably be better off there than here. He said once my stitches were out I would be going home. I telephoned home as quick as a flash for someone to come and get me. During the week I was in hospital, the family and I had a sweepstake on how many stitches I would have. We each put in £1 and the one nearest would win. Well, my scar is from one ear to the other ear, not the question-mark I was told it would be. As a young nurse took out my stitches she remarked how nice they looked. It hurt a little bit but it was not as bad as the headaches I was having. They were not as bad now but they were still painful.

Tim and Rita came to pick me up and I went around thanking everyone. Whilst walking down the corridor, all I could think of was what an honour to get your name up there. This hospital was well worth the effort they had put in. Thank you all the staff of Hurstwood Park.

On the way home I told Tim and Rita that as far as I was concerned Mr.Ward had saved my life. If I hadn’t had that operation I would not be alive today. I am very thankful to Mr.Ward.

Soon after that I started to have a seizure. Tim could not just stop the car as we were on a country road and there was a car behind us. I was sitting in the front and Rita had to lean across from the back of the car to comfort me. I believe it happened for two reasons; firstly it was very hot and I had a jacket on; secondly the excitement of going home. My seizure did not last that long. All I wanted was to get home sit down and have a cup of tea. I realized what it must have been like for them coming to see me.

When we got back to Rita’s house, which is behind the post office they own, I was greeted by the whole family and the two dogs. Rita promptly took me to sit in the chair in the corner. All I wanted was a cup of tea and a cigarette. Before the operation I was not allowed to smoke in the lounge but Rita did not want me to be walking about too much. Mr.Ward had told me to have six weeks conva¬lescing at home before I did anything else. Sharon didn’t collect me from the hospital because she’d been doubled up in pain. Now it was my turn to tell her to telephone the emergency doctor! She was told to go to the Casualty Department in Brighton as he thought she might be pregnant and the embryo might be attached to her tubes. What a day!! I came out of hospital and Sharon went in. This was really upsetting for me. I just did not know what to do. Again I felt so helpless. I have always wanted a daughter and there we were, Sharon could be pregnant and she could lose the baby. Tim said he would take Sharon to the hospital. I wanted to go but was not physically up to it. We didn’t hear from them for two hours, Sharon was having tests. Then came the news that Sharon was pregnant and she was alright. Thank goodness!

That evening we watched a programme on the television called ‘Flying Doctors’. One of the doctors went to the city to have some tests done. Nobody knew what the tests were for. It turned out the doctor had tests for a brain tumour and they were positive. At that point I was in my chair sobbing. I just couldn’t get out of my chair because I was so weak. The last thing I wanted to see was this type of programme.

On the 19th of June I had to go to see my doctor, Dr.Etherton, to get a prescription for the drugs I had been using at the hospital. The problem was I did not want to sit in the reception with the other patients because I knew they would stare at me. I felt very odd as it was. Just going to the surgery shattered me. Sharon came with me. We were shown into one of the doctor’s examination rooms where we waited only about five minutes until a doctor came. All the doctors at the health centre were the best I have ever had. They just could not do enough for me. They were very under-standing about my condition and also the way Sharon felt.

Each evening Sharon and Tim would help me across to the house. The first days back at home I’d been watching television and having small seizures. Sharon told me to stay in bed and let it pass but this time I wanted to go to the toilet. Our bathroom is quite small and compact and as I went into the bathroom I had a seizure. I remember hitting my face on the side of the radiator and then I blanked out. I thought, ‘how long am I going to be here before Sharon comes?’ She would not be able to open the door because I was up against it.

When the seizure first started I thought I was going to die. Up until the time you black out you know what is going on. For those few moments your life flashes through your mind and I thought my number had been called. Unless you’ve experienced such a thing, you never realise how bad it is. When Sharon came over to me, the first thing she noticed was the blood on my forehead and she asked what had happened. I told her about my seizure and she went mad, saying why didn’t I telephone her before going to the toilet, the telephone being in the bedroom. The last thing I thought was going to happen was my having a seizure. After a while I saw the funny side but it was a dangerous thing to have happened.

After about a week we had to telephone Mr.Ward for the results. Tim made the call while we all sat in the lounge on tenterhooks. Before I was told, I had a funny feeling of what was coming. Mr.Ward confirmed my worst fears. I had a brain tumour and it as malignant. We were all stunned and I could not believe what had happened. Generally, when patients are told they have the big C, which is of course cancer, most fear it is a death sentence. But nowadays many types of cancer can be cured; it all depends on what sort of cancer and where the cancer is in the body.

When I heard I had the dreaded disease I realised I had the biggest fight of my life on my hands. It left me in a complete daze, it is very hard to explain my feelings at that time. I did not know whether to cry or to be happy from the relief of knowing what it was. Not knowing can be the hardest thing to live with. Everyone was praying that the tumour would not be malignant, but it turned out it was malignant.

I spent the next four weeks worrying about how bad it was. The last thing I wanted to know was how bad it was and how long I had to live. There were a lot of questions I wanted to ask but I did not really want to hear the answers. All the way through my treatment I never asked any questions. That was my big mistake. Having said that, since day one I said to myself, ‘I will beat it.’

I have had asthma since I was a baby and there were times when I had problems with that. I have probably been to hospital more than the average person. A lot of people hate hospitals but the more times you go in you tend to lose that fear.

