Patrick Wymer, Penarth
Patrick shared their story with us in 2018. Sadly Patrick passed away in January 2020. The following article was originally published in January 2018.
In June 2017, I was diagnosed with stage 4 bowel cancer. It had spread to my lungs and liver.
A month earlier, I went to see my GP as I was experiencing persistent stomach pains. In hindsight I had at least two of the classic bowel cancer symptoms for a while: weight loss and more frequent and looser bowel movements.
Being quite slim and never having had a weight problem, the former went largely unnoticed, while the latter I put down to possibly Irritable Bowel Syndrome or a food allergy.
I’ve always been in good health, in over 30 years of working I’d only ever taken a handful of days off sick and rarely seen my doctor. I regarded myself as pretty much indestructible. It never occurred to me that there was anything seriously wrong and I probably didn’t make that crucial doctor’s appointment soon enough.
Anyway, my GP examined me and I was reassured when he told me that I probably didn’t have one of the “nasties”. Nevertheless, he felt it needed further investigation and referred me to a specialist through my company’s private medical cover. After a consultation and further examination, I was booked in for a colonoscopy in mid-June. The pains were not acute at that stage – so far so good.
However, things escalated quickly and I made two visits to A&E, only to be sent packing on both occasions with nothing more than pain killers. I was beginning to feel desperate.
It was early evening on Saturday 10 June and still six days to wait for my colonoscopy. My condition had worsened, I couldn’t eat, was throwing up when I did and my poo was pure liquid. So, a third trip to A&E. Sometime after midnight I saw a doctor and following an examination, a scan was booked for Sunday morning - Hallelujah!
I was wheeled off to an assessment unit and my wife Sarah went home. Around Sunday lunchtime, a junior doctor gave me some welcome news, the scan showed that I had appendicitis! It was being treated as an emergency and I was to have an operation in the next 24 hours. Huge relief all round, cheery texts were fired off to anxious family members and I envisaged a week off work with my feet up in the sunshine before returning to normal life.
I regarded myself as pretty much indestructible. It never occurred to me that there was anything seriously wrong
In the middle of the night another doctor woke me. A further review of the scan suggested things may be more serious than first thought, so the plan was to perform more invasive surgery to check things out fully. The word stoma was mentioned for the first time, though the chances of me requiring one were apparently remote. I signed the consent forms and told them to do whatever was necessary.
I came round from the operation early on Monday, a nurse looking down at me. I immediately recalled the bleary late-night conversation with the doctor and was desperate to know what had happened. The same doctor appeared and explained that a large tumour together with a chunk of my bowel had been removed. It was likely that the tumour was cancerous and yes, I now had a stoma.
I was transferred to a ward and at some stage Sarah returned, still believing I’d had a routine appendix op. My surgeon visited us. He confirmed what I already knew, but also dealt a knockout blow - it was probable that further cancer remained and I would need chemotherapy.
I spent the next eight days in hospital recovering and taking a crash course in stoma management under the expert guidance of Sharon, my wonderful stoma nurse. The care I received there was superb and I’m so grateful to the nurses who looked after me.
As you can imagine this was a difficult time as the family tried to come to terms with what had happened. We were on a steep learning curve, constantly bombarded with new information and unfamiliar jargon. I was obsessed with my stoma, in fact far more than I was with the cancer – I loathed the sight of it and couldn’t contemplate living with it.
Soon after returning home I received the dreaded call formally confirming that the tumour was cancerous. I had a further scan and attended a clinic to meet my oncologist for the first time. More bad news – the scan confirmed that the disease had spread to my liver and almost certainly to my lungs as well: STAGE 4 BOWEL CANCER.
I was obsessed with my stoma, in fact far more than I was with the cancer
Since my diagnosis I’ve been treated at the excellent Velindre Cancer Centre in Cardiff. I’ve received regular chemotherapy which seems to be keeping the disease in check for now. The side effects are tough, but I’m determined to stick with it for as long as the treatment is working.
I've now come to accept my illness and I'm enjoying life again doing many of the things I did previously. I’ve had to give up work, but I’ve become increasingly involved in the bowel cancer world, through my blog, fundraising and raising awareness of the disease.
I’m realistic about my prognosis, but I do retain some hope. The challenge for me is to maintain a balance between over optimism and passively surrendering to my illness. It's not always easy but I think I'm doing pretty well.
Patrick blogged on: www.bowelcancerman.wordpress.com
