I guess there is no easy way for a doctor to tell you that you have a cancerous lesion on your head.
He did his best and in a clearly rehearsed speech he told me what to expect from my next visit to the hospital. It was at this point that it dawned on me that things would be a little different going forward.
With my genetics and my family history it was inevitable that at some point I would end up having the ‘C’ conversation but I had hoped I would get a few more years in first!
Now don’t get me wrong I’m not at all bothered by my ‘skin condition’, my father has been having bumps and bits and even fingers removed for years. He has dealt with these inconveniences in the same way he responded to the last 17 years of non-Hodgkins lymphoma. He’s just got on with it!
But this was me and for the first time in my life I considered what could happen, and it made me feel uncomfortable.
With the ride looming this couldn’t have come at a worse time or actually having had time to reflect, it couldn’t have come at a better time.
The position of the lesion is where my cycling helmet sits and therefore having it removed would make wearing the helmet difficult and healing could be disrupted. Also, if I did need a small skin graft then coming from my posterior could also be a problem as I currently have a bottom like a baboon from all the cycling.
Despite everything, training has to continue and Friday saw 11 of our cycling group out on a training ride. Having felt a little below par I hadn’t looked forward to the ride.
It’s almost inevitable that when a group of men get together they automatically assume the age of the youngest member of the group, in our case Lee’s 21 year old son, Matty.
To cut a long story short Mike had accidentally handed his cycling gear to the local charity shop who had promptly sold it. (Details to follow in a later blog), anyway the ribbing Mike received was merciless. The charity shop in question was Shelter, the homeless charity, and all day stories of the less fortunate walking around in mikes gear came out.
Mikes expensive cycling helmet had gone, a state of the art electronic helmet with radio Bluetooth and phone capabilities. It had taken the best part of 6 months for him to ‘pair’ his helmet to his phone. We had visions of some homeless guy hearing voices from his new hat as he intercepted Mikes phone calls.
82 miles and several hours later we arrived home having laughed non stop.
Now they say there is no greater therapy than time spent with good friends and I for one could not agree more.
Fridays ride was a great opportunity to hit the reset button and from here it’s onwards and upwards.
Oh and if you see a homeless person in Mikes kit, please buy it back for him.
The reluctant cyclist
Wrexham to Gibraltar Charity Cycle Ride