At the end of my six weeks rest period, which was about the middle of July, I had to go to the radiotherapy and cancer unit at the Royal Sussex County Hospital in Brighton. The first day I met Dr.Shirley Murrell, who was to be my specialist. First thing I had to have was a medical to see how much strength I was getting back. Shirley told me I would have four weeks general radio-therapy on my head and two weeks more intensive treatment. My first treatment was to start that day, which surprised me. I thought she would talk to me then make an appointment to start the treatment.

In all there were six different radiotherapy machines, all had different uses which meant they could do every part of the body. My treatment, to start with, would last about two minutes each side of my head, every day for four weeks excluding weekends. I went down the corridor to have the treatment and joined the queue. The amount of people who have treatment in a day is incredible. Most of the patients were women, I would say ninety percent were for breast cancer. We waited for about one and a half hours until it was my turn.

Even though the treatment was for only two minutes, it took about five or six minutes to get me into the right position. Patients lie on a hard bench-come-table, then they are placed into position so the radiation is directed to the right place. I was sellotaped to the bench and also had a sort of head mould behind my head. You’re asked not to move until the therapy has finished.

One of the after-effects of the treatment is tiredness and when I got home I would sleep for a few hours. I was told not to wash my lair for six weeks and my hair would fall out after about two to three weeks. Every morning there was a very long and steep ramp to walk up to the radiotherapy unit. It is hard enough for a normal person to walk up, never mind a patient who is ill.

After two weeks I started smoking again. I spoke to the nurse about the problems of giving up and she said it was not really the ‘fight time to try. Smoking at the time helped me to keep calm. After the operation Mr.Ward had said another after-effect would be a very bad temper. He was right. I would just blow up for no reason at all. The main person I took it out on was Sharon; why do we always take it out on our nearest and dearest?

During the first four weeks of my radiotherapy I was having my flask sized. The measurements and dimensions were worked out on a computer. The computer worked out where my tumour was then shone laser beams onto my head. The operator then tattooed small dots on my head. The following day a dentist, of all people, made a cast of my head. The plaster cast was put over my lead and left to dry, which took about twenty minutes. When dry, he mould was taken off then made into a plastic mask for my two weeks of radiotherapy. The mask had three large holes cut in it was then put on a different radiotherapy machine which would give more intensive radiation. I lay on the table, the mask placed over my face and bolted to the table. It felt very uncomfortable, like I was trapped. I was not allowed to move, not that I could anyway.

During those six weeks Dr.Murrell was trying to get my tablets right. My headaches continued to be very bad. I had also been put on steroids to help keep my strength up. At this point I was taking about thirty tablets a day, depending on my headaches. If someone had picked me up and shaken me, I’d have rattled.

During the third week of radiotherapy my hair started to fall out. I would rub my head and the hair would be all over my hand. At one time after rubbing my head in different places it had bald patches all over. I thought it looked trendy but nobody else did. I had a little tuft on the front, which Sharon pulled but it would not come out. We ended up clipping all the hair off. Even when my hair started to grow again there was one patch which stayed bald and people used to look at me as if I was a freak.

Every day we set out at 8.20am to arrive at the hospital for 8.45am. The parking around the hospital was, and still is, dread¬ful. There are a lot of flats around the hospital so by the time we got there, there would be lots of cars parked on the street. No matter where we parked we would, at some point, have to walk up a steep hill to get to the radiotherapy department. On reaching the department entrance there’s another steep ramp. This is so patients in wheelchairs can get to the department. The problem is this incline is about 30 yards long and most of the walking patients, because of their illness, found the ramp hard going. It was fairly hard for me sometimes: I dread to think how the older patients coped.

During the six weeks of radiotherapy to stunt the growth of the tumour, I would have to see Dr. Murrell to check how I was getting on with the treatment and sometimes have blood tests. These were to make sure the drug levels were not too high. It seemed to me every time I saw Dr. Murrell she sent me for a blood test. To be honest I am not very happy having injections but it was something that had to be done.

One of the worst days of my life was on September 16th 1991 when my mum telephoned to say my grandmother had died of cancer. The world for me just stopped. I just did not know what to do or say. I was very close to Gran even though we did not see much of each other. To make things worse my grandfather had died of cancer about four years before. When he found out he had cancer, he starved himself to death. My gran never knew but my mother and I did. What a way to die. He did not want anyone to be put out looking after him. Helen and Wendy, my mother, were not going to tell me about Gran’s death until after her funeral but they both agreed it would be better to call me before I heard from someone else. I wanted to pay my respects to her. I, like most people, got very upset during the funeral. I could not believe that so short a time after I found out that I had cancer, she died of the same horrific illness.

Every day I felt trapped into a routine: wake up, treatment, sleep, dinner and finally back to sleep for the next day. I found myself being drained mentally and physically which meant I would argue with Sharon constantly and it started to put a strain on our marriage. I think the mental torment is the killer. You hate everything around you and start to say, ‘Why me?’ The anger I had during those weeks was unbearable. I would think, ‘Why wasn’t I dead?’ and I felt very suicidal many times. I had enough tablets around me to do it, take a few of these and these and have a few cans of beer and it all would be over, no more suffering. I kept saying to myself that this was the easy way out and would upset my family and friends. It is easy for people to say, ‘It’s going to be alright’. How do they know?

