Christmas at The Christie - Michael Seaton

Michael Seaton, Christie patient

Michael Seaton

In December 2013 I was diagnosed with late stage 2 non-seminoma testicular cancer and bizarrely I was not surprised.

 

I had an obvious lump, but I had never mentioned this to my GP, mainly due to embarrassment and worrying about having to take time off work - both fairly stupid reasons with hindsight.

 

What I had told him about were some of my other symptoms, like shortness of breath, sudden weight loss, abdominal pain not unlike irritable bowel syndrome, difficulty keeping food down and what seemed like a kidney stone.

 

I had tried various medications to tackle these with varying degrees of success. My GP eventually referred me to the gastroenterology unit at Macclesfield District General Hospital, for a double endoscopy/colonoscopy session, something I was not looking forward to. 

 

Fortunately, someone at Macclesfield had the bright idea of putting me through a CT scanner. I presumably ‘lit up like fairy lights on a Christmas tree’, judging by the phone calls I had later that day in quick succession to cancel the endoscopy/colonoscopy (phew!) and arrange an appointment with a urologist to sort out an orchidectomy.

 

Eight days later, I was on the operating table at Stepping Hill hospital to have the primary tumour and my left testicle removed. The original plan was for me to go home the following day and recover over Christmas before starting chemotherapy in the New Year.

 

Unfortunately, my secondary tumours had other ideas. What should have been an overnight stay turned into four days with infections making me rather unwell and not fit to return home. One of the tumours was partially blocking my left kidney, which meant having a nephrostomy (a narrow tube) inserted into my side to help drain it. The stoma bag surrounding the tube needed replacing every couple of days or so, which meant this was the bane of my existence for six months! The antibiotics I received to deal with the infections also gave me candida (oral thrush), which made eating quite difficult.

 

Clearly I was not doing very well and a decision was made that my chemotherapy could not wait until 2014 and I had to have some as soon as possible. So on a wet and chilly Monday morning, I was put into a wheelchair and bundled into an ambulance. About twenty minutes later, I was helped into The Christie, which (as it turned out) would be as near to a second home as I would get for the following four months or so.

 

I was going to receive a three-day course of some EP (cisplatin and etoposide) chemotherapy to start attacking the troublesome secondary tumours. This would be a stopgap before I started the main 5-day BEP (bleomycin, etoposide, and cisplatin) regimen in mid-January.

 

So far so good, but there was one problem! The first day of this three-day EP course would be 24^th December. I therefore had to stay in The Christie for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day … no family Christmas at home for me in 2013.

 

Whilst being in hospital over Christmas is clearly nobody’s first choice, it was actually not so bad an experience. All of the people working at The Christie – the nurses, the cleaners, the doctors – were very nice and sympathetic, helping me through the chemotherapy itself and various other treatments beforehand and afterwards. Even while I was hooked up to my chemotherapy drugs on Christmas Day, everyone there helped cheer me up. Not only did I get a turkey dinner (even though the candida meant I was unable to eat very much of it), I was also given some shower gel and deodorant as an additional Christmas present. Being hooked up to a drip machine for most of my visit meant I could hardly use them while I was there, but it was the thought that counted.

 

The normally quite liberal visiting hours – 12 noon to 8pm each day apart from protected mealtimes – were also extended to essentially 24 hours during the Christmas period to make it easier for people from further away to visit. This was an absolute godsend for my family – some of whom had come from as far afield as Lancaster, Suffolk and Dubai – and it meant that they could visit me at least twice a day to keep me company. I later learned that my family were understandably not in the mood for a full Christmas dinner on the big day itself, which they postponed in favour of a stir-fry!

 

Like a lot of people from my generation, I rely on being connected to the Internet for entertainment and keeping in touch with people, which is why The Christie’s free wifi was so useful while I was stuck in bed. I only had my trusty iPhone and a charger with me – I had not intended to be in the hospital for quite so long, so I had not brought in my laptop – but this was enough to keep up with emails when I could concentrate, and to play games when I couldn’t.

 

The EP chemotherapy did indeed help improve things. The abdominal pains almost completely stopped and, when I could actually eat, I was able to keep my food down. I still had to stay an extra five days to deal with some residual stuff, such as a blood transfusion to help boost my iron levels, filgrastim injections to try and boost my white blood cell count and waiting for a rash on my back to clear caused by a newly-discovered allergy to allopurinol. After all of that, I was finally discharged on New Year’s Eve and I saw 2014 start at home with my family.

 

Unfortunately, my next visit to The Christie was considerably sooner than I expected. I had to be readmitted about 24 hours after I had left due to an infection while still neutropenic, possibly because the top of an impacted wisdom tooth had broken off (I had visited an emergency dentist and an out-of-hours GP, all to no avail).

 

This time around, I had to be put into a side-room in one of the wards to prevent infecting other vulnerable patients and be attached to an antibiotic drip. Fortunately, the antibiotics managed to work well enough to allow my white blood cell count to recover and I was able to return home a week later. This coincided with my birthday, so being allowed to go home again was the best birthday present I could have wished for!

 

The rest of my 5-day BEP chemotherapy sessions were less fraught than the EP cycle I had at Christmas. I was better prepared for my four 21-day cycles. Not only could friends finally come to visit whenever I was there, I was also able to bring in my laptop to give me something to do while the drugs were being put through me. I work as a computational scientist for one of the UK’s research councils, so I was able to do a little bit of programming and catch up on reading research articles while receiving chemotherapy as an in-patient. The candida also cleared up thanks to mouthwashes, so I could actually eat the various meals available. Fish and chips on Friday lunchtimes were my favourite.

