Chapter 11 - Terminal

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As the train left the station his face cracked with emotion and I knew he would burst into tears. I too was fighting back the tears. We had become so close and I was frightened that I might not see him again. I was also desperately afraid that I might not be there for him if he died.

I rang Sara two or three times a day. Max got progressively worse throughout the week and the pain spread throughout his left leg and to his right groin. Despite this pain he was in good spirits and was having a wonderful time.

I slipped into a strange beguiling netherworld. I accepted that he might have relapsed. To the outside world, I remained myself, full of good humour and seemed to be coping so well. The old self protective shell was thrown up again. Nothing could touch me. I knew it was a sham. All the emotions, feelings and fears were again being driven deep inside.

I sat at home turning his symptoms over and over in my mind. I scavenged for a rational explanation. I wondered if he had broken a bone in his leg or whether the chemotherapy had brought on some form of arthritis. I wondered if there was some sort of immune system problem that was causing these generalised symptoms. As the days passed my rationale became more and more transparent. Max's pain increased and he was put on breakthrough painkillers which were given each time the pain appeared. Slowly I realised that I was grasping for straws while drowning.

Sara phoned me at work and said that Max's leg had started to swell. She rang the Royal Marsden Hospital who said it might not be a relapse but could be a blood clot. We decided to bring him back home. If these symptoms were caused by the chemotherapy then we wanted him to be treated by doctors who fully understood the history of Max's disease. The pain was worsening and Sara had managed to get stronger morphine from local doctors after referring them to the Royal Marsden.

I got in my car at about five o clock in the evening and drove to Wales. Just before I left Sara told me that she had found a lump in Max's right leg. Max was in brilliant spirits, very happy and very mischievous. His spirits held my last hopes aloft. He seemed too well to have another tumour.

We drove back the following day. My father-in-law had mapped out all the hospitals en route in case we got into difficulties. Still I clung to the hope that this was some terrible mistake. Some unforeseen complication. Denial again. We drove straight to the Royal Marsden Hospital. This was no unforeseen complication. We saw the Professor and he left us in no doubt that the disease had returned and with a vengeance.

Sara and I had difficulty speaking at the diagnosis. We asked what options were open to us. There were four.

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