Chapter 17
A few days later, and the multidisciplinary team meeting had taken place, with a follow-up appointment with the consultant urologist, to talk everything through with Will.
He and Cath were now back at his house, after the hospital trip, Cath still feeling a whirl of emotions.
Will had asked that Cath be with him at the hospital meeting this time, which had felt like a major step forward.
She was so pleased that he’d wanted and trusted her to be there.
That he’d realised the strength of her commitment and love, and that they could move forward as a team on this.
There was so much to take in, however. The decision to be made was a difficult one.
It was tough hearing about the delicate operation to remove the prostate and its likely side-effects, and the alternatives – or follow up, if required – of radiotherapy options, along with hormone therapy.
She could almost feel Will cringing beside her on learning how it might affect him.
There was, of course, no easy fix. The consultant and specialist nurse gave their opinions, and their best advice formed by years of experience.
And then, the decision was ultimately Will’s to make.
Even before this meeting, he’d practically decided that surgery was the way forward for him – getting the cancer out there and then, in one go, was his way of thinking – but the team had advised him to go home and carefully consider his options.
The implications would affect his future, his life. All of their lives.
‘Shall we escape to the sea?’ he asked her, as she was about to offer to make coffee, which seemed to be her default action these days.
‘Are you planning to take me on a cruise?’ Cath jested fondly.
‘I wish. Well, that would be rather nice,’ he responded. ‘But I might miss my rather important date with the surgeon.’
‘Who might yet be a machine …’
‘Yeah, that was a bit weird when they said it might be a robot doing keyhole.’
‘It’s a whole new world these days.’
‘As long as he … it, I suppose, does a good job, I don’t really care. Bring it on. Anyway, I’m downgrading my offer to fish and chips and a walk on the seafront.’
‘Ah, okay. That does sound a fine idea, actually.’ Something normal in the new scary world of tackling cancer they’d found themselves in.
Cath had to admit, the four walls of his kitchen, with the photos of Jane and the girls (who still didn’t know a thing about all this), were making her already mushed-up brain feel a bit overcrowded.
The sea air might help clear both their heads.
She could still smell the clinical aroma of the hospital on them. It’d whip that away, for sure.
*
Will had grabbed a few essentials, changed his shoes to trainers, and snatched up his car keys.
They’d then paused at Cath’s cottage so she could do the same.
Now, as they rounded the moorland hill that led down to the A1, the North Sea was in their sights.
An indigo-blue strip drawing them enticingly to it, there on the horizon, past a zig-zag of green fields, and beyond the towering outline of Bamburgh Castle.
‘Seahouses for fish and chips?’ he suggested. ‘They have the best ones there. Sat on the harbour, and straight out of the bag.’
‘Oh, yes. Happy with that. You so know how to spoil a girl.’ She gave a grin.
Sitting with piping hot, salt-and-vinegared, crispy fish and chips on their laps, whilst looking out over the fishing and tourist boats bobbing in the harbour, they chatted. Will was going to phone the consultant first thing in the morning. His decision on proceeding with surgery was final.
With a couple of hours yet to spare this afternoon, Will having asked Josh to fill in at the cycle shop today, they decided to take a drive further along the coast. It was only fifteen more minutes to get to Low Newton.
The beach was so lovely there for a walk, and Will suggested they might go and check the beach bungalow, having popped the hut keys in his pocket, back at the house, just in case.
They stopped to buy soft drinks at the village shop in Beadnell en route, thinking that it might be nice to sit outside on the deck for a while.
Strolling the sands holding hands – which meant so much more now, togetherness …
support … I’m here – and with no rush at all, they took in the summer sights and sounds feeling the sea breeze on their skin.
They then headed up the wonky wooden steps, away from the families and the dog walkers and the holidaymakers into what they now felt was their special part of the dunes.
And there it was, Will’s wooden hut, which today especially very much felt like a haven.
Unlocking the door to the bungalow, Cath was relieved to see it mice-free – woohoo!
– and just as they had left it those few weeks ago, when they’d all been there for the glorious paella day.
Those happy, easy-going days would come again, Cath buoyed herself with the thought.
Even in the midst of uncertainty and Will’s difficult medical choices, they would continue to find moments of joy.
Cath was more determined than ever to seek them out.
The sun streamed onto the deck, in contrast to the rather cool and dark interior, so they took the two director’s chairs back out with them, and Cath fetched a couple of glasses for their drinks.
As they settled down, sipping refreshing ginger beer, looking out to sea, Will began to open up. ‘Did you hear the nurse suggesting I give it a name, my cancer?’
‘Oh, yes, … r-ight.’ It was coming back to her now. It had sounded rather odd at the time.
‘Apparently, it makes it less scary. I wondered about Colin.’
‘Well, it’s certainly not a scary kind of name, but it does make me think about cake and caterpillars,’ said Cath, with a wry expression.
‘Ah, yes, hadn’t thought about that. Better not desecrate Colin the Caterpillar, that was always the girls’ favourite birthday cake.’
This was such a bizarre conversation to be having pre-surgery. But weirdly it was actually helping to lift the mood.
