For the past seven years Anna, my wife, and I seem to have been like the pivoted figures on a Swiss cuckoo clock that move in and out to predict the weather. Shortly before Christmas 2000, at the age of 43, she was diagnosed with bowel cancer, and retreated into the shadow of illness while I “stayed out” as the public face of our marriage. Two years later, after surgery, chemotherapy, some unexplained side effects and living with an ileostomy, she seemed well on the path to recovery and ready to emerge from the gloom. She had an operation to re-connect her bowel which we hoped would mark her return to “normal” life.
But on the day following her surgery, I was diagnosed with a tumour in my own bowel. As she moved into the daylight, I retreated into the murky depths of the hospital world where I was destined to remain for an unexpectedly long time. A series of fairly catastrophic complications following surgery to remove the growth meant that I spent five months in hospital, and was left so depleted that I have spent almost five years recovering. Gradually, however, I have regained my strength and begun to resume a life that is about more than just hiding in the shadows at home. A book I have written about our experiences is due to be published in February, and I feel that at last I am starting to move back into the outside world with everyone else.
However, just as this is happening Anna is retreating once more into the shadows. This week she returns to hospital to have an ovarian cyst removed. So the countervailing pattern of our health continues, and we both find ourselves wondering when we might be able to spend some time “out” in the light together.
Still, one consolation is that this time it’s a different hospital – the gleaming glass and steel of the new University College tower in central London rather than the decaying concrete of the Royal Free in Hampstead. Since ancient times there has been a belief that life moves in seven-year cycles or “climacterics”. Perhaps this shift marks the start of a new seven-year cycle for us. If so, I only hope that it proves less gruelling and traumatic than the last.
But on the day following her surgery, I was diagnosed with a tumour in my own bowel. As she moved into the daylight, I retreated into the murky depths of the hospital world where I was destined to remain for an unexpectedly long time. A series of fairly catastrophic complications following surgery to remove the growth meant that I spent five months in hospital, and was left so depleted that I have spent almost five years recovering. Gradually, however, I have regained my strength and begun to resume a life that is about more than just hiding in the shadows at home. A book I have written about our experiences is due to be published in February, and I feel that at last I am starting to move back into the outside world with everyone else.
However, just as this is happening Anna is retreating once more into the shadows. This week she returns to hospital to have an ovarian cyst removed. So the countervailing pattern of our health continues, and we both find ourselves wondering when we might be able to spend some time “out” in the light together.
Still, one consolation is that this time it’s a different hospital – the gleaming glass and steel of the new University College tower in central London rather than the decaying concrete of the Royal Free in Hampstead. Since ancient times there has been a belief that life moves in seven-year cycles or “climacterics”. Perhaps this shift marks the start of a new seven-year cycle for us. If so, I only hope that it proves less gruelling and traumatic than the last.
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