A tale of two cancers

I was at a fairly swanky dinner party, four couples all getting along fine. The other three gents ran successful businesses; I was feeling outclassed. The conversation turned to the NHS; we all told stories. They moved on to telling us what was wrong. Not what was wrong in their opinion, but stated as fact. Mostly they were talking about A&E. They pronounced with all the arrogance of the successful.

Keir Starmer has set a target for the NHS that all cancer patients must be treated within two months. Lofty ideas, but my experience might be illustrative.

I had the experience of having two cancers. Because I’m special.

First, I had skin cancer: Bowen’s Disease. It’s benign and often clears up on its own. I was given cream and an appointment, in nine months’ time. I was told to cancel if the cream worked. It didn’t work, and at the appointment the dermatologist gave me stronger cream and told me to come back in six months if that didn’t work. It did work and all is well on that front.

I also had an unexplained weight loss and went to see my GP. I am now sure she suspected cancer and immediately ordered blood tests. 48 hours later I sat in the surgery to be told I had pancreatic cancer. Two days after that I was in the local hospital for a CT scan, Endoscopy and a biopsy. Which confirmed that I had a tumour on my pancreas and that it had spread to my peritoneum. Hospice care was initiated.

Which speed of response was correct? They both were.

This fun time was followed by a bout of Pancreatitis – not recommended – where I enjoyed the hospitality of the local hospital and spent five days before I was allowed food and seven days before I was sent home. Missing a family wedding in the process; I was very annoyed as I’d bought a fancy waistcoat and a dinner jacket for the thing.

In the course of my hospital stay I was subjected to several other scans and test procedures.

I also saw first-hand the problem of bed blockers: my ward had six beds, two of which could not be discharged without a care package in place. The care package failure kept two men in expensive hospital beds when they should have been at home.

There are 215 NHS trusts in the UK, each with a great number of separate clinics, test facilities and dispensaries, all of whom have different operating criteria and different measures of success. My experience was totally well managed and easy to navigate. To put simplistic targets on this complex beast misunderstands the nature of healthcare and varied outcomes which produce a complex matrix of management issues and patient needs. We need to stop knocking the NHS and help it to survive and thrive.

Before all this happened, I attended a funeral. For the first time it struck me as particularly distasteful that we sat in a church with a dead body in a box.

I determined that I would not want that for myself so I made arrangements to donate my body to medicine. This is a decision I made before I heard about my cancer and eventual death. The final decision lies with my wife – my executor – but without my express permission it cannot happen. I found the details on the Royal College of Physicians website.

After the medics have used my body, it can be buried or cremated as usual.

I have had fantastic care because surgeons and medical students have bodies to practise on. It would be foolish to starve them of that opportunity.

We all need to champion and care for our NHS; it is a precious and valuable thing. One only has to look at the shit show that is US healthcare to appreciate what we have. I am encouraged that Wes Streeting took time to visit other countries and see what he could learn. I hope he will also spend time visiting the best performing NHS Trusts to learn from them. There are 32 countries providing some form of universal healthcare: they must have lessons to teach us. The lessons are all there.

Mr Streeting stands out in a lacklustre front bench, let’s hope he can navigate the complex task ahead, and that he is allowed to do some good.

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