One Lump or Two?

The date is Tuesday 19th May 1998, nothing very spectacular about it except that the weather is glorious and I have just made an important decision after Rosalynde recounted a phone call she had with Professor Steve Proctor while I was in Newcastle. Strangely enough the seed for this decision was sown last Saturday when I called at a pretty, little garden centre called 'Jan's Plants' at the small Northumberland village of Etal in North Northumberland. Jan's husband Jimmy has grown Kelso onions for years and he always keeps me a couple of boxes for our cottage garden at Kypie Farm and our other garden at Westerhope near Newcastle. After our usual friendly greetings and the question I have been asked more times than any other - 'How are you George?'. A question always asked with slight trepidation, which I readily sense but it is rewarding though to see the genuine sigh of relief when I say 'I'm fine, thanks.' Anyway, Eddie then said, 'I'm reading your book, 'Cancer is Only a Word' for the second time. I don't read all that much and usually it's just books for necessity like garden catalogues but yours is different. You have everything in your story - there's happy and sad bits; there's bits that make you laugh and bit's that make you cry; there's bits that depress you and bits that lift you up. Why don't you write another one?' I've been asked that on more than one occasion but I've always put it straight to the back of my mind partly because the amount of work involved but mainly because I haven't felt the urge or the need to do so. I also like books with happy endings and I couldn't be sure whether a sequel would have a happy ending. At this very moment and for the first time I feel both are possible. The story I am about to unfold more or less begins where the other left off. It will be written with the verbal warning that all the ingredients mentioned by Eddie will appear again, but the strongest of them all will be that of hope sprinkled with humour as events lead up to the telephone call from Steve Proctor to Rosalynde. By the time the story nears completion the outcome of that phone call should also be revealed. For people who did not have the opportunity to read my first book, 'Cancer is Only a Word', which was published in 1994 and sold out elatively quickly for a book written by an unknown and totally inexperienced 'author' it will help you to move on to the first chapter of this book if I gave a brief synopsis. 'Cancer is Only a Word' began as a diary of events, which overtook me around Easter 1988 when I found a large lump in my abdomen. This was eventually found to be non-Hodgkin's disease, a form of lymphoma which is a blood related cancer. Initially the disease was diagnosed as cancer of the pancreas and I was literally told I only had about 12 weeks to live. After a traumatic week of recovering from the biopsy and waiting for the final results, I was told it was lymphoma - I had been given a reprieve! The 'diary' was a form of therapy suggested to me by Rosalynde, my wonderful supportive wife, who has borne the burden of my illness with me for nearly 14 years, and it slowly turned into a book as one amazing thing after another took place during several recurrences of the disease. The title may sound arrogant but it was not meant to be; it was taken from a poem written by a teenager with cancer and I was very moved by her attempts to give the same inspirational message as do the following chapters. She is another success story, is now married with a family so for her cancer really was only a word.