 

Annoyingly, I gained some kind of infection each time I was neutropenic and had to return to The Christie (always on Day 10 of each cycle) to be given antibiotics and allow my immune system to recover. I reckon I must have visited every single ward and most of the side-rooms in The Christie! My hair also fell out, so I had to start wearing hats to keep my head warm.

 

More positively, I met quite a few other patients being treated for various forms of cancer, including someone else who lived in my hometown. The doctors and nurses were as nice and helpful as they had been at Christmas, telling me how well the chemotherapy was working (very well indeed) and helping me deal with its various side-effects. I had my last top-up of bleomycin in early April 2014 and since then I have only had to come in as an outpatient for scans and check-ups, as well as removing the nephrostomy (hurrah!). My cancer has not returned since the end of my treatment and I am almost certainly in remission.

 

That memorable Christmas has made me more grateful of how hard doctors and nurses at hospitals like The Christie work, especially when most people are having a peaceful time with their families (as I certainly will be this year).

My experience of having breast cancer has been an education in patience, humility and gratitude

Victoria Lavin

I'm an oncologist at The Christie. In August 2017, during the last month of my maternity leave, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. My experience of being on the other side of the consultation desk will shape my future career and it has helped me to understand what goes on for patients. It has been an education in patience, humility and gratitude.

I learned that cancer is not a battle, hair loss does matter, and even doctors like me can’t prepare for the effects of chemotherapy.

Initially, I was plagued by memories of the patients I had discharged home or to the hospice for end-of-life care. Thankfully they are few – but they are the ones I remember.

First, there were the well-meaning stock phrases which I myself had so often used as a doctor:

“You’re so brave; you can fight this”. Really? Yesterday I was a 34-year-old clinical oncology trainee and mum of two, and today I’m a professional cancer warrior? Cancer didn’t feel like a fight to me and I won’t be asking my patients to go into battle in future.

I have prescribed countless cycles of chemotherapy throughout my career, but still, there were some surprises. For example, intravenous dexamethasone given for nausea makes your bottom tingle when administered. Subcutaneous filgrastim to boost white cell production stings if you give it straight from the fridge.

The biggest ego-bruising revelation was learning who makes the difference. As the doctor prescribing the treatment I always felt my role was the most crucial. For the patient, however, it’s the healthcare assistant who smiles when you walk in and gets you seen on time; the volunteer who brings you a cup of tea; the complementary therapist who offers reflexology and a chat during treatment; and the nurse who gets the cannula in at the first attempt.

Embracing the new world of turban tying helped me to feel confident with my radically different appearance

I had never visited the Maggie’s centre at The Christie as a doctor, but soon discovered a welcome haven for myself, my friends and family away from the bustle of the hospital.

Hair loss is something we often gloss over in busy clinics. I have been guilty of simply handing over a wig leaflet as the patient walks out of the door. It matters. It changes a person’s whole identity. I worried what my children would think and that it made me look like a victim. In the end, my daughter said: “Mummy, you’ve got no hair like Grandad Pete” and carried on making her Disney princess puzzle. For me, a recommendation from a colleague for a local hijab stylist was a game-changer. Embracing the new world of turban tying and styling helped me to feel confident with my radically different appearance, look less like Grandad Pete and keep that victim behind closed doors.

It was no surprise that chemotherapy was gruelling. The first part of the treatment was predictable, but it was tough trying to fit housework, spending time with family and friends and exercising into the three days I felt well.

The second half of the process was a treatment affectionately known as the ‘red devil’ among cancer bloggers. Four hours after the infusion I felt an overwhelming need to lie down and sleep. Such extreme tiredness that brings you to tears is something I hadn’t experienced before. Giving patients permission to be kind to themselves in the first few days after treatment and not expecting to function anywhere near normally is something I will take back to the clinic.

There was just time after the final cycle to recover and begin preparing for surgery. Finding out that post-surgery bras are VAT exempt felt like a considerate concession from the government and high street retailers – and another tip to pass on to patients.

After surgery, I was very pleased to receive a physiotherapy leaflet in my pre-operative assessment and an invitation to a group session to ensure that arm movement was maintained. With scarring, the arm can become stiff. There was no way I was going to be that patient who couldn’t get their arm above their head and into the treatment position for radiotherapy. Thankfully the militant physiotherapy paid off and my radiotherapy planning scan went without a hitch.

I have heard the end of treatment bells ringing out in the department over the last three years and I have sometimes offered a clap or cheer if I was passing. As I rang the end of treatment bell for myself, I appreciated what it is to do so. The concept of the bell is a fantastic innovation, brought back to the UK from the USA by a family who had been there for proton beam therapy treatment and set up their own charity. The bell helps many patients mark the end of their gruelling chemotherapy and radiotherapy treatments.

For me, the bell also marked the start of my transition from being a patient back to being a doctor. As a result of my experiences I hope I can appreciate more what patients go through and understand what a difference all the dedicated and caring members of the NHS machine make to the patient experience, despite all the pressures they face.

Victoria Lavin is a clinical oncology trainee working at The Christie. She tweets @vjplested

We have demonstrated that modern radiotherapy is safe and effective in carefully selected older patients with small-cell lung cancer

Professor Corinne Faivre-Finn

It’s been an exciting few months recently as my colleagues and I at The Christie, collaborating with researchers throughout the world, have made some important discoveries relating to the treatment of older patients with small-cell lung cancer.

Small-cell lung cancer is a type of cancer that we diagnose in around 13% of all people with lung cancer. This type of cancer tends to spread quite quickly and many of our patients are diagnosed at an advanced stage. Unfortunately, despite a lot of advances in the field, survival rates have not significantly improved. To address this challenge, my team and I at The Christie have been doing research aiming to find better treatment options for these patients.

