From Diagnosis to Determination - Oesophageal Junction Cancer Diary

  The day I found out I had Cancer, I looked myself in the eyes in the mirror. I spoke to the cancer and told it ''I give you 12 months, that's it. you're not having a day more.''  I didn’t expect the second clear scan to affect me as much as it did. The first one brought relief — huge relief — but it also came with disbelief. After everything my body had been through, part of me was still waiting for the catch. Cancer teaches you to be cautious with good news, even when you’re desperate to believe it. The second set of scans felt different. This time, when I heard the words no recurrence, nothing of concern , something shifted. It wasn’t just relief — it was reassurance. A quiet, steady confidence that what we’d been through had worked, and that my body was continuing to heal. I'd kicked cancer's ass! In the days leading up to the scan, I noticed the familiar tension creeping in. I was getting on with life, feeling stronger, moving forward — but und...

  One of the hardest parts of life after cancer isn’t physical recovery — it’s learning how to live without constant fear. Even when treatment ends and scans are clear, the mind doesn’t automatically follow. Every ache, twinge or unfamiliar sensation can trigger a familiar thought: What if it’s back? This fear is common, understandable, and very human. When symptoms feel frightening After cancer, your awareness of your body is heightened. You notice things you might once have ignored — fatigue, pain, digestive changes, breathlessness, weight fluctuations. The body has been through surgery, treatment, and trauma, and it continues to adapt long after treatment finishes. Most post-cancer symptoms are not signs of recurrence. They are often the result of: Healing tissues Changed anatomy Ongoing fatigue from treatment Anxiety and stress Normal aches of everyday life But knowing this logically doesn’t always quiet the worry. Tony developed a mark on his chest, we had it ...

  Returning to the gym after chemotherapy and Ivor Lewis surgery isn’t about chasing the body you had before cancer. It’s about rebuilding trust in the body you have now, and learning to move forward with patience rather than pressure. For months, my body was focused entirely on survival. Treatment, surgery, recovery and repeat left little room for strength, stamina or routine. Muscle mass faded, weight shifted, and energy became something to conserve. The idea of exercise felt distant, even unrealistic. When recovery finally created space to think about movement again, stepping back into the gym felt both hopeful and intimidating. Those first sessions were humbling. Weights that once felt comfortable suddenly felt heavy, and cardio had to be approached carefully. Progress came in minutes rather than miles, in light resistance rather than loaded bars. But none of that meant failure. It simply reflected a body that had been through a lot and was learning again. One of the biggest...

  For a long time, joy felt like something to postpone. During treatment, life narrowed to essentials — appointments, recovery, rest. Happiness existed, but it was quiet and cautious, tucked into small moments between the hard ones. Now, on the other side of treatment, joy is returning. Not all at once, not loudly — but steadily. And that feels like a victory in itself. The gift of ordinary days One of the biggest surprises after cancer is how extraordinary ordinary life feels. A morning without an alarm for hospital appointments. A walk without counting energy levels. A meal enjoyed without fear. These moments don’t make headlines, but they carry a deep, gentle happiness. Cancer strips life back, and in doing so, it teaches you how much joy lives in the everyday. Strength you didn’t know you had Cancer forces strength on you. You don’t choose it, but you discover it — in getting up on difficult days, in trusting treatments you never wanted, in leaning on others when indepe...

  I used to wonder what it would feel like to ring the bell at the end of chemotherapy. People talk about it as a moment — a single, triumphant act. One pull of a rope, one sound, one ending. But standing there at the end of treatment, I realised it’s not just a moment. It’s a release. After seven chemotherapy cycles back to back, finishing wasn’t dramatic. It was quiet emotional in ways I didn’t expect. Getting to the end Chemotherapy slowly becomes your normal. Appointments, blood tests, side effects, recovery days that blur into the next cycle. Life shrinks to manageable units of time. You stop thinking weeks ahead. You focus on the next treatment. Then the next. By the final cycle, I wasn’t counting down with excitement — I was just determined to finish. My body was tired. My mind was foggy. But I knew I was close. When they told me, “This is your last one,” it didn’t feel real. The bell The bell wasn’t loud. But it was powerful. Ringing it wasn’t about celebration ...

  Chemotherapy isn’t one event. It’s a process — repeated, relentless, and cumulative. Having seven chemotherapy cycles back to back is not just about getting through treatment days. It’s about enduring weeks and months where recovery never fully catches up before the next round begins. As you might remember, tony's chemo was suspended in January as it caused a ''Heart Event''. We found out that he was ''handling the chemo so well'' that rather than having 4 post op chemo cycles (the normal amount) oncology added the missed cycles from January onto his post op chemo treatments. At first we thought this was a negative, maybe they think something is wrong, but they've explained it's simply a way to cover all babes and get the most from treatment. The first cycles: bracing yourself The early cycles often come with a strange mix of fear and determination. You don’t yet know how your body will react. Side effects are talked about in lists —...