During the whole of my treatment, including the chemotherapy, I would have large bouts of depression but I would never tell anyone. I did not want to bother anyone with my problems, I was so wrapped up in self-pity. I remember thinking, ‘I’m the one who is dying, why would anyone care if I died or not?’ Once I started thinking like this, many problems started to arise. I would rebel against everything I was told to do. I wanted to control what I did or did not do. If Sharon or Rita said, “You shouldn’t be doing that”, I would go out of my way to do it. As I look back on it now, it was a cry for help. I just could not admit I was losing my mind. I could not help myself and would not go to a cancer group and have some group therapy. Death had been on my mind. For this to happen only made my worries worse.

Each time I had a treatment I counted the days to go. I was like a child counting the days to a birthday or Christmas. On the last day of my treatment I was told I had to see Dr.Murrell afterwards. I was happy the last day of my treatment had come and I’d got a ‘Thank You’ card and a box of chocolates for the nurses who had treated me. I was given the mask they had used. The nurses wrapped it up in paper and said I could keep it to remember them by. To this day I have kept the mask.

I thought that after the last day of treatment Dr.Murrell would tell me just to come back for check-ups. How wrong could I be. She asked me if I’d like to go on a special programme which had been set up by a hospital in London. I had the choice to say yes or no. I felt at the time I would try anything to get rid of the tumour. I told Dr.Murrell I would give it a go.

The programme was specifically for brain tumour patients. Half would have the chemotherapy and half would just have check-ups. This would determine whether chemotherapy could help to stunt or even kill the tumour. To find out what my treatment would be, Dr.Murrell had to phone the London hospital.

The telephone call was made and I was accepted onto the programme. To my horror I was told I would be having chemo¬therapy. I say that because I had heard so many horrific stories about what chemotherapy does to a patient. Even before I knew had cancer, I had read Bob Champion’s autobiography. I thought what a courageous man he was, he was a hero in my eyes. Now I had to go through the same treatment and hell as he had. It took a long time for this to sink in but it was something I had to try, not only for the programme but for me. Dr.Murrell told me the treatment would last one year. I would be given eight treatments during that year which meant one every six weeks. I would be treated as an out-patient.

Once I arrived home it suddenly dawned on me that I was very seriously ill. Before then I felt it was all a bad dream and I would wake up doing the things I would normally be doing, i.e.; playing football and driving the car. It was not a joke. I could hardly walk around for 95 minutes never mind run for 90 minutes. The nightmare was a reality and I would not be waking up to my old way of life. In two months my life was in a shambles. The pain and suffering I was going through was also starting to affect the conversations I was having with my family and friends. Nobody knew what to say or do for me because nobody knew what was going to happen or how I felt. This made me even more angry about the situation I was trapped in.

The appointment was made for my first treatment a week later. I was told that before each treatment I would have a blood test to make sure my blood was at a good level to start with. My GP would do the test then send the sample to the hospital to be checked.

The days leading up to my first treatment were very nerve-racking indeed. I could not sleep, was on edge and most of all scared. My first day of chemo’ was in September ’91. When the day came I went to see Dr.Murrell for a quick medical. She always asked me before this and later treatments, ‘did I want to carry on?’ It showed me that doctors who prescribe such horrific treatment have compassion for their patients. Each time I went to hospital I was weighed and a record was kept to see if I was losing weight.

Once everything was checked I was given a prescription to take to the pharmacy in the tower block of the hospital, about a 100 yards walk away. I would then come back to the cancer unit with this green box. I had no idea what was in this box until a doctor took out the contents.

Chemotherapy can be administered in many different ways and the drugs can be totally different from one patient to another. Mine was administered by injection. I sat in a chair and was asked in which arm I would like the injection. Nine times out of ten I would have it done in my left arm, basically because I am right-handed. The doctor took out the contents of the box. There were two syringes and two bottles of tablets. The first syringe would be full of saline solution, the second would contain one of the chemo¬therapy drugs.

First a butterfly ‘tube’ was inserted into my arm with a small tube attached. Some of the saline solution would be injected into my arm and the chemotherapy drug would be injected into the tube. To make sure all the drug had gone in, the rest of the saline solution was injected. It took about ten minutes to complete that part of my treatment. I was told to expect to be sick later in the day. I was then told to take the first lot of tablets in one go when I got home. It’s a good job there were only five to take as I still had to take my normal dose of three. The last bottle of tablets had to be taken over a period of ten days. Even though I was taking so many other tablets I found these were the hardest to take, though why I don’t know. Generally I could take at least four tablets at once.

Well the doctor was right, 5pm came and I was violently sick. Each time I thought it had finished I had to run back to the toilet to be sick again. Sharon and Rita suggested I had something to eat as I probably wouldn’t be sick any more. I thought to myself, ‘well that wasn’t too bad’. Wrong. I did not even have time to finish my dinner before I was making acquaintance with the toilet again!! In the end, because I was running backwards and forwards to the toilet so much, I took the brand new mop bucket which was meant to be for the pet shop and kept it by my side. It was bright red. It went everywhere I went.

Poor Sharon was having a hard time with morning sickness and there I was being sick all the time. I was given sickness tablets and suppositories but nothing would help. This went on for about a week. It was absolute murder. No one can imagine how bad it is unless they have experienced it. I would never wish this killer, and I mean killer, of a treatment on anyone – it’s impossible to imagine.

