So the truth can finally be revealed, I am officially a NED - Susan Morrison
There’s a bilious green A4 folder on my shelf. It’s my ‘cancer file’. I started it when I was told I had breast cancer in 2018. The NHS just loves a letter and a leaflet, so I thought I should file them.
Of course, I didn’t realise that the file would grow like a sort of tumour. I had to add dividers, because in 2019 they found bowel cancer. A new section was added in 2020 when they broke the news that the cancer had spread into my liver and right lung. In 2021 it was the turn of the left lung.
It’s surprisingly organised for me. A neat paper trail of treatments. Every step of the battle the NHS fought for me is noted.
There are appointment letters for surgeries in 2018, 2019, 2020 (twice) and 2021. Five major operations in short order. I had hoped a sixth would have meant a free cappuccino in Starbucks.
There are the letters and schedules for chemotherapy, radiotherapy, medications, consultations and, of course, the regular scans to make sure the beast was quiet.
On June 16 I had another scan. Last week I saw my oncologist. My scan was clear. They’ve been clear since 2021, which means I am a patient showing ‘no evidence of disease’.
The NHS loves an acronym as much as a leaflet, which means I am technically a NED. Well, there’s a lot of people who would agree with that.
Not only that, but given the time since the last surgery, Lesley, my fantastic oncologist, said she felt there was no need for any further scans. She had, and I quote,'no further concerns' about me.
Now that’s debatable. There are people who have raised concerns about me just crossing the road, but that’s not Lesley’s remit. She sensibly confines herself to cancer, which is notably not reappearing.
It's a curious beast, secondary cancer. It's a bespoke condition, with each patient basically carrying their very own, fiendish, highly personalised cancers, all mutuating and growing in relentless different ways. Even after treatments and surgeries, they pop up again.
Colorectal cancers tend to make their presence known really quickly. Sometimes, though, once the surgeons get in there and evict the little terrors, they just don’t reappear. This is what happened to me.
Quite why this happens is still a mystery. It’s a bit of a shock to discover that medical science actually doesn't have all the answers, but they are on the case.
Millions of pounds are being poured into research to beat stage four cancers. Keep buying those cardigans from the Cancer Research UK shops, people. Every pair of pre-loved jeans sold funds a boffin peering down a microscope looking for those answers.
And they are finding those answers. There really are new treatments appearing for oncologists to deploy. Things are changing remarkably fast, so if you or anyone you know is getting news like this, please remember, don’t look at Google. You will, I know you will, but take great care over those statistics.
There is hope, and it lies with those people on those letters in my A4 folder. They do not give up. They got me to the day when Lesley could look at closing that file. I’m incredibly thankful to even get this far.