Phil McGough, Sunderland

I was diagnosed with stage 3 bowel cancer, aged 69 in September 2021.

I’d been having a little discomfort, a niggle, in my abdomen for a while – it disappeared when I went to the toilet but always came back. But sometimes not for days.

It felt similar to the pain of wind build-up. I wasn’t particularly worried, but I rang the doctor because I was on lansoprazole for acid reflux and high cholesterol. My prescription had recently been increased so I had read that it could be a side effect. The doctor suggested I do a stool test which I returned to the surgery that day. That was on the Monday and by Thursday I had collapsed.

I woke up that morning to a dull ache in my abdomen. It was still nothing much, just a discomfort. Then I found I couldn't complete my usual morning bowel movement and started to feel not right. A short while later I just felt all I wanted to do was lie down and I collapsed onto our bed.

Earlier in December 2020 I had had a heart attack, and so my wife thought it may be happening again. Neither of us imagined that it might be cancer. My wife phoned 999 and paramedics arrived on the scene. They performed an ECG and confirmed my heart was well and my 4 stents were probably still in place and therefore not the cause of my discomfort. One of the paramedics contacted my GP when I mentioned the stool test I’d done earlier in the week and he urged them to take me straight to A&E as he hadn’t had the results back yet but was concerned. He actually received the results that afternoon and I later learned he had been trying to contact me (not knowing that I was in surgery) to check I had gone to A&E as the test showed signs of bowel cancer.

The staff at the hospital didn’t know that and were reasonably sure I was suffering from irritable bowel syndrome (IBS). There was also concern that the abdominal aortic aneurysm stent I had had fitted a few years earlier may have been leaking. I suspect they would have sent me home if I had not, without any warning (and without giving too much graphic detail), erupted fountains of blood from my mouth and 'rear end' simultaneously. Then everything changed with doctors and nurses running around sticking tubes and wires into me left, right and centre.

The next thing I remember is waking up in a critical care ward, two days later. The surgeon came in and explained I had a large tumour removed from my bowel and, at the time, thought I had stage 4 bowel cancer with a stoma fitted (a what?? I'd never even heard of one! And what did stage 4 mean?). I could hardly move; I was feeling incredibly weak but could still feel all the dressings around my middle and the various tubes in my arms, up my nose and down my throat, and grafted into my chest. It was a very scary experience, but the staff at Sunderland Royal were just brilliant. So caring and comforting. One particularly wonderful nurse from Singapore brought me down to earth with her great terminology and while changing my dressings described my stoma as my 'bum on tum'! The term has stuck and explains it brilliantly to those who wonder what's happened to me.

It was later confirmed after a number of CT scans that my cancer was 'only' stage 3 and my surgeon was confident I didn't need to go down the chemotherapy route just yet especially as I also had trauma induced kidney failure. But they would complete regular checks on me over the months to come.

I was discharged from hospital after a month, having also been on oxygen because I caught pneumonia while I was there! I had a physiotherapist to help me learn to walk again and was in a wheelchair for almost another month when I got home. It turned out that I had also developed acute kidney disease and so I was given dialysis three times a week leading up to Christmas when I was given the good news that I didn't need to attend anymore as my kidneys had started to mostly function again. I had to sleep downstairs on a sofa until we were able to get a stairlift as I couldn’t manage the stairs and shuffled around on a Zimmer frame.

This all went on until mid-December when I had a gastroscopy because I couldn’t eat. I kept 'gagging' on food as if there was something stuck in my throat and lost three and a half stones. I was surviving on protein drinks. This resulted in a three-day hospital stay because the four biopsies they took from my stomach wouldn't stop bleeding. A week later I was back in hospital with an unexplained huge drop in my blood pressure and a ridiculously high pulse rate. Another four-day hospital 'break'. Thankfully since then I seem to be in recovery. My wife calls me a cat with nine lives!

I'm really pleased to say that with the fantastic help and treatment I have received from all the departments that have been looking after me for the past few years at Sunderland Royal (Vascular, Metabolic, Cardiology, Renal, Colorectal... I think the only one I haven't attended is Maternity!) I'm able to live a pretty much normal life. There is even a suggestion that I might be suitable for stoma reversal, fingers crossed. I've no idea why I have survived so many 'traumas' whilst others have lost their battles. It seems so unfair. My heart goes out to all of you who going through the awful scourge that is bowel cancer.

I’ve since written to my local MP about raising awareness of the importance of stool tests – and the availability of them. I had a letter back saying that the health minister is taking it very seriously but I would like to see more evidence of this – I’m going to write back because I know how vital this really is.

Having this diagnosis has changed my awareness of who I am and my life. When I was diagnosed, they thought at first that I had stage 4 which I believe would have been “thank you and good night” as it were. Although the cancer has affected other parts of my body, doctors have told me they’re 99.9% sure they got it all. I feel I have what I believe is known as ‘survivors’ syndrome' –that feeling of guilt and deep emotion.  ‘I should be dead. Somehow I’m not, but others are!’. It makes me think of the people in similar situations who didn’t make it, the people raising money for their loved ones. It’s a strange thing to experience and to think about.

In a way, not much has changed for me – it certainly did for a while, of course! – but I’m happy doing my garden, my woodworking. I don’t think all the people I know realise how serious it all was, or perhaps they don’t want to, perhaps it’s a coping mechanism. Cancer is still a 'dirty' word for some. Really, it’s odd to think I’m reasonably fit and healthy once more. And I don’t say any of this is to my credit. It is entirely down to the wonderful 'Chief Nurse' (my wife, Chris) and the NHS team, the people who have got me to where I am today. Much love and many thanks to them all.

Listen to Phil talk about how he changes his stoma bag by watching the video below.