The sickness lasted about seven days but I didn’t really feel ‘normal’ for weeks. By then of course it was time for another lot. As the treatments went by I felt the sickness was getting worse and it was very difficult to do the next one. I felt after every treatment I could not take any more. Each time I would be sick at 5pm, the day I had my treatment, and I just hated the thought of going through it again. Being at home I thought was the wrong place to be. Just think how my family felt watching someone very dear to them going through a lot of problems and looking very ill.

My third treatment was to be the last of ’91, just before Christmas. I knew I would not be able to eat as much as I’d like over Christmas. The thought of eating frightened me. I wanted for just one day to feel well so I could join in the festivities: As it happened I was fine for the morning of Christmas day. We opened our presents and laughed and joked a little bit. After the morning I had worked myself up too much by worrying about the future and I cried a lot. I was lucky to have everyone around me at that time, some people are not so lucky.

On New Year’s Eve we were asked to go to dinner with friends – Sandra and Bruce. Sandra is a great cook and I was determined not to miss her cooking. Everything was great up until the chimes for the new year of ’92 came. Everyone started kissing each other. I could not move out of my chair. All I was thinking about was the past year and what was in store for me. I was convinced I was going to die very soon and the thought frightened me. I thought I was too young to die and started thinking again, ‘Why me?’ You always hear of it happening to other people, you never think you will get it. I had to leave and go home. Yet again the evening turned sour for me. ‘Poor Sharon must be getting sick of this’, I felt. I spent all night crying and trying to get some sleep.

The next morning I became very angry with myself for letting my emotions get the better of me. I normally reserved them for a time when I was on my own. I felt I was very weak and should not cry. I was a man -men do not cry. We are supposed to be the dominant sex. I have learnt how wrong I was to think such a thought. We are all human and all of the other emotions, i.e.; suicidal tendency, depression, fits of rage, are some of the feelings a patient can have. That’s normal.

At the end of the football season, in April, I was asked by my fellow team mates to come to the annual get-together. This is when the trophies are given to certain members of the squad. One would be given to the manager, another to the players’ player of the year. All the players take their wives or girlfriends and food is laid on.

Well, Dave James, the manager, got his trophy. Barry Pallen was given the Players’ Player Award because he had scored over 30 goals in the season. Then came my big surprise. The manager’s player of the year was me, the whole team agreeing on his decision. Dave announced the award was for courage on and off the pitch. I could not believe it but everybody else did. We had such a great night.

The greatest day of my life came on 8th February 1992 when Sharon gave birth to a 7Ib 10oz baby girl at 1.45 pm. We decided to call her Stacey Amanda. Ever since I was at school I have wanted to be married and have a little girl. Now both wishes have come true. All through the pregnancy everyone said the baby would be a boy. When Stacey arrived I was overjoyed.

I had been at the hospital since lunchtime the day before. I slept in the visitors’ lounge on a chair. I was cold and stiff when I woke up at 6am on the 8th. The first thing I did was to go to the newsagents for the daily papers. I had to wait until 8 am to see Sharon because other patients were still asleep. Sharon was having mild contractions most of the day. Other visitors came and went. Tim and Rita visited in the evening and left about 10 pm. About half an hour later Sharon’s contractions started to get stronger. In the end she was given gas and air to help with the pain. I told her off once for using too much. Two days later Stacey came home with us and that’s when the sleepless nights started.

When Stacey was born I vowed I would live. I wanted Stacey to know me as her Dad. The last thing I wanted was Sharon to have to tell her about me because I’d died. Stacey in my eyes has been the best medicine I could have asked for. She means the world to me and I treasure the moments we have together. She can sometimes be hard work to look after but I love her very dearly.

My fourth treatment was in January ’92. It came and again I went to the doctor for my blood test. Again at 5 pm I started to be sick. A couple of days later I caught a cold which made the sickness worse. After sixteen days of hell I asked to see Dr.Murrell. She was away on holiday so I had to see another doctor. I had not eaten for 16 days, all I could have was very small drinks of water. I lost two stone in weight in one week because of this. The doctor said he would admit me onto the cancer ward where I would be cared for. At the time I was in such a state I just could not stay at home. My headaches were getting worse, they were becoming unbearable. I realised I was having a nervous breakdown.

Whilst on the ward I was given a drug called Ondansetron (trade name Zofran). Each tablet costs £9 and I was having three a day for two weeks. It certainly helped with the sickness but I still had bad headaches and very bad gastric pains.

The cancer ward at the Royal Sussex is called Howard Ward and was like no other ward I had been on. There are about ten beds and about five nurses on the ward at all times, except in the evenings. The nurses were great; if a patient didn’t have a visitor they would sit with them. They were very professional. Their care and attention was out of this world. Nobody could have received better. I was in Howard Ward for about five or six days.

During my stay I would ask the other patients if they would like me to get them any newspapers from the hospital shop. I always used to get two papers for myself and would compare the form of the horses. I would then telephone my picks for the day to a friend called Bruce, who would then take them to the betting office. He always comes in to the shop to pick up our bets if we have any. I generally have a bet when racing is on the television and it just so happened the races were on television the week I was in hospital. Having a bet helped relieve the boredom. I was in a section of the ward with only two beds and one TV. The man in the other bed quite enjoyed watching the racing as well. I would ask him to pick some horses and we would see who got the most winners. He came from Uckfield and had a pub. He was probably in his 60s and was very funny. He also told me he had never put a bet on a horse in his life! Good job, by the time I went home I was in profit, rather than loss!

