SEASON OF JOY
Andrew Bate, 67, from Wickford, had so much to give, despite his time being numbered…
Gathering around the Christmas tree, I couldn’t have been any happier. With my wife Pauline, five children, 10 grandchildren, and four greatgrandchildren, the festivities were always something to look forward to.
Only, I couldn’t help but think that it would be the last Christmas Day that I’d get to share with them all – especially after what I had put them through…
Back in December 2005, enjoying a weekend in Rome with Pauline, I was snapping pictures of the Sistine Chapel, crooking my neck to look at the ceiling paintings.
Carrying on our day seeing the tourist spots before heading home, there was pain in my stomach that I couldn’t shake – almost as if I had pulled a muscle.
And with turbulence on the aeroplane, every single jolt made everything worse.
Landing at Stansted, we were making our way through passport control, when security pulled me aside.
‘Excuse me sir, are you OK?’ he asked.
And normally, I wouldn’t have complained.
A keen gardener, swimmer, dancer and cyclist, I felt like the fittest version of myself. But I couldn’t hide the truth. ‘No, I’m not!’ I said.
Being rushed to Chelmsford Hospital via ambulance, with Pauline by my side, my blood pressure was through the roof and my stomach pain had escalated further.
And after various scans, it was confirmed – I had a ruptured muscle.
Only, after months in agony with the pain spreading up my back and to my neck, alongside frequent visits back and forth to the hospital, it seemed that there was something more going on.
‘Your neck is broken,’ the specialist confirmed, showing me the MRI results.
How had I been walking around with a broken neck?
I hadn’t suffered any trauma. But within seconds, my thoughts were interrupted.
‘You have something called a plasmacytoma – the cancer has caused your neck to break,’ the doctor confirmed.
Looking up at the ceiling had been enough to cause a break – I hadn’t felt a thing.
I couldn’t quite process it, and with Pauline by my side, I knew the news would be a shock.
The worst part was having to tell my family. How was I supposed to tell them I had a broken neck and cancer?
But it was clear that they were all devastated.
Swiftly receiving radiotherapy as part of my treatment plan, as well as surgery to fix my vertebrae, it wasn’t long before I was back in the consultant’s office.
And just 11 months after first being diagnosed, I had the shock of a lifetime.
‘Your cancer has progressed to multiple myeloma, Andrew, it’s incurable,’ the doctor said.
With Pauline clutching onto my leg, I took a deep breath.
‘You’ve got just seven years to live,’ he added.
It was devastating to hear such words, but I quickly sprang into action…
‘Well what are we going to do about it?’ I insisted – my life was for living and I wasn’t going to give up that easily.
After telling my family the breaking news for a second time, I had to stay focused on ridding my body of myeloma.
So, after having chemotherapy, as well as a stem cell transplant at first with my own cells, and then having some donated from my sister, Cathy, as she was a perfect match, I was able to say, in 2007, that I was in remission – my cancer was finally under control.
Yet the number seven certainly hung over me – I was petrified that every year would be my last.
Only, I can proudly say that this year will be my 15th year of fighting myeloma – a number that even the professionals thought that I wouldn’t reach.
Every morning I can wake up and say – ‘Yippee! Today is going to be another great day!’
Especially as I can cherish my life with my family.
This Christmas, we are going to see the youngsters, gathering around the table.
I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for them all.
Life is for living, and I will make sure I do that with my family by my side – nothing else matters to me.
I couldn’t hide the truth anymore
I thought ever year would be my last
For support and guidance visit: myeloma.org.uk/christmas