Return To Index
Return To Index
My mother was married to Alan Yates on August 20th 1977. Having been raised solely by my mother for nearly twelve years, it was understandably difficult to accept having a stepfather around. It was, I'm sure, not easy for any of us to adjust to such a fundamentally new lifestyle.
In early December of the same year, I began to suffer from a sore throat and a temperature. When normal household remedies were administered my temperature fell. However, it was soon to rise again and after a few days Doctor Dracass was consulted. He was clearly suspicious of these symptoms, and took a blood test believing it to be Glandular Fever or 'something rare'. Within twenty four hours he phoned to inform us of the diagnosis and I was rushed to hospital. It was leukaemia!
It was a cold and rainy evening as we travelled to Southampton General Hospital.
When we arrived I was informed by a Doctor, in private, that leukaemia was a form of blood cancer, causing an increase of the white blood cells. He also explained the bleak news that I had only a fifty percent chance of survival if I received hospital treatment. The treatment was highly experimental - no guarantees could be offered. My parents were devastated, but did their utmost to encourage me and over the next two years they offered me unwavering support.
I was allowed home for Christmas but returned immediately for radiography; a helmet was made to fit my face and head in order to protect the brain, and radiotherapy treatment commenced at The Royal South Hampshire Hospital, in February. I would lay on a surface which resembled a conveyor belt, a heavy door would enclose me inside a machine, and then I would hear the sounds that would become all too familiar in the near future; a loud click, a persistent hum and the working of machinery (whilst I remained in complete isolation and darkness).
This particular treatment continued for two months and was repeated twice a week. It was March 1978 when my hair fell out as a direct result of radiotherapy and a wig was fitted to avoid potential bullying at school.
During this same period and well beyond I received Chemotherapy treatment also, which consisted of a number of various tablets to be taken in extra-ordinary high doses. As little was known about my condition within the medical world, I was by necessity a real live human 'Guinea-Pig'. I was administered twenty-three tablets before breakfast. Such an unprecedented high dosage caused various reactions in my body and emotions. On one occasion my mouth swelled with numerous ulcers (My mother describes one ulcer in particular, as giving my mouth the appearance of containing an egg!).
Still worse, was the fact that the ulcers began to discharge, and I was returned to hospital for a week while my mouth was drained of these unwanted fluids. It was extremely painful and for quite some time I was unable to talk at all (the nurses very kindly gave me a small blackboard which served quite well as my chief means of communication.
Towards the end of the two years of treatment I also began to suffer a mental and physical reaction to these tablets. Feelings of nausea swept over me every time I even looked at the large array of tablets that awaited me at the breakfast table. My mother tried hard to disguise them in peppermint icing, chocolate and various other ways. This did prolong treatment for a few more months but it was a very worrying time for all of us. Other treatments and tests included frequent blood counts, lumber punctures and bone marrow tests. The latter requiring anaesthesia. My stepfather was wonderful during this entire period. Often it was he who took me to the hospital as my mother was a teacher and therefore could not easily take time off from her job.
I lost some weight and relationships with my peers suffered badly, but after two years it was confirmed that the leukaemia was in remission and after this my visits to the hospital became less and less frequent. My parents have since remarked on how brave and cheerful I remained during my illness, but I honestly believe that I simply became numbed by the trauma of the experience, and can barely remember my time at school over those two years. My social development was greatly hindered and may have contributed to reckless behaviour until well after my teens. (No you were just a reckless bugger like the rest of us - Ed)
I am, however, eternally grateful to my mother and stepfather for their constant resolve to see me through such bad times. I give thanks also to the rest of my family for behaving quite normally in the circumstances and particularly to my father for taking me on some wonderful holidays; even to the top of Ben Nevis which gave me a feeling of real conquest at the time.
Particular thanks go to Doctor Radford and Sister Willsher who were a source of constant strength and encouragement and Dr Dracass's original diagnosis was obviously crucial to the disease being quickly identified and treatment being initiated.
Although during Radio Therapy I was informed that there was practically no chance of having a child. (In nearly 100% of cases the treatment killed off sperm regeneration). My new wife Debbie and I made a very committed prayer and within three months Debbie was carrying our child to be; Zoe.
Finally I would like to offer hope and strength to anybody suffering from leukaemia or any other similar illness and encourage them not to give up hope.
Dave.
