By Bill Heaney
One of them is Professor Willy Maley, who is now retired from his post in the School of Critical Studies at the University of Glasgow,
An author himself, Willy says he has just finished reading Chris Hoy’s brilliant book, All That Matters, about his first year with stage 4 cancer.
An author himself, Willy says he has just finished reading Chris Hoy’s brilliant book, All That Matters, about his first year with stage 4 cancer.
He wrote on his Facebook page: “He was diagnosed at the same time as me with the same form of the disease – incurable, inoperable, terminal – and the same prognosis – 3 or 4 years. We went through chemo at the same time, finishing that course of treatment in March of this year.
“There the comparison ends, of course. Sir Chris Hoy, Olympic gold medallist, was only 47 when diagnosed and had two young children, so his story has a particular poignancy and intensity.
“I loved the frank and intimate detail around his first thoughts and feelings after the diagnosis, and the difficulty of telling people – much harder for him of course, as he had to tell his kids too, as well as the public eventually.
“The most compelling aspect of his memoir for me though, as well as the message of hope and the value of living in the here-and-now, was that chemo was an ordeal for him.
“His status meant he had a private room to protect his privacy, so he went through his treatment alone as a patient, though his wife Sarra was present.
“I was lucky to be in a room with others receiving the same treatment, or a different one – immunotherapy, for example – and had great conversations in our shared space.
“The room varied as did the patients, but there was always a feeling of going through this as a collective. “On one occasion, I was offered a private room, but I turned it down. I knew some patients would need the privacy more than me, and I enjoyed the talk and the everydayness.
“Like Chris, I had a reaction on the 2nd round, the same thing, pressure on the chest, not uncommon, and like me, his treatment was paused for an hour or so that day.
“When I was in one of the bigger rooms someone had a more serious reaction – anaphylactic shock – and was screened off and taken upstairs to one of the wards.
“One of the weirdest things about chemo was walking to the toilet with your cannula still attached to the big hatstand thingy yet it seemed very normal and hassle-free.
“I’d recommend this book to anyone facing cancer or chemotherapy, or with family and friends facing it, but I’d caution against letting the at times alarming account of chemo given here instil fear and trepidation.
“Every cancer is different, and every person’s experience of the same cancer is different, and, as Chris Hoy himself acknowledges, ‘Chemotherapy is different for every single person who goes through it’.” “That’s very true, because I sailed through my chemo and I watched others do the same, sitting in the same room as them with no screens, chatting, reading, listening to music, looking out the window, one person even doing their business on the phone.
“All like a normal dayroom. I was lucky. One morning, getting treatment sitting next to a woman with cervical cancer, terminal like me, we talked about Scottish politics and culture and bonded like old friends, grateful for the chance to chat and cheer each other up.
“Chris Hoy talks about the benefits of cancer conversations with fellow sufferers after his initial treatment, and he’s absolutely right, but I had the added advantage of going through chemo in good company.
“That normalised it for me. I was lucky, and luck and thankfulness and optimism are things that Chris Hoy’s book is rich in.”
Sir Chris plans to lead a cycle event from Glasgow to Edinburgh next summer for fellow stage 4 cancer sufferers called the Tour de 4 (a great name thought up by his wife, Sarra, who’s had her own trials to deal with, as the book makes clear).
“I haven’t been on a bike in earnest for 50 years, but I might give it a go,” said West Ender Willy, pictured left.
The Olympian bravely revealed he had terminal cancer and had a life expectancy of two to four years in October.
Shortly after that he released his memoir All That Matters describing his cancer treatment and raw emotions during his battle with the disease so far. The 48-year-old athlete shared an emotional video to Instagram, thanking people who had sent messages of support.
He said: “Thank you to everyone that’s been in touch about my new book, All that Matters. The response has been overwhelming. So many of you have sent messages to me and to Sarra, so thank you. We do read every single one, but we aren’t able to reply to every single one, so this is a message to you.
“We had no idea of the impact it would have, so many people have said it has helped them, going through a tough time and going through a similar diagnosis.
“And so many men have gone to their doctors to get checked out which is amazing to hear. Many of you have found that you have got prostate cancer because of going to the doctor to get checked and get tested.
“But everybody that messaged me and told me that has also found out they caught it early without any symptoms so that’s amazing. Hopefully you will have a positive outcome from that and get on with your lives. So thank you all, you’ve lifted me up! It wasn’t easy writing a book so personal but I think it’s justified by the response we’ve had.”
Charity Prostate Scotland credited the six-time Olympic cycling champion for his openness about his diagnosis which has sparked an increased awareness of the disease. The charity said this has been reflected in its website stats for the past month, with 5,600 new users visiting in the past month – a rise of 69%. Sir Chris revealed in October that his cancer is terminal.
Shortly after Sir Chris’s terminal stage 4 cancer diagnosis, his wife Lady Sarra was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Sir Chris is also campaigning to have people take a PSA test in order to ensure early detection of prostate cancer. His appeal for earlier prostate cancer testing has prompted the Scottish Government to urge a review of screening for the killer disease.