  Understanding What’s Happening — and Why It Gets Better Recovering from Ivor Lewis surgery is a journey of adjustment. While much of the focus is rightly placed on healing, eating, and regaining strength, many people are surprised by changes they experience around blood sugar levels and dumping syndrome . These symptoms can feel frightening, frustrating, and confusing — especially when they arrive unexpectedly. Understanding why they happen can make them easier to manage and far less alarming. We had something of an upper hand in living with this as both my brother and I are type 1 diabetic, with a combined experience of over 40 years, we were more than prepared to recognize, and deal with, blood sugar changes. Read more here.   How Ivor Lewis surgery changes digestion Ivor Lewis surgery fundamentally alters how food moves through your body. Part or all of the oesophagus is removed, and the stomach is reshaped and repositioned. The natural “storage” and controlled rele...

  Ivor Lewis surgery is not just an operation — it’s a life-altering event. For many people, it represents hope, survival, and a chance at life beyond cancer. But what often isn’t spoken about enough is what comes after the surgery. The long, complex, deeply personal process of recovery — physically, emotionally, and mentally. Recovery doesn’t begin the day you leave hospital. In many ways, that’s when it truly starts. The early days: learning your body again After Ivor Lewis surgery, your body feels unfamiliar. Eating is no longer instinctive. Hunger cues change. Portions become smaller. Fatigue is overwhelming in a way that sleep doesn’t fix. Simple things — standing, walking, breathing deeply — can feel monumental. Pain may come and go in unexpected waves, and progress is rarely linear. Good days can be followed by setbacks, and that can be emotionally tough to process. Patience becomes essential, even when it feels impossible. Food, weight, and trust One of the biggest...

 I will be posting an update on a what to expect day to day with all of this, both from the patient's and the other person's perspectives. Before i head into writing those though there's something i feel is really important to share. Maybe someone can learn from my mistakes. We felt reallly prepared going into surgery week, we had done lots of research on the procedure, recovery, medical terms used, what pipes ro expect post surgery, monitoring for issues or complications. I'm not taking anything away from the brilliant people who work in our NHS, or drawing a paralell between me on the good old google, and someone who had an education and career in this field. Tony and i are both very information driven and ready for pretty much anything. I felt prepared. I forgot one part of all of this... I approached Tony's operation clinically, I didn't approach it as the partner of someone who was about to undergo a life changing major operation. I'm very lucky in that...

 A cancer diagnosis brings a wave of emotions—fear, hope, uncertainty—and one of the most important aspects of navigating treatment is understanding the options available. Two terms often discussed are curative and palliative treatment. While they serve different purposes, both play a vital role in improving quality of life and ensuring the best possible care for patients. Curative Treatment: Aiming for a Cure Curative cancer treatment is designed to eliminate cancer completely , giving a patient the best chance of long-term survival. The focus is on removing or destroying all cancer cells, preventing them from returning. This may involve: Surgery – Removing a tumor and surrounding affected tissue. Chemotherapy – Using powerful drugs to kill cancer cells. Radiotherapy – Targeted radiation to shrink or destroy tumors. Immunotherapy – Boosting the body's immune system to fight cancer. Curative treatment can be intense, with side effects such as fatigue, nausea, and a long recov...

    As you'll have read in my last post, I made the mistake of being too clinical in my approach to this whole thing, and the emotional and mental impact of this whole thing hit me like a train. Just as a warning, images of Tony's wounds around 7 days after surgery are shown further down in this post, I will warn closer to the time in case anyone doesn't want to see. They will be at the very bottom of the blog with a huge warning before hand.  I'm going to compress the surgery week into one blog and break it down day by day. Tony's hospital stay was for a total of 9 days, the average is 10 to 14, but many get discharged as early as 7 days post op. It all depends on how well the patient is healing. Tony's brother and partner arrived over from abroad the night before surgery so the 24 hours pre op were pretty crazy too! A brilliant way to take our minds from what was coming next. They were staying with us for 2 weeks, which was good for me as I wasn't coming h...

Embarking on the path of esophageal cancer treatment can be daunting, with surgical interventions often being central to the journey. One such procedure, the Ivor Lewis esophagectomy, stands out due to its complexity and significance. Let's delve into what this surgery entails, its purpose, and the road to recovery. What is an Ivor Lewis Esophagectomy? An Ivor Lewis esophagectomy is a surgical technique primarily used to treat cancer located in the middle or lower sections of the esophagus. This procedure involves the removal of the affected portion of the esophagus and the upper part of the stomach, followed by reconstructing the digestive tract to maintain its functionality. The Surgical Steps: Navigating the Procedure The surgery is typically performed in two main stages: Abdominal Phase : Surgeons begin by making an incision in the abdomen to access and mobilize the stomach. This step ensures that the stomach can be reshaped into a conduit to replace the removed esophagus. Thor...

 Hey! It's been a while! So since we last posted we've been getting ready for surgery. I'll write another post shortly about the surgery and explore that in more detail. We've had 2 meetings with the surgical team since we got the go ahead for the surgery, one with the surgical team, and one with the surgeon who will be performing Tony's operation. I've mentioned in previous posts that compared to the Oncology side of things, the surgical team seem to be a lot less..... Fluffy, shall we say. We had been warned to leave surgical appoinments feeling like you've been hit by a train or swamped with negative stuff, and our first appointment certainly did! The Doctor we saw for the first appointment  seemed to be pushing us towards a palliative treatment plan, rather than the curative one our oncologist recommended. He wasnt happy that Tony hadn't had the prescribed 4 rounds of chemo pre op, and called the surgery ''sub-optimal''. We found this...