After each chemo’ session I would think, ‘that’s it, I don’t want another one’, but then I would forget how awful it had been and decide to have the next one. During the chemo’ sessions my seizures got worse. I would be sitting at home with Sharon quietly watching television, then suddenly feel a seizure coming on. My head would always turn to the right, go totally stiff and start to shake violently. Sharon would go to bed at 9 pm because she was so tired from working in the shop, but I would stay up until 10.30 pm. Some nights I had a seizure after she had gone to bed which was frightening. Afterwards I would be too scared to walk to the bedroom, so I used to crawl. Then I started having a seizure each morning before I got out of bed.

One morning in April ’92 I woke and waited for the seizure before getting up. Less than five minutes later I had another one, which got me rather worried. I managed to get hold of the telephone and rang Sharon to help me get to the shop. By this time I was having another one. Tim arrived a couple of minutes later to see me having yet another seizure. He tried to hold me still but he couldn’t. He was very surprised how powerful a seizure could be. He also asked how often this happened. When Sharon told him every day, he said, ‘why hadn’t she told him?’ As soon as he said that, another seizure started. Tim told Sharon to telephone the doctor, who knew everything about my illness. He came within five minutes. Within seconds of him administering something for the seizures, I had another. The doctor then telephoned for an ambulance to take me to hospital.

I was put into the ambulance and we set off for the hospital, the blue light flashing. Suddenly I started to have another seizure. The ambulance man, who was in the back with me, did not say anything but signalled to the driver. Suddenly the siren came on and the ambulance started to speed up. Afterwards Sharon told me she was hanging on for grim death.

Once I got into the hospital I was rushed into casualty. The doctor started to look over me and was asking what had happened. Before I could tell him, I started to have yet another seizure. The doctor quickly put a tube into my arm and gave me an injection which put me to sleep. Within half an hour I’d had six seizures. I thought I was going to die. I felt very sorry for Sharon seeing me like this. It must have been frightening for her. I have seen only one person have a seizure and it frightened me.

I was kept in hospital for a week. The cancer ward was full so I had to go into one of the old wards. The seizures kept coming and going all day. Once I hit my face on the metal of my bed, cutting my mouth open. In the end the nurses put pillows around my head so I could not hurt myself.

Whilst I was having a seizure I could still hear what was going on around me. I asked the nurses to hold my hand and talk to me. It did help keep me calm. One night I had a seizure, the nurses just stood and watched. They had not been told to talk to me and hold my hand.

I had an appointment with Dr. Murrell whilst I was on the ward. My mother and Rita had to take me to see her in a wheelchair. Never again! They were hopeless. There were a couple of hills we had to go up and down. They jokingly said they were going to let go whilst going down a hill.

Dr.Murrell said I should have another scan. When I went for the scan I had a seizure in the waiting room. I was given a drug called Phenytion which stopped the seizures completely. After all I had been through in that week, I had stared death in the face. Now I have realised I am not worried about dying any more, my time will God says so.

The day after I came out of the hospital I had a bath and a brainwave! I realised how much everyone had helped me, it was like a kick in the backside. I had previously been thinking about doing some sort of fund raising for the two hospitals where I had been treated – Hurstwood Park Neurological Centre, Haywards Heath and the Sussex County Cancer Unit, Brighton – I decided there and then I was going to do it. My first idea was to run a raffle. I wanted the first prize to be a weekend in Paris. When I got out of the bath I told Sharon what the first prize would be. She thought I was crazy, firstly because I was still ill, and secondly because she did not think I could do it.

The next day I told Tim and Rita but they doubted if I would be able to get someone to give that sort of prize. I telephoned British Airways anyway and three days later I was told that British Airways would donate £500-worth of air travel. Then I decided if British Airways would help, other well-known companies would perhaps also donate some prizes. I spent about two weeks on Tom and Rita’s telephone trying to get other companies to join in. This was done whilst I looked after Stacey during the day. I was very lucky to have a mountain bike donated by Shoesmith and Etheridge, a local warehouse company.

In the end I had received 26 prizes. The companies were: British Airways, Dixons Ltd., W.H.Smith, American Express, Virgin, Hogg Robbinson, the travel agents, Parker Pen, Argos, Wool-worths, Evening Argus, and many local businesses. To help with publicity I telephoned the two main local papers, the Sussex Express and the Evening Argus, and they both put me on the front page with all the details about the raffle and also a photo of myself with Stacey. I was so proud.

During the time I was making the arrangements for the show and raffle I had two more chemos’. The treatments were still giving me a lot of problems. Not only the sickness but the feeling of being insecure – that was probably the worst part. I was still having the side-effects and my mood swings were causing a lot of problems. I had no relief from my headaches, my head would throb all the time and I was sick of it. There were so many times when I would blow my top. I did not mean to do it but it just happened. I had no control. I would say some terrible things and most of it was directed at Sharon. Sharon had enough problems with the shop and a new-born baby and now I was adding to them. Sometimes I felt very jealous of Stacey – she was getting all the attention. Again I felt on my own but when help and love were shown, I rejected it. This only made the situation worse. I was unbearable to live with. Also the fact I wanted to spend all my time on the raffle during the day. Sharon, and her mother Rita, kept telling me to slow down because it was making me ill. But I am one of these people who like things to be done straight away.

