More questions than answers after difficult week back in reality

IT IS like being hit in the face by Mike Tyson.

Now I know I’ve never been punched in the face by Mike, but I reckon this week has hit just as hard.

The whole time I was skiing in the Alps there was one small niggling thought: “I wonder what is happening to the tumour.”

I was fully aware that Professor Choi did not do a full removal.

That means leaving parts of the tumour behind as it was too risky to remove the full thing.

Much of my time in the Alps was hiding from reality.

I found the more time I spent skiing I didn’t have to think about tumours, although I’m also aware it won’t just go away.

After 14 years I should be used to this now.

But I must tell you, it’s getting worse – I feel completely exhausted and there’s some days I feel like I can’t keep going. It’s as if the fight is just too much.

As weeks go, this one has certainly been a tough one.

As I sat outside the brown wood oak door with a small sign saying Professor Choi next to it my mind was like a non-stop radio of “what-ifs?”

I am not embarrassed to say I was terrified – almost frozen to my seat in fear. As I walk into the room I tell myself to stand tall and look strong, but inside I was crumbling.

As we looked through my scans I could see the damage to the spinal cord after so many surgeries and I could also see the remainder of the tumour just sitting there.

The scan was done in February and it showed no changes since surgery, so the tumour hasn’t grown but that was February and we are now in May.

I had so many questions but didn’t know how to ask them.

With so many “what-ifs?” I actually don’t even know if there are answers to these burning questions.

I haven’t given up hope of a cure for spinal-cord injury but I know it’s a long way off even the clinical-trials stage. So as I sit looking at my spinal cord I can see why my arm feels numb.

There’s hardly anything left of my spinal cord and when you’re already dealing with millimetres there isn’t much room for things to go wrong.

As Professor Choi spoke through the surgery, he told me there was a point where he had to make a judgement and that judgement could either paralyse me completely or leave me as I am.

In 2016 the surgeon then had a similar choice and on that day I feel his judgement was wrong and I have been paying the price for that ever since.

So I’m happy that Professor Choi decided to leave that small remaining part of my tumour which is stuck to the cord.

Even though I’ve been living in fear, the last few months have been incredible and if he had made a bad judgement I would never have skied or hit any golf balls in the last few months, in fact I would still be lying in a hospital bed.

There wasn’t really much to discuss as I don’t have many options. But we needed images, so that meant another MRI scan.

Rather than waiting months on the national health service, I decided to go private which meant I got the scan the next day and I’ll get the results next week.

I feel that will give me peace of mind and I can either go away and work on my golf swing or I will be facing another surgery.

As I scroll the web looking for more clinical trials I am just left feeling empty.

The problem when you have a very rare tumour is there’s not many people researching it which means almost no clinical trials.

Lying back in the MRI machine for an hour-long scan on a beautiful Friday afternoon I drifted in and out of sleep. I couldn’t tell if I was dreaming or consciously having a conversation but the thought pattern was terrifying. I was trying to decide that if I was to die what would I wear inside a coffin.

I’ve got a rowing singlet or maybe a cycling suit or ski suit, or do I go with a Nike T-shirt with a slogan saying “Be where your feet are”?

I came out of the scan and sat in the small cubicle in my hospital gown for almost another 30 minutes.

I was more asking the question, “How do I keep going, where do I find the strength to fight, to show up every day and no matter what comes just to keep going?”

I am tired. In fact I am exhausted. But I know I’ve got to find the strength.

Maybe a trip back up to Scotland is what I need to be surrounded by my friends, nature and the Cairngorms. But unfortunately – or fortunately depending on how I look at it – I have to stay in London to go to hospital next week.

Professor Steve Peters gets me to re-frame it as if London is keeping me alive, but I also can’t help but think, “Is it where

I’m going to die?”

Paralympic gold medallist charts his recovery from spinal tumours