This week, The Journal of Thoracic Oncology has published the age analysis of the CONVERT trial which specifically looks at the outcomes of older patients in the trial compared to those of younger patients.

The CONVERT trial was an international clinical trial in which 547 patients with small-cell lung cancer that had not spread outside the chest, received radiotherapy delivered either twice-daily over three weeks (standard treatment) or once-daily at a higher dose over six and a half weeks (experimental treatment). All participating patients received standard chemotherapy together with radiotherapy.

The trial recruited patients from the UK, France, Spain, Belgium, Poland, Slovenia, Canada and the Netherlands and closed in November 2013. We have been analysing the results ever since and the publication this week is a very important step forward in our knowledge of the disease and the best way to treat it.

The results showed similar survival times and side effects from treatment in both radiotherapy groups. However, these results were much more favourable compared to previous studies that did not use modern radiotherapy techniques. We concluded that twice-daily radiotherapy should remain the standard treatment, but once-daily treatment could be offered in cases where twice-daily radiotherapy is not available or where there are logistical challenges.

A large proportion of the patients we see in our clinics are over the age of 70. Unfortunately, there isn’t a lot of robust information coming out of clinical trials regarding which treatment options are safe and effective in older patients. In the past, patients above the age of 70 or 75 have typically been excluded from clinical trials. This was mainly because of strict criteria excluding patients with a number of additional medical conditions or those on a lot of medications. The lack of information makes it more difficult for both the patients and their doctors to reach the best possible treatment decisions. With this in mind, we looked at the outcomes of patients that were 70 years old and above, who participated in CONVERT, and compared them to those of patients younger than 70.

My colleague Dr Marianna Christodoulou has been instrumental in analysing these results. Her work identified that out of 490 patients in total, 67 were 70 years old and above. The results in this age group were very promising, demonstrating similar survival times and side effects from treatment between the older and younger groups. Encouragingly, the proportion of patients in the older group that had life-threatening infections, needed to stay in hospital or have blood transfusions was not significantly higher compared to those in the younger group.

The CONVERT trial is the largest randomised trial to date investigating treatment combining modern radiotherapy and chemotherapy in patients with small-cell lung cancer that has not spread outside the chest. Being able to demonstrate that these treatment options are possible, safe and effective in older patients in the context of this trial will influence clinical practice, and benefit older patients with this disease in the future.

Perhaps the most important take-home message of this analysis should be that selecting patients for such intense treatments should be very careful. In this study, most patients in the older group who tolerated treatment did not have any other significant medical conditions or restrictions on their daily activities. In patients who are less fit, more information is needed as to which treatment options are best and firm conclusions cannot be drawn at the moment. Furthermore, only three patients in CONVERT were above the age of 80, preventing us from making treatment recommendations for this group. The design of more clinical trials that specifically look at the outcomes of older patients will be an important step for further research.

Dr Christodoulou and I are very pleased with the results of the study and the interest shown amongst the lung cancer research community. We would like to thank everyone involved in the CONVERT trial for their tireless, hard work and dedication.

Dr Christodoulou presented this work in 2016 at the 17th World Conference on Lung Cancer and won the Heine Hansen Lectureship Award. This was a fantastic tribute in recognition of the hard work the CONVERT trial team has put into this large collaborative project.

The study was funded by Cancer Research UK and was developed with, set-up and co-ordinated by the Manchester Academic Health Science Centre Clinical Trials Unit.

Visit www.cancerresearchuk.org/about-cancer/find-a-clinical-trial/a-study-to-find-the-best-way-to-give-radiotherapy-for-people-with-small-cell-lung-cancer for more information about the CONVERT trial and visit www.christie.nhs.uk/professionals/research/clinical-trials/for information about clinical trials at The Christie.

We have worked hard to take our Outpatients department from ‘Good’ to ‘Outstanding’ but this is just the beginning - Olivia Samuel

Olivia Samuel, lead operational nurse

Last Friday, The Christie heard that we had been rated as an Outstanding trust by the health regulator, The Care Quality Commission (CQC).In amongst this detailed report, we found out that the outpatient service had improved from Good on a previous inspection to Outstanding this time, I was absolutely delighted with this both personally and for my team.

It is a true reflection of how dedicated our staff are at providing outstanding care to our outpatients every day. The outpatient team has worked hard and has consistently tried to improve services since the previous inspection in 2016 when it was rated Good.

Over the past year, we have worked diligently as a team to be the best we can be and try to lead the way in outstanding, compassionate care. We are particularly proud that the CQC found the outpatient service to be very responsive to patients and well-led, giving these areas of focus the highest possible Outstanding rating. These are both areas that have undergone some of the biggest changes. .

As a team, we were proud to showcase the work we have been doing with patients to improve the services in the department and gain their feedback for opening our new unit. We also had the opportunity to show inspectors our exciting new facilities that will open shortly.

My personal passion for outpatients came following treatment that I received from this hospital in 2016 for breast cancer. I had worked in the hospital for 12 years within the inpatient setting and until this point had been unaware of the extent of the activity that happens in the outpatient setting. 

As I stepped into the hospital as a patient, I was surprised and overwhelmed at how scared I felt. How could I feel so lost in a place where I knew my way around and knew so many people? How could I be so scared of the treatments and symptoms that I regularly reassured people about? My amazing colleagues wrapped their arms around me and carried me through it all, but not because I was a colleague, it was because they cared and wanted to do this for every patient. Compassion and care are embedded in all the staff.

My family liked to joke that I was given cancer to be The Christie hospital’s ‘secret shopper’, just a very extreme experiment to evaluate the service! But this was actually a good coping strategy and when the matron role became vacant in outpatients, it became the perfect opportunity to turn the extreme experiment into positive action. I could use my experience of visiting six different hospitals and over 30 different departments to lead The Christie’s busy outpatients department and help to improve it from Good to Outstanding.