I decided to order 10 000 raffle tickets as a lot of relatives and friends up and down the country would be selling them. A local optician sponsored the tickets and this paid for the printing. All the money from the raffle would be profit and go to the two hospitals. I cannot thank the doctors and nurses enough.

The raffle tickets were selling like hot-cakes. I guess it was because of the quality and number of prizes. After a few weeks I had to order another 5000 tickets. This idea was exceeding beyond my greatest expectations. In the beginning I would have been happy to raise £5, yet I had already got £1500.

I thought I could tie-in the raffle draw with my own horse show but knew the horse show was going to be a lot harder to organise than the raffle. Before the show could be held there was the matter of £800 to be raised for prize monies, rosettes, trophies, public address equipment and other expenses. In all there were 14 sponsors who helped raise this money.

I invited the Mayor of Peacehaven to draw the raffle at the show. I also invited a Brighton and Hove Albion football player, and Gary O’Reilly who has played for Spurs and Crystal Palace. At the same time I was having my treatment, Roy Castle was having his, so I invited him to come too. I received a handwritten letter saying he was already committed on that day, health permitting, but he wished me a sunny and successful day. He also wished me good luck with the rest of my chemo’. That letter really put a smile on my face because Roy had taken time to reply personally. The papers were fantastic, especially Madeleine Mayhew. Maddy is a reporter with the Sussex Express. Maddy has helped me so much during my chemo’ ordeal.

Between setting up the show and raffle I held a tombola and rummage sale at the back of the shop. I had appealed for tombola prizes – unwanted clothes and bits and pieces for the rummage. The garage was full by the time the day arrived. It poured with rain but we still made £300, a success considering the weather.

The horse show and the raffle draw were planned for the 16th August 1992. New Barn Farm, Kingston, near Lewes. We de¬cided the show should be set up two days in advance so we could rope off the rings on the Friday night and move all the jumps into the field on Saturday.

The following day, 17th August, the lady who won the mountain bike said she wanted to donate the bike back to me. It was worth £150. I thought, ‘What am I going to do with that now?’ I could have sold it but decided instead to raffle it again out of the shop. The local fruit and veg shop, A B Fruits, donated a huge basket of fruit as well. That raffle raised another £250. The mountain bike winner was another elderly person and I just hoped she had a grandchild otherwise I thought, this bike would keep turning up like a bad penny. Luckily it turned out this winner had someone to give it to.

All the events I organised raised a grand total of £4050. Never in my wildest dreams had I hoped to raise so much money.

A week later I was having another chemo’ treatment and of course I was really bad again. After the treatment I arranged to hand over the money to the two hospitals. The bank sent me two very large presentation cheques and a local sign writer filled them in for me. I asked the Sussex Express and the Evening Argus to do the cheque presentations and there were write-ups in the papers on Friday September 18th 1992. Staff at both hospitals asked if I would be doing any more fund-raising but I felt so drained. I told them to give me some time to rest and I would do something in the future. I wanted to get on with the last two treatments.

I had one chemo’ treatment then said I could not bear another. I was feeling very ill and this made me very cranky. I kept taking everything out on my family, especially Sharon. Now I am really sorry for what they went through, they did not deserve it.

A month later a friend came into the shop asking if I would help in another fund-raiser. I was known by then as the ‘Peacehaven Fund-raiser’. I really felt like saying no, until I heard it was for a two year old girl called Nicola Walsh who was suffering from Neuroblastoma, a very rare childhood cancer. She had already had nine chemo’ treatments and had lost a kidney in the process. Poor Nicola had been given only six months to live. The idea was to raise some money so the family could go on holiday. I telephoned Nicola’s parents, Ron and Sue, to find out where they would like to go.

Nicola used to watch Disney videos all the time, especially when she was in hospital having her treatment. Once I heard where she wanted to go I telephoned Unijet, one of the largest travel companies in the country. I went direct to the managing director and he said they would be able to help. He also said he would get one of his directors to telephone me. I expected someone to telephone the next day but in fact he rang me at home that night. I thought I would ask straight out if they would pay for Nicola and her parents to go to Euro Disney. When he replied the company did not operate there, I had nothing to lose but to ask if they went to the ‘real’ Disneyland in Florida and, if so, would they help us. He immediately offered to pay all of the hotel costs and Nicola’s air fare but said we would have to raise the money for Ron and Sue’s air fare. He also said Unijet would give them £500 spending money, throw in tickets for Disneyland everyday and match our fund-raising £1 for £1 up to £250. I think I got a very good deal!

Nicola, to my mind, was a very brave girl indeed. She probably did not know what was going on but the pain that poor girl – not even a girl, just a baby – went through was terrible. Sometimes life is so unfair (but we have to live with it).

To start Nicola’s fund rolling I gave £100 and ran a raffle from the Post Office. Some people from the local pub – The Retreat at Peacehaven – did a pram push. The pram fell apart. Bottles were placed in local shops and a pub in Brighton put on a concert. All proceeds went into the fund. I also sent out letters to businessmen appealing for a donation but only one replied. Peacehaven football club donated £120, collected at home matches. In the end a grand total of £2000 was raised.