‘I’ve got it!’ he announced. ‘Clive. I’m gonna kick Clive’s ass the hell out of here,’ he said with an American drawl.
‘Yep, that works.’ She couldn’t help but smile.
And they sat there grinning and sipping ginger beer in the sun, amidst the worry, the pain and confusion, the what-ifs and the what-nexts.
Will then puffed out a slow sigh. ‘Ah, but it’s a real shame that all this, here, is going to have to be on hold for a bit.
My dreams of doing up the bungalow this summer are pretty much stalled.
’ The reality of his surgery and the time he’d need for recovery, that he’d learned in much more detail today, was sinking in.
‘It might be weeks until I’m able to get back to any physical work. Bastard Clive.’
‘Hey, there’s no need to pressure yourself with any of this, my love, the renovations can wait. And this bungalow has been standing a long time, in a far worse condition. It’s been waiting years for its second chapter, a couple more months won’t hurt.’
‘Well, my heart’s not really been in it these last few weeks, I suppose. And today, finding out how I’m likely to feel post-op, well, I’ll hardly be able to get to work in the cycle shop for a while, let alone do any painting and decorating.’
‘It’ll be frustrating, for sure. But you really don’t want to be taking on too much, too soon.
After that op, you’ll need to give yourself the chance to heal.
That’s the most important thing.’ She reached a hand to brush his bare forearm, reassuringly.
‘And all this’ – she gestured at the wooden hut – ‘it’ll still be here, when you’re feeling back to yourself again.
Doing the place up, well, it’ll be something to look forward to.
At least the main structural repairs are done.
That was such a good move, getting the roof sorted.
And you said the joiner’ll be back next week to fix those last rotten slats.
It’ll stay sound. So, there’s no need to pressure yourself. ’ Cath was ever the voice of reason.
‘Yeah, you’re right …’ he conceded, glancing back inside with a longing gaze, as though he wished he could wave a magic wand over it all and transform it, there and then.
‘Give it time …’ added Cath, gently. She meant the hut, and his healing.
Will looked right at her, his beautiful hazel-brown eyes seeming troubled.
His real fears bubbling to the surface. ‘I can’t knock the NHS, but having been through that hell with Jane, I just want it out.
It’s a nightmare knowing I’m walking around with a cancer inside me.
I mean what the hell are those cells doing right now?
I want it over with. The op. Like, let’s get on with it, get the bloody cancer out of my body, so it can’t cause any more trouble. ’
‘Yeah, I can understand that.’ Her tone was gentle, caring. After everything he’d been through with his wife, it must be extraordinarily tough to know you had cancer, too. To be reliving that nightmare. But this was different, she told herself. Will’s cancer was very different.
‘If it’s still to be two weeks yet …’ – which was what the consultant had mentioned – ‘then they’re going to seem bloody long ones,’ he admitted.
‘For sure. But you’ve got your work to focus on.
And you can maybe do some of your shorter cycle rides.
’ She didn’t want him to overdo it with his long-haul trails, right now.
He may not have had many symptoms, but he needed to keep sound and look after himself before surgery. ‘And hey, I’ll be around too.’
He nodded, but didn’t look convinced. Naturally, he was bound to be so very worried about everything yet to come.
In contrast to the storms they were facing within, it was a beautiful afternoon at the bay, with only a few wisps of cloud streaking the azure sky.
If they’d have thought about it, and brought a few practical things with them, it might have been nice to stay over.
Watch the sky melt into the flame colours of sunset, listen to the gulls and the hush of the waves as dusk fell, Cath thought longingly, and stay up to watch the stars come out.
Oh, and then, make the most of the sofa bed. While everything was as it was …
Cath took a slow breath. Making love might change very much for them.
They’d been informed by the specialist nurse, that after surgery it might be several weeks before Will might begin to feel like sex, and even then, physically it was likely to be a very different experience, with erection problems and urine leakage – the joys – to contend with.
Will had seemed to shrink into himself in the consulting room at that point.
The physical and mental impacts were not going to be easy or pleasant for him.
Cath had already looked up the likely side-effects online, too.
Soaking in every grain of knowledge, spending ages on the Prostate Cancer UK site which was so helpful; reading the blogs of prostate cancer survivors, and learning about their experiences, the problems with peeing, the inevitable loss of libido, dealing with erectile dysfunction … It didn’t make for easy reading.
What fate lay in store for her gorgeous Will?
She couldn’t help but worry for him. But hey, she told herself, any of that could be countered, be given time to heal, if they could only stop the cancer in its tracks.
Keep Will safe, alive and well. Give him, them, their future back. That was the name of the game here.
They’d face what they had to, together, one day at a time, resolved Cath.
Trying to be more positive, she suggested, ‘We could maybe come back over this weekend? Make a small start here. Maybe paint the loo, or something, on your next day off. Perhaps tie it in with when the joiner’s here doing those repairs.
If you promise not to take on too much.’ It might well help take his mind off things.
He gave a small smile. ‘Yes, shall we come back? Make a start … And, we could have that night over here, whilst the weather is warm, and before …’
Before it all changes … they were both thinking.