As a department, we felt very determined to prove to the CQC how we believed the department had improved.

For me, outpatients became one of the most important parts of the hospital, the place where I received the most significant news throughout my treatments. The place where I can still remember word for word what people said, the expressions they used, the rooms I sat waiting in and the thoughts that all those things provoked. Outpatients’ is the place that provides the first impression of the amazing care that is given, it’s the place that trust is built upon, and the place where we need to get it right every time, for every patient, to make a horrible time easier for our patients.

Thank you and well done to everyone  who has helped us achieve this outstanding rating, including the valuable feedback from our patients.

You can read more about the ongoing redevelopment of the outpatients department at www.christie.nhs.uk/about-us/our-future/our-developments/our-new-outpatients/

 

April 2013 vs April 2018 - Nicola Stewart

Nicola Stewart - Christie fundraiser

In April 2013, I was in a bit of a mess. I was six months pregnant with our third child, Eliza, my husband and I should have been shopping blissfully for baby grows and painting the nursery with the same ecstatic excitement we’d felt when I was carrying James and Maisie, then five and two years old.

However, our third pregnancy had been spoilt in a way we could never have imagined, not even in our worst of nightmares.

In the previous month, I had been told I had cervical cancer. I had cervical cancer and I was pregnant.

I had had undiagnosed vaginal bleeding since the very early days of my pregnancy. We had rushed down to the Early Pregnancy Unit at the local hospital terrified that we were miscarrying this tiny life, who was barely days old. Ultrasound scans on a weekly basis for the first 12 weeks provided relief each week as our third child grew and seemed to be completely oblivious to all the anxiety we were experiencing.

Since a clear smear test 18 months previously, medical staff dismissed cervical cancer as a cause for the bleeds. We were told that “sometimes women just bleed in pregnancy”. Then, when I was around 24 weeks pregnant, another bleed occurred, and I sought reassurance that our baby was ok through a visit to the ante-natal unit. Hearing a heartbeat put our minds at rest. Following what had become a routine internal examination, a doctor I’d never seen before said it looked like I had a polyp and took a sample from my cervix.

Within a couple of days, I was asked to come back to see a doctor. Honestly, I thought it was simply an appointment to prescribe some iron tablets, so I sent my husband off to work. Fortunately, my parents said they’d attend with me, otherwise I would have been there alone apart from Maisie who was sat in her pushchair. It was at that moment I was given the news that turned our whole world upside down. I had cervical cancer.

Like any newly diagnosed cancer patient, I underwent examinations and scans, to determine how big the cancer was and what the most effective treatment was going to be. Though, unlike most other cancer patients, my scans were also studied to assess when they could safely deliver my unborn child, who we now knew was a girl. It was a balance of giving me the best chance of curative treatment in time and ensuring that Eliza had the best prospect of survival.

At this point I was told I would be treated at The Christie. The name of the hospital sent ripples of fear through me. The Christie? But that’s where ill people have to go…while I didn’t feel ill at all.

I spent the rest of the month waiting for 15^th May - this was the date of my caesarean section. I would be 32 weeks pregnant.

The weeks became studded with appointments with oncologists at The Christie to explain my treatment plan – six weeks of chemotherapy (“and yes,” they said, “I would lose my hair.”)

I did get some chance to feel like a “normal” expectant mother by attending my ante-natal appointments, extra scans and finally having steroid injections to help Eliza’s lungs to develop quicker in anticipation of her early arrival.

I now had almost daily contact with a doctor, nurse or midwife. I said to my husband more than once, in tears, that I just didn’t want this to be me, I wanted my old life back.

All I could think about was the cancer. How fast was it growing inside me? Could I afford to wait until May? What about making sure James and Maisie had a Mum around? How could I not give Eliza the best chance of survival when it had been she that had been the reason I was in the right place at the right time?

Fast forward five years and I wish I could shout back in time to my earlier self. “Believe! Eliza is going to be fine, better than fine. This treatment is going to be successful. You’ve got this!”

My emotions ran high again in April 2018 as I had the privilege of running the London Marathon - a lifetime’s dream. Though, it was not my first marathon since treatment, it was in fact number six. Making me a seven times marathoner altogether and I won’t be stopping at the finish line on The Mall.

In 2018 I have set myself the challenge of running five marathons to mark five years in remission - one for each year of survivorship, who else to do it for but The Christie.

I was a runner long before I was diagnosed with cancer, even running through all three pregnancies and ran within weeks of giving birth. I continued to run through my treatment.

The hospital staff encouraged me to continue unless I got to the point where I couldn’t. That point didn’t arrive as I ran three or four times a week, it felt great. I believed that it was one way I could fight my battle, head on. I felt like me when I ran, not a cancer patient, just me.

Once treatment ended I maintained my running routine with Eliza accompanying me in her pram. I started to sign up for races again and I measured my recovery as my times came tumbling down to pre-treatment speeds.

In October 2014, I ran my first post cancer marathon. I was astounded to cross the line in a lifetime best of 03:50:12. Since then I ran more marathons and countless other races, the most recent being the Seville marathon in February 2018 – the first of my five in 2018 challenge.

I have also thrown the gauntlet down to my family and friends, asking if they would sign up to an event which improves their fitness, while pledging to raise money as part of my team – Nicola’s Christie Soldiers.

My view is that while being fit doesn’t prevent you from serious illness, it’s still an investment and better enables you to deal with and recover from whatever health problems you may encounter in the future.

The response I have had has been amazing. I’ve had pledges from friends, family, colleagues, my husband’s friends, friends’ husbands, neighbours, friends of friends – the list goes on. Even the very youngest of my local community are getting involved. The Rainbows are running their own marathon between them one night in the local park.