Unijet presented the tickets to Nicola on her third birthday and the family went on holiday a week later. Unijet also arranged for Nicola to get VIP treatment at the hotel and she had breakfast and dinner with the Disney characters. The family spent all their time in Disneyland and had a great time. We all owe the people at Unijet a lot for giving Nicola the trip of a lifetime. Without them Nicola would never have had her dream holiday. But when Nicola went back to Great Ormond Street Children’s Hospital for a check-up, Ron and Sue were told the cancer had reappeared and there was nothing the hospital could do for her. Nicola died on the 14th January 1993.

After I had finished Nicola’s fund-raising I was given the name of a consultant at the Royal London Hospital. Prof. Watkins had cured a friend of mine who had a tumour removed from his spine. Before I could see him I had to get a referral from Dr.Etherton, my GP. Once I had the referral I could make an appointment. The appointment was made for the early part of January ’93, my only problem would be getting there. Peter Norman, another friend of mine, offered to take me. The Royal London Hospital is in Whitehall. Whitehall is one big one-way system and we got lost,

It took us half an hour to find the hospital – which is very big compared to Brighton’s Sussex County Hospital. I also had trouble finding the correct department but once there it took very little time to see Prof. Watkins. He asked why I had come to see him and what I expected to hear from him. I told him I was recommended to him and I hoped he could operate on my tumour. He then told me very bluntly that there was absolutely nothing he could do, I’d had all the treatment I could have. I asked how long I had to live. I thought I should never have asked that question but I had to know. He told me it could be a week, a month, a year or even longer. He just didn’t know. He then told me to live every day as it came. I realized then I was looking for a miracle. There wasn’t one. This really knocked me back and upset me. It took a long time to get over what he had said but it was worth a try. Now it’s time to think positive rather than negative.

In fact Rita suggested we go and see someone about my problem and of course I said no. I thought I could sort it out myself. I did not want anyone telling me what I should be doing. Since my operation I have had a terrible temper and fly off the handle for no reason. Also I cannot stand noise which is a problem for Stacey and my two young nieces. They could not help making a lot of noise and many times I snapped at them which upset my wife.

When I was ill I rejected the loving care of Sharon and Rita then blamed Sharon for not showing any love towards me. We would never talk about my problems. I thought Sharon was too weak and I wanted to protect her from the stresses of the illness. This I now deeply regret. I should have let Sharon into my thoughts. I wanted her to stop loving me because I thought if I died she would come to terms with it easier. What I did was very selfish and I regret it totally. The headaches and the sickness and not being able to talk were why we separated on 23rd June 1993. That day was our third anniversary and Sharon’s birthday. It’s hard to believe how much Sharon and I have been through in the last three and a half years. I owe everything to Sharon and all of my family. Without them I think I would have given up a long time ago. Now I’m living in a flat close to the shop and I see Stacey nearly every day. Without her I would find life a lot harder. I wish I could turn back the clock but that’s life unfortunately.

My most recent fund-raiser was a sky dive on Saturday 30th April 1994. Again it was a sponsored event. The money raised would go to the Cancer Unit at the Royal Sussex County Hospital and the Winged Fellowship, they arrange holidays for disabled peo¬ple. The jump was to be from 12 000 feet. I would free fall for 7 000 feet at about 130 m.p.h. and then parachute from 5 000 feet to the ground.

I set out from home at about 6.30 am. A friend, Rob, drove me to Banbury in Oxfordshire, Dean, my brother-in-law, came with us as well. The pair of them were trying to make me nervous on the way. I must be honest, I was not nervous until we started seeing the signposts for the airfield. Once we arrived I had about five minutes instruction on what to do, which does not seem long, but I was going to jump with an instructor strapped to my back. His nickname was Loz and he looked crazy, as they all did. Mr.Ward, my surgeon, had given me the all-clear to do the jump, but he said I could not do a bungee jump.

Once I was suited-up and got my harness on, we waited for the plane to take us. Well there was a problem with the original plane, so we had to go up in a different plane. My instructions were to roll out of the door when we had reached the height to jump. Once they had a look at the replacement plane, I was told to forget what I had been told. On this plane we would have to climb onto a platform underneath the wing before we could jump. Gulp! This did make me nervous because the plane was so small we had to go up in two pairs at a time. The other guy who was to go up with us was just like me, he had never done anything like this. Also the plane had no doorway, it had been taken off to make things easier, which meant the last two in sat next to where the door should have been. Guess who was sitting in the doorway? Yes me, I had asked previously if I could jump first.

From when we taxied on the runway, it took us about 20 minutes to get to 12 000 feet. On the way up because I was sitting so close to the empty doorway I could see everything around. The land¬scape from that high looked huge. Now and again Loz would lean out of the door to see where we were and to check which way the wind was blowing. Every time he leaned over out of the door I went with him because we were attached. The first time he did this I thought we were going to fall out, but once I got used to it, I was fine. I remember looking down at the runway where we had taken off. It was so small, it was as small as a stamp.

