You’ll know by now that I’m a straight-talker, so it’s sometimes difficult for me to understand why people pussyfoot around me when they want to know how i’m getting on. It’s as if they’ll talk to me about pretty much anything than my cancer, when I know full well that they want to ask. I know that they don’t want to upset me, and they do it for the best reasons, so it doesn’t annoy me, but if they ask me straight-out, I’ll give an honest reply. If I’ve said all I want to say, then I’ll let them know that too, whoever they are.

I know, for example, when friends and family call at home, and they ask Jackie ‘how’s Paul doing?’...because she’ll reply: “well, you know, he’s ok. He’s been a bit up-and-down lately.” It’s the short answers, because I think there’s only so much anyone really wants to know. They want to know that I am actually ok, so the condensed version will do, but I sometimes wish they’d ask me, not Jackie. Even at my worst, I don’t bite.

Lately, callers have wanted to know how my chemo sessions have been going, so they’ll ask for more detail...and there’s more to say. Truthfully, I’ve felt good physically, and psychologically too. I’m reconciled now to the fact that, at some point, my health is going to get worse, and I’m not going to get better. That might sound like I’m stating the bleeding obvious, but I’ve been through the whole spectrum of emotions with this disease, but what it boils down to is that I was scared. I can’t tell you when it happened, because there hasn’t been one trigger point, or moment, or sudden realisation...but I’m not afraid anymore.

I’ve known for more than a year that I’m dying. Now I’ve accepted it. That doesn’t mean that I’m always going to be on a high, or that there won’t be times when it doesn’t make sense to me, but accepting that I’m not always going to be here has, in some ways, lifted a weight from my shoulders.

However, I do know that my coming to terms with dying won’t necessarily make things any easier for those who love me, especially Jackie. In some ways, death is easier for the person who’s dying than for those they leave behind...I know that, and no amount of preparation on my part will mean they’re ready for it. That’s not me being conceited, just honest.

Two weeks ago, I couldn’t have written this. I’m still fighting, still alive, still kicking, and enjoying the life I’ve got, with my family, and with the love that surrounds me. Long may it continue.

Take care, Paul