I was super proud to wear my Christie vest at the London marathon. I am eternally grateful to The Christie for permitting me the opportunity to do this in two ways – successful curative treatment and to offer me one of their prized golden bond places. “Hey - The Christie – I owe you big time!”

Nicola and family have been nominated for a Pride of Bury award, you can vote for her at www.prideofbury.co.uk/the-categories/our-hero-family-award-finalists/

To find out more about how you can support The Christie charity please visit www.christie.nhs.uk/the-christie-charity/

The 6 by 6 Challenge - Tony Gretton

Tony Gretton - Christie fundraiser

I recently completed a ‘6 by 6 challenge’ doing six sporting events/challenges in six consecutive weeks.

I realised that people wanted something more for their sponsorship money. I couldn’t give them blood but I could give them sweat and tears (oh yes and cramps, lots and lots of cramps).

The idea came about a year ago. I had completed two sprint triathlons and a 45 mile bike ride on three consecutive weekends. My thoughts turned to 2018 and my 60th birthday and how I would like to mark it. I decided I wanted to do a real challenge to test my endurance to the limit.

So if you’re thinking of doing a fundraising event, my first tip is to make it a challenge for yourself. Something you’re going to really have to work at to achieve.

Building on my 2017 ‘three in a row’, I decided to add in a longer bike ride, a swim and, well read on if you want to find out. I already knew the dates for the first three events and it didn’t take long to find the others.

My second tip is to plan. You need to have a date to aim at, to focus the mind and help with training.

At the end of 2017, I announced my 6 by 6 challenge. My wife thought I was ‘bloody mad’ – or at least that’s the more polite version!

Thirdly, announce early on what you’re going to do. You’ll be able to gauge interest and people will know early on that you will want them to sponsor you. Plus it adds a commitment to your challenge.

2018 dawned dark, cold and wet. I’d already put in a few months hard groundwork training, but January began the real ramp up and the full release to the big wide world of what I was going to do and when.

The events and dates unfolded thus:

20th May – Sprint triathlon at Lytham St Anne’s where I set a personal best (PB) and finished sixth in my age group.

27th May – Sprint triathlon at Rossendale where I set a PB and finished third in my age group.

3rd June – 45 mile bike ride from Blackpool to Fleetwood area and back.

10th June – 80 mile bike ride around North Wales including two monster climbs, one being the Horse Shoe Pass. Boy did I have some cramps in the last mile and aches at the end of this one, but little did I know what was to come.

13th June (my birthday) – a two-mile open water swim to celebrate being 60 years old!

24th June – Half ironman at Cholmondeley Castle where I came second in my age group. All I can say about this one was that I plain hurt and suffered some of the worst cramps on the run I’d ever had. At 400m from the finish, I actually screamed in pain at the cramps in both legs. I couldn’t take a step. My daughter appeared from nowhere to encourage me on, giving me the spur to keep walking as the cramps eased. Then 200m later there was my granddaughter and we ran side by side for those last yards and crossed the line to the cheers of the crowd. I’d finished my first ever half ironman and the last …. Though there is a part of me that would love to have another crack at it.

When I spoke to my personal trainer she also told me I was ‘bloody mad’ for doing all these events back to back. I didn’t believe her but I do now!

Tip 4 – engage with people who know and understand what you are going to do. Use their knowledge and experience. Think about joining a club that specialises in that type of event and train for it. I told my triathlon club what I was planning and they also said ‘you’re bloody mad’ but they gave me brilliant support.

I then entered a couple of events, the Blackburn 10k where I set a PB and the Liverpool half marathon. The last time I ran this far was just after I’d left the Army, was as fit as a butcher’s dog and was only 24 at the time. Somewhere over the last 36 years I’ve lost 22 minutes and trust me when it says 400m to the water station, suddenly it’s twice as far as it ever used to be.

For all the training, the date of the first event soon dawned and events two and three followed. Event four, the 80 miles around North Wales was my first real test. The furthest I’d ever been on the bike was 60 miles, so this was 20 miles into the unknown, round a very tough course and on a rather hot Sunday. Somehow I managed to get my older brother to sign up to it as well. It was tough, but boy was it glorious. We’d both do it again!

Tip 5 – If you can get someone to come along with you, even if for only a part of what you’re going to do it will make the day a lot more memorable. Believe me, seeing North Wales on the bike is firmly etched into our memories. When I told my brother I would also be doing a half marathon shortly after the bike ride he also told me I was ‘bloody mad’.

The fifth event was only three days later, the two-mile open water swim. It went faultlessly and I only suffered a bit of arm ache in the last 200m. Thankfully, the rain held off until we were back in the car. It’s a funny thing, I hate swimming in the rain …. You get too wet!!

Before I knew it the 24th June arrived. I was up at 4.15 am to get to Cholmondeley Castle.

Tip 6 – Find a great location. If you choose somewhere really nice you’re more likely to have supporters come to watch. You’ll also feel a bit more inspired.

I lined up with another 179 fools (I mean competitors) waiting for the hooter to set us off for the most gruelling sporting event I’d ever done. Seven and a half hours later I crossed the finish line. I hurt, I mean I truly hurt! My wife, daughter and son-in-law were there to see me finish. My six in a row was announced over the loudspeakers and the crowd clapped and cheered again.

The Christie, National Kidney Federation and British Heart Foundation all got a mention. Loads of people spoke to me after about my challenge and asked about the charities and why I chose them. So not only was I able to raise funds, but also elevate the profiles of the charities I was supporting.

Tip 7 – Get your family and friends involved - you can’t do it without them.

Tip 8 – Pick a charity which really means something to you. It’s much easier to sell it to others. You need to tell a story.