Once we reached 12 000 feet we started to climb out underneath the wing, on to the small platform. I was told once I was out to cross my arms and put my head back. I felt I must be crazy standing here at 12 000 feet not holding on to anything, madness, just pure madness. I think there are easier ways of raising money for the hospital. Suddenly, Loz let go and we did a few somersaults until we levelled out, my eyes were watering so much I could hardly see. We fell 7 000 feet at 130 m.p.h. in about 30 seconds, what a feeling, my adrenaline was just pumping, ‘this is incredible’. Then at 5 000 feet I felt a sudden jolt which pulled on my shoulders and between my legs, where my harness was. The parachute opened, the sudden reduction of speed was amazing, we were floating to the ground at around 30 m.p.h.. The only thing I did not like was when started to circle very tightly. It probably took about five minutes to land. When you look down just before you land, you think you are going too fast and you are going to land with a crash. Well we didn’t, Loz pulled down the string on the parachute which slowed us right down. We fell over each other but nothing got broken. Once I unhooked myself from Loz I threw my arms in the air, ‘I had done it!! Great, what’s next?’ It was just like a dream, I was so proud of myself, it’s a great feeling to know you have done something to help others. If I did not have this illness I probably would not have done any of the things I have done.

All I can say to anybody who has an illness is try and do something to keep your mind off it and always try to think positive. It is not easy but try and I don’t mean going around jumping out of airplanes, only mad people do things like that. Also, consider talking out the stresses you are under to people. These could include your spouse, your parents, your children and your friends. Try not to forget their pains and fears, theirs could be greater than yours. Try to eat and drink well, consider small amounts of exercise and relax as much as you can. This combination will help you feel better.

Recently I had a check-up at the Sussex County Hospital, Dr. Mu rrell and Mr. Ward were both very happy with my progress. I have recently been to the USA. There I spoke to a friend called Kathleen, who is a fully-qualified physiotherapist. I spoke to Kathleen about the problems I had with my emotions and she told me that when there is a big change in your health, your state of mind changes. The following are just some examples: constantly crying, sadness, depression, suicidal thoughts, shorter temper, fear of dying. Furthermore, all the above could be not only in the mind of the patient but also affecting members of their family or close friends. They are natural feelings. If you suffer, or know anyone who suffers from any of these feelings, please seek help either through your doctor, local cancer group or a trained therapist. You must talk to someone. PLEASE DO NOT BE LIKE ME.

Now too late, I know I should have sought help, it just could have saved my marriage.

Epilogue

On the 28th February 1995, I went for a routine brain scan and was given an appointment for a week later to come back for the results. Normally when waiting for the results I get very apprehen¬sive. I would think, ‘what if the tumour had gotten worse and how would I cope with more bad news?’ But during those seven days I had a sense of peace, I just was not worried at all.

Seven days had passed and I went to see Dr.Shirley Murrell to get the results. When I got there it was the same routine; get weighed and have a medical. Once this was done Shirley told me the result of the scan: The scan had shown the tumour had disappeared and there was no sign of cancer. Shirley said there were a couple of marks which would heal in time. I could not believe what I was hearing, I was overwhelmed by it all and I was on cloud nine. I was out of hospital before Shirley changed her mind. Once I got back home I gave everyone the good news and then I telephoned my mother to give her the good news. Later in the day she had to telephone me back to make sure she had heard right. Over the last four and a half years my mother and I spent a lot of the time talking about what was going to happen. There were times when we both thought I was going to die. Looking back now, I cannot believe how I got through it.

Over the past week I have spent a lot of time crying with mixed emotions. The hardest thing to do now is getting over the nightmare of all this, there has been so much hurt, it is going to take a long time to get over and then I can start a new life. There are so many things I wanted to do but was unable to do, my biggest love is football and now I can start to get fit for next season. There is one thing I will carry on doing and that is raising money for the cancer unit. If I can help others and give them the chance I was given to start a new life, it will have been worth all the pain and suffering I went through.

Postscript

Whilst I was in the USA spending some time with my old secretary, Lee Lind, she took me along to her local church. The Pastor heard of my plight and asked if he could anoint my head with oil, I agreed. Whilst anointing went on I felt a warm sensation going through my body. I mentioned this to members of my new church in Peacehaven, we all agree that the healing started after anointing. Praise the Holy Lord our God.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

There are so many people I am very grateful to during my plight for life. Each of the following have helped me in many different ways.

My cancer specialist, Dr.Shirley Murrell, my surgeon, Mr.Ward and my other specialist, Dr. Nurick. Without their help and wisdom I do not think I would be alive today. All the staff at both Hurstwood Park in Haywards Heath and the Sussex County Hospital who all played important parts during my operation and treatments. Each showed compassion whilst doing their job.

My football team mates who have encouraged me from the first day I collapsed. I am extremely thankful to everyone who helped with setting up all the charity events and to all the sponsors who gave very generously with prizes and money. I would never have raised so much money if not for the general public who attended these events. I am also thankful to the Evening Argus and the Sussex Express for their coverage of my plight. One person in particular is Maddy Maythew, a reporter on the Express, she has helped in so many different ways. Thank you Maddy for everything.

All of my friends in the USA who all helped me through some very stressful times. To all my friends and family who gave to me untold amounts of love and affection even though I pushed them away at times. I love you all and I am sorry when I made your life unbearable.

Finally to two special little girls who are very close to my heart. Firstly, to the late Nicola Walsh, who made me realise that there is always someone worse off than yourself. I will never forget you Nicola. Lastly, my little girl Stacey, she inspired me to fight harder to beat this horrific illness.

There are many more people I have missed, to you all, Thank You.