Thursday, 29^th January 2026. I was meant to start the fourth cycle of my latest chemotherapy regimen. It didn’t happen though. That’s because my treatment has had to be paused after I recently ended up in hospital with pancreatitis and colitis.

Two separate adverse events brought on by my cancer treatment. It happens, especially when treatments such as chemo and immunotherapy are used in combination. It was a risk that we had to take, but it didn’t work on this occasion, and since immunotherapy is likely the main culprit in this, that treatment will also now be stopped.

In truth, I feel okay about the immunotherapy stopping at this stage. I have had it now for 21 months, just three shy of the two-year maximum I would’ve been kept on it if I could have tolerated the side-effects.

Most immunotherapy treatments are capped at two years or 35 cycles. I’ve had 32 cycles, and so, having any more is unlikely to significantly improve outcomes. Plus, many patients continue to experience benefits after stopping. Hopefully, I can be one of those patients.

I have had disease progression twice during the past two years, the latest of which requires additional treatment. The cancer has never stopped responding though, and so I’m grateful for that. I always prefer to look at what’s gone well, rather than what hasn’t.

There’s always going to be something that goes wrong. I think that is to be expected. Cancer treatment isn’t perfect. Far from it. As always, I just like to face each challenge head-on as it arises. This latest hospital challenge was certainly a challenge. I was hooked up to intravenous fluids and steroids. I had severe pain, nausea and sickness, diarrhea… I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. I was in a bad way.

The great cancer crisis

Not only that, but in the past three months, I’ve had to deal with artharalgia, adrenal crisis, metastasis (cancer spread), pancreatitis, colitis, chemo, two hospital stays… it’s a lot. It didn’t help on this occasion that the cancer wards were full, with people backed up in the emergency assessment unit waiting for beds.

I wonder if this is becoming more common as cancer cases grow. The cancer ward is quite small really compared with the problem that seems to be growing every day. There is a major new £30 million cancer research and treatment building named after Sir Bobby Robson set to be built at the Freeman Hospital in Newcastle. The same hospital my uncle received pioneering treatment in the early 1970s, which kept him alive for 19 years after they told him there was nothing they could do.

That is a big boost for cancer and the northeast of England. Evidence confirms that cancer care in England is facing a significant crisis, with performance indicators showing that it is lagging behind other comparable high-income nations in terms of treatment speed and patient survival rates. 

That makes me sad when I think of the treatment my uncle received. Why have we fallen so far behind other countries. Research indicates that cancer survival in the UK is about 10 to 15 years behind leading countries, such as Australia, Canada, and Norway. And the problem is only getting worse.  2024 saw 74,000 cancer patients failing to start treatment on time.

It simply isn’t good enough. When I think that I first reported symptoms three years prior to my diagnosis, it’s hard not to wonder what might have been. Still, I don’t think about that now. It isn’t helpful. I’m only facing forward now. Live in the present because the past has already happened and can’t be changed, no matter how much we might want things to be different. I only have so much energy and so I need to focus it on the things I can control. That’s one of the ways that I won’t let cancer beat me.

Once I got my diagnosis though, I was treated within three weeks with chemotherapy. It was the wrong chemotherapy to be given, but I still have no doubt that it kept me alive. I was also given as little as three months to live when the reality is I’ve been alive for nearly three years now. I don’t take a single day for granted. I know that I’m more fortunate than some who are struggling to access the treatment. A new strategy is needed.

Naturally, some worry exists about pausing my chemo at such a critical point. And yet, scheduled, short-term, or doctor-approved chemotherapy breaks are generally safe and common. Necessary even, and there are many reasons for pausing treatment. Often, as a result of the toxicity of the drugs that need to be managed. The body can need time to recover. I need time to recover.

One thing I will say is that, it’s important not to view breaks as a sign of failure or a setback; they are a routine part of managing treatment. The aim for me is just not to have the break go on for too long, certainly no more than six weeks, really no more than three. Ideally, just two. That’s what I’m aiming for. That’s what I’ve told my oncologist.

I’m feeling stronger every day. It isn’t just that though. I’m on high dose steroids, and it wouldn’t be ideal to resume while on such a high dose. I have started tapering down from these but, currently it is only every seven days and so I would still be on a relatively high dose in two weeks’ time.

The reason for this is that, while steroids are frequently used to manage cancer treatment side effects, their ability to reduce immune system activity means they can affect your white blood cell count, and increase your risk of infection. This would mean a further delay in treatment. I don’t want that.

Still, instead of having my planned chemo that day, I went in for blood tests. The positive news is that these all came back fine. That should allow us to speed up the tapering process, perhaps to every five days at least, which would help me hit my target of two weeks.

More than this can start to impact the effectiveness of the treatment.  Again, it feels like a risk to restart in two weeks, but then, we’ve always taken small risks if it will push me and the treatment. I think you have to.

These are considered carefully though. I’m not going to do anything that isn’t safe or might put me in danger. I always speak with my oncologist about these and remain under supervision. I believe that it’s my positive mindset that pushes me on through the treatment and helps manage events like this one. At the end of the day, it’s my oncologists’ decision, but we share a similar outlook.

He treats me as a patient, not a statistic or a disease. I’m not an older patient. I’m relatively fit and healthy. Apart from the obvious. I should find out today what the plan is going to be, so be sure to check my Facebook profile later for an update. If you’re not already following me, you can do so here:

https://www.facebook.com/share/1KApAh5t2j/

I’m trying to get up to 1,000 followers. I don’t exactly know why, but it feels like a good number to me. I’m proud of the space I’ve created for myself and for all of you. It might be small, but it’s honest. Plus, it means I can actually interact with the people who message me. That has been the best thing for me, and make no mistake, I get as much from you as you might get from me.

When stability becomes a habit

Right now, the new cancer spread has shown no sign of disease progression. It hasn’t shown any sign of shrinkage either though which is what I would like to see. Still, I’m very happy with the results so far because it is unexpected.

The abdominal wall is a really difficult place to treat cancer without surgery or targeted treatment. I’m not eligible for either because I’m stage 4. Something else I don’t agree with. If there is treatment that could extend my life, I would like to think I could access it. As it is, I would have to go private. This is always an option I will consider if needed. Even if the treatment was in another country. I will do whatever it takes.

We’re not in that place though. Not today. I feel strong. I feel positive. I’ve let my team know what I want to happen, and it’s over to them now. I’ve never felt like a passenger in my own cancer journey. Always speak up. Question everything. Knowledge provides a sense of control, which can often be lost. Things feel like they’re heading in the right direction again, although further setbacks could be expected. Deal with setbacks as they happen.

There is no point imagining what could happen. Anything could happen. It’s a wild ride. Not for the faint-hearted. The future isn’t written yet.