Tip 9 – Use social media, but limit your updates prior to the event or you may risk people losing interest. I updated on all my training mileages as it’s a good way to keep a tally.

I promised my wife I’ll never do another half ironman and it’s something I’ll honour. She worried all the way around my final 13 miles of the run. Without her tireless and selfless support, I couldn’t have done it.

On the way home from Cholmondeley we visited Bolton Hospice to see our closest friend Aileen. I kissed her on her forehead and told her I’ve done all six events! Aileen peacefully passed away within a day of us seeing her. And that’s the thing, all the way through the toughest of training and the events, for all the pain I put myself through, I knew I would recover. We always knew Aileen wouldn’t.

I did receive one great piece of news a few days later. A friend and colleague suffering from complete kidney failure had received a new one and was now back at work.

We cannot solve all the terrible illnesses out there, but we need to keep trying. It’s support from the thousands of Christie fundraisers (amongst whom I’m proud to count myself) who help fund vital research and care and treatment for patients. Believe me, every single penny counts.

There are so many people I want to thank including my wife Margaret, for all her fantastic support and the Scarborough radiography department, who raised a phenomenal amount of money for my three causes. There have been some real highs and lows but it’s confirmed my belief in people and there are a lot of wonderful ones out there. And finally, I’d like to thank all the companies that sponsored me.

I hope this inspires readers to do something, too. We have all been affected by the loss of someone close. Use their life to the most positive result that can be achieved, helping to save others.

My challenge is complete - I’m tired, I ache, I’m proud! I wonder what everyone would say if I decided to do it again next year!

Let the games begin - Keith Small

Keith Small - Christie fundraiser

Eighteen months ago we at the Waterside Hotel and Leisure Club wanted to try and get companies and businesses in Didsbury to get active and have some fun in the name of charity, and so began the Didsbury Business Games.

Deciding on The Christie as our charity was an easy decision as it is very close to many people’s hearts in the local community, so we invited some other organisations to get on board and become founding partners.

The response was incredible and very quickly we had Towers Business Park, Tenpin Bowling, Didsbury Sports Ground, Food Sorcery and Parrs Wood High School on board to make the games a success.

In just six weeks we raised £7,000 – way more than our £5,000 target. As a result of such positive feedback, we knew we should make it an annual event and we were determined to make the 2018 games bigger and better.

This year, 11 companies and organisations took part, with Booth Ainsworth, Sterling Partners, We Buy Any House, Grosvenor Casino, The Albert Club, Amoria Bond, Eclectic Hotel Collection and Pabla and Pabla Solicitors all joining in.

Taking shows like The Krypton Factor and the Crystal Maze as a loose basis, we developed a set of games that would include both mental and physical aspects to make sure everybody could join in the fun. The games ran every Wednesday for six months with points awarded for each round.

They included ten pin bowling, a Bear Grylls outdoor cooking challenge, a school sports day, a cocktail making event, dodgeball and a quiz night.

The 2018 winners of the Didsbury Business Games were Booth Ainsworth and the final table can be viewed here: www.didsburybusinessgames.co.uk/leaderboard/

As well as earning points for competing in the challenges there were bonus points for fundraising efforts which we were helped with by Jen Bailey from The Christie charity.

Everybody had such a good time and really bought into the spirit of the events and we managed to raise more than £14,000 which was really incredible as we had set a target of £10,000. As well as raising the money we have all made new friends and to get out of the workplace for such a rewarding experience has helped all of us.

All the funds are going to support proton beam therapy research. This will help to make sure that the new high energy NHS proton beam therapy service opening this year at The Christie will remain at the cutting edge of treatment for decades to come. Previously, patients have had to travel to other countries for this therapy so it is great to be able to support research into such a vital new service.

For more information about the Didsbury Business Games or to register an interest in the 2019 games, please contact info@didsburybusinessgames.co.uk  - we’d love to have you on board.

Everyone shows a genuine interest in how I’m getting on and I feel like I’m part of The Christie family

Ruth Naylor, Christie patient

 

On 22nd August 2017, I went to see my GP having felt generally under-the-weather for a few weeks. Fluey, sweaty at night, absolutely knackered. With two small children, a crazy busy life and a new business venture my symptoms were nothing particularly unusual however, my doctor sent me for some routine blood tests and a chest X-ray, “just to rule anything major out”. Thank goodness she did.

Within 48 hours, I’d been diagnosed with Lymphoma, cancer of the blood and told the devastating news that I had a dinner-plate sized tumour in my chest. I was on my own when the registrar broke the news to me (thinking I simply had a chest infection) and it’s true what they say, the world stopped turning. The words “you have cancer” really are the most heart-stopping, gut-wrenching words. Ten years ago, my mum went from her cancer diagnosis to death in just five weeks. This thought has crossed my mind a thousand times each day, along with how my two young children would manage without their mum.

Due to the aggressive nature of the cancer, I was transferred to The Christie within a week and whilst I’d heard a lot about The Christie and it’s amazing work, I had no idea what to expect. I met with Professor John Radford and the lymphoma team on the haematology ward, including my specialist clinical nurse, Sarah. That first meeting was tough but everyone I came across was exceptionally kind, from the ladies on the reception desk to the nurses taking my blood. It was as if everyone was on my side from the start. Nothing was too much trouble. The details of treatment were discussed; I’m told we were looking at 6 months of fortnightly chemotherapy, potentially radiotherapy and if necessary, a bone marrow transplant. The worst news of all? I would also lose all of my hair.

Following biopsies, more blood tests and a PET scan, I had only a week to wait before chemotherapy started. In this time, Sarah made herself available to me, whenever I needed her to answer every sensible or ridiculous question I had. Knowing that hair loss for a woman has a  huge psychological impact, Sarah encouraged me to visit The Christie wig shop as soon as I felt able, to start preparing myself for the inevitable. In every dealing I had with the team at The Christie, I was left feeling safe, secure and in doubt whatsoever that I was in the very best hands. The ladies in the Information Centre took the time to chat me through the various support groups which are available to me and introduced me to the Maggie’s Centre for any practical and emotional support I might need. Everywhere I turned, there was someone to hold my hand and guide me through.

The day of my first chemotherapy was nerve-wracking and highly emotional. With no idea how, or if, I would respond to the treatment, I entered the haematology ward and was immediately greeted by Claire, my nurse for the day. She put me at ease, explained as many times as I needed her to, what the process would be and how I may feel after each chemotherapy drug. I was in and out within six hours and headed home to wait for the side effects to kick in. Once again, Sarah checked in with me each day that week to see how I was feeling and if the team could do anything more for me.

That first round was 3 months ago and every other Friday I’ve been following the same process. I arrive at The Christie for 9am to be greeted by Joanne whilst I’m waiting for my blood tests. I then meet my consulting team for a catch-up and review of how I’m getting on and make my way to Ward 26 for my chemotherapy. All the nurses know my name, everyone shows a genuine interest in how I’m getting on and there’s a real sense of teamwork. I feel like I’m part of The Christie family and I know many people feel the same. For a place which could be full of fear and sadness, there’s an incredibly uplifting vibe throughout.

In May 2018, after numerous scans, I finally received the news every cancer patient wants to hear. I got my “all clear”! The last 10 months have been a gruelling and emotionally testing process but I feel privileged to have had my life-saving treatment at The Christie. I’m incredibly lucky to have this specialist cancer hospital near to where I live and for anyone who may be facing a war with cancer, there really is no better place to fight your battle. I will be at having regular check-ups at The Christie for the next five years as until that point passes, I cannot be declared as “cured” but I now intended to live my life to the full, to enjoy it as much as I can, and will always be indebted to the great work of my oncology team in this hospital.

A Few Words About Luck - Kate Woodhead

Kate Woodhead - Christie patient

Do you consider yourself lucky?

I do - even though I have had a blood cancer for the last 20 years.

So why am I lucky?

Because - I came to The Christie in 1998, aged 58, for a second opinion and was given my future back. Further investigations gave me a median survival rate of eight to 10 years (I’ve doubled that forecast) instead of the 18 months - 3 years prognosis I was given previously.  I had been diagnosed initially at Leighton Hospital with Mantle Cell Lymphoma and a bone marrow biopsy showed my bone marrow was ‘grossly infiltrated with malignant cells’ according to the haematologist. Within three weeks I started on a monthly chemo regime of CHOP.  What a good name for it - as I lost my hair, my strength and my resolve. Another bone marrow biopsy, three months later showed the response was minimal and a transplant was suggested. I requested/insisted on a second opinion and saw Professor Radford who did another biopsy and phoned me with the new diagnosis of Small Lymphocytic Lymphoma - which was so kind of him and I so appreciated it. I felt I had a life again.

Because - I have been treated with expertise, care and consideration throughout all those years of coming to The Christie. We came so often, I think every car we drove seemed to be able to get there with minimum steerage. We lost count one year after we had been 30 times.

Because - although I had had five sessions of chemotherapy over the years, I am still here and able to take part in a clinical trial of a new combination of drugs which is proving to be very successful. I’m hoping this sixth chemotherapy regime will be the last. Dr Mamat is fantastic but I don’t want to have to see him so often - if this treatment will give me five years remission I will be 83 and that will do for me.


Because - I trained as a State Registered Nurse (SRN) many years ago, and as I did phlebotomy in one of my jobs after marriage - it meant I never had a needle phobia, though my veins are not brilliant. Tracey, who takes blood in department 26, is the best I have ever had sticking needles into my arms - in and out like a dream. I am not the only patient who is always grateful to see her on duty.



Because - my husband John has been with me for every appointment and is always supportive. We treat ourselves to lunch and a glass of wine, whether the counts are good or not so good - but occasionally go to the staff canteen and enjoy the atmosphere there - a pity it isn’t licensed!


Because - my two consultants, first Professor Radford and then Dr Bloor have given me such excellent treatment over the years with such friendly caring staff in both departments.  I thank my lucky stars every time I come to the hospital - I am so privileged to be treated here.


After my diagnosis, I found myself looking at people walking by me and thinking ‘how lucky they are - they don’t have cancer’. You feel so different from everyone. You feel stigmatised by the diagnosis and, of course, the word brings fears and worries. I then realised that I had joined a rather special club, one with an exorbitant joining fee, but nevertheless full of really good and interesting people.


I was a founder member and moderator for an email support group and was also asked to be a buddy by the Lymphoma Society; eventually I became pretty much a veteran. I know that for ’newbies’ who had just been diagnosed that it is encouraging to be in touch with those of us who have survived various chemotherapy regimes and are still enjoying life.


This was the best piece of luck - how much you appreciate life after you have come to terms with perhaps not making three score years and ten. Life is all the sweeter because you feared you were coming to the end of it - before you really expected the end. Though when do we ever expect it?


I am lucky because I received so much love from family members and friends that I feel my life has been worthwhile. I have always considered that love is the important element in life and I know that love will continue even after I have died - it doesn’t die with the person.  Every life you touch with love gains a little from you and you gain so much in return.


But will people in the future be as lucky as I have been?


I really do hope so. It really distresses me to read of more and more pressures on the NHS.  Why can’t governments recognise the need for UK residents, of every race and colour, to have a constant and good health service? Do they not realise the incredible benefit we all gain from it? Don’t they realise what a marvellous resource we have in our doctors, nurses, radiographers, physiotherapists etc etc and every other member of staff who are part of this wonderful NHS of ours. We must all fight to preserve it, it truly is worth fighting for. So rally to the cause - long live the NHS.

A Biscuit Invasion - Clare Barnes

Clare Barnes - Trainee Nursing Associate

                                                                              

When the Trainee Nursing Associate (TNA) role was first introduced there was a huge buzz about a new addition to the nursing family. In the initial months we were reminded we were a pilot but also called trail blazers, paving the way for future cohorts. I’m a little fire phobic so like to stick with my comparison to the hobnob biscuit - in part due to the uniform colour.

I should begin by explaining what a TNA is. The Nursing Associate will work under the direction of a fully qualified Registered Nurse (RN). The Nursing Associate is not a Registered Nurse but will undertake some of the duties that a RN currently undertakes, enabling the Registered Nurse to spend more time on the assessment and care associated with both complex needs and advances in treatments. We will be regulated by the NMC and our standards are currently being finalized. We come with a variety of clinical skills and experience however all have the same fundamental training and as such these skills are transferrable to any area within the hospital. We’re flexible biscuits, soaked in knowledge and ready to be dunked in any area that needs us.

Being a biscuit is a lot less crumbly that you would think. I’ve previously compared our role to Hobnobs taking the outlook of Peter Kay who refers to them as the hard-core dunking biscuits - persistent and refuse to crumble under pressure. That likeness has proved more than appropriate over the last 15 months as we met every update to our course with a smile and a resilience that refuses to be broken.

My introduction to The Christie came at a personal level when I lost my mother to ovarian cancer however the care we received as a family at that time was second to none. Our hospital has created a unique environment where despite the somewhat scary circumstances, patients can feel at ease. The people who work at The Christie are wonderful, caring souls and I am genuinely proud to be part of something special.

When I was younger (a LONG time ago) I had wanted to be a nurse. My mum had also worked in a hospital and I can still remember the nurses letting me wear one of their hats when we picked her up at the end of a shift. Life happened, and I got lost in a career in the banking industry eventually working from home. After my introduction to The Christie I was drawn to the possibility of working there.  I joined The Christie in 2015 as a clerical officer working as a small cog in a big machine that continues to turn, providing exceptional care to our patients when they need it the most. I began on the Endocrine department and found the role rewarding working within a friendly team however I quickly came to realize that I had a desire to play a more hands on role in patient care. When a Health Care Assistant (HCA) role was advertised in the same department with the same shift pattern I jumped at the opportunity to support the nursing team on the unit.

It didn’t take me long to complete my skill set for the role and I began looking for opportunities to progress and become more involved in-patient care. Ultimately, I knew one day I wanted to become a nurse, I just wasn’t sure how I was going to make that happen - Bills have a habit of still needing to be paid and as much as my son likes to think he is self-sufficient - he’s not quite there yet!

Staring at the computer screen and taking in all the information I did the math’s in my head, “what if?” “how can I?” were all questions floating about. One of the nurses had pulled me to one side to show me the advertisement for a brand-new role starting in January - A pilot scheme but something she assured me I would be great at. As for all my questions the reply came in the form of another question “What if one opportunity could change your life?” So, I filled out the application, made myself sound more awesome than sauce in less than 200 words (It’s possible!), secured my interview and pinched myself when I got the call to tell me I had been successful.

There were 1700 applicants to the pilot scheme in Greater Manchester, 240 were successfully appointed to post. 8 of those are based at the Christie. The original pilot wave saw 2000 Trainee Nursing Associates recruited across England. A further 5000 are planned to be recruited this year and we have an additional 6 biscuits starting their apprenticeship at the end of April taking the trust total to 14.

We’re now in our third placement block and time flies when you’re having fun. Our course combines a mix of clinical placements and academic study. We work 30 hours a week in clinical practice with one day a week at university. My allocated university is Manchester Metropolitan University.

My clinical experience has been amazing providing me a wealth of information, experience and has also helped me put together the jigsaw puzzle that forms the patient journey from initial referral to eventual discharge. Throughout our clinical placements we are allocated a mentor to ensure we meet out learning objectives for the placement and our overall experience is looked after by our clinical educator who is always on hand to support our progress. Our placements are divided into four blocks covering Specialist, Community, Surgical and Medical. Within each block, we rotate through various areas to provide an overall view of the services available within the hospital and community setting.

I initially began with my specialist placement in January 2017. We stayed in our original home to enable us to find our feet. In July 2017, I moved to the community placement working with The Christie at Home Team, Outreach and the Mobile Chemo Unit. January 2018 saw me move to my surgical placement based at the IPU with rotations in theatres and the surgical wards. All our placements provide the opportunity for us to spoke out and I have taken advantage of placements with CCU Outreach, Enhanced recovery and the Stoma Nurses to name a few.

I have found through experience that the nursing team around us are our greatest teachers. Every person across the multi-disciplinary team offers support and different perspectives on how we can make each contact count with our patients. The knowledge that we have gained from university is helping to change the way we view things turning a clinical task into one that is supported with the knowledge of why we are doing it and the confidence to explain this to our patients and their carers.

Looking to the future, I can see a biscuit army on the horizon. The NHS is faced with many challenges, an aging population, patients with complex needs and the recruitment of nurses into the workforce. The TNAs are not intended as a replacement for any role, we are a new role created as an addition to the nursing family. We aim to compliment the workforce, adding value to the nursing team, providing support nurses and to bridge the gap between the HCAs and RNs. The role provides a career pathway for HCAs should they wish like myself to progress to nursing. The biscuits are here to help, we want our skills and knowledge to be utilised and hope to be seen as a positive addition to strengthen an ever-changing workforce.