A Fair Dinkum Pain In The Neck

By Peter Henri

Himself an allied health professional, Peter found himself suddenly on the other side of the table when he was diagnosed with laryngeal cancer. This book follows his journey, both from the point of view of a surprisingly amateur patient and from that of a health professional, through emergency surgery, the ensuing radiotherapy, recovery and his eventual return to work.
Devoid of any hint of a victim mentality, this cathartic story serves as both an account of what the whole cancer trip is really like and a profound reflection on the damage to personal health, and to the general health of the nation, that comes from tobacco use.

"Mr Henri's book is an inspiration to anyone dealing with illness, or any adversity." Tabitha Ormiston-Smith.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Peter Henri
• Release date: Sep 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310569494

Peter Henri

Peter Henri was born and grew up in Sydney, Australia. He spent time as a young adult travelling and working in Queensland and the Northern Territory before returning to Sydney where he married. After the birth of his son, he and his wife moved to the rural coastal area, south of Adelaide in South Australia. They had a hardware business and a wholesale tool business before Peter trained to become a life insurance agent.Peter entered the Flinders University in South Australia where he studied sociology and psychology. Peter also studied Transactional Analysis and Gestalt Therapy. He was also part owner of a coffee lounge, the reason for that according to him is that it was the only way he could get a proper Italian-style cappuccino.Peter moved to the Northern Territory over twenty years ago where he enrolled at the Northern Territory University, that is now the Charles Darwin University. He graduated as a Social Worker and has worked as a mental health professional in the alcohol and other drugs field and in mental health, in various parts of the Northern Territory and north and north-west Queensland.A little over two years after he started his career in social work, he contracted laryngeal cancer, and it is the story of that, the treatment and the recovery from it that makes up the contents of this book.He continues to work in the mental health field and now lives in the Darwin rural area where he continues to enjoy the tropical climate that he refers to as Paradise.

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A

Fair Dinkum

Pain in The Neck

My Adventures with Laryngeal Cancer

Peter Henri

Copyright © 2016, A Fair Dinkum Pain In The Neck, is held by Peter Henri.

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used strictly in a fictitious context. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead or to actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

https://goo.gl/N6WUy5

EDITING by Tabitha Ormiston-Smith

ABOUT THE BOOK

It’s every person’s nightmare – a diagnosis of cancer.

Himself an allied health professional, Peter found himself suddenly on the other side of the table when he was diagnosed with laryngeal cancer. This book follows his journey, both from the point of view of a surprisingly amateur patient and from that of a health professional, through emergency surgery, the ensuing radiotherapy, recovery and his eventual return to work.

Devoid of any hint of a victim mentality, this cathartic story serves as both an account of what the whole cancer trip is really like and a profound reflection on the damage to personal health, and to the general health of the nation, that comes from tobacco use.

Contents

Introduction

1 The Hoarse Whisperer

2 In a State Interstate

3 Time to Stop Hoarsing Around

4 An Upside Down Muffin

5 The Goddess and the Fat Man

6 Towards Rundle Street East

7 The Incredible Shrinking Machine

8 Cents and No Sense

9 End of Daze

10 North to A Laksa

11 Sleeping in the Wet Spot

12 Fairmont Farewell

13 Talking Point

14 Ho, ho, ho, it's off to work I go!

15 Merlot the Magician

16 A Very Different Hospital Visit

17 The Check Down

18 To ee or not to ee

19 The Flying Shrink

20 Joining the FBI

21 Return to Paradise

22 In a Manner of Speaking

About the Author

Contact the Author

INTRODUCTION

When I first had thoughts about writing this I wanted to make sure that I didn’t make it another ‘how I survived cancer’ or ‘how I coped with cancer’ book. In fact, in the case of laryngeal cancer, it is my opinion that if you wake up after the operation, then you’ve survived, in which case a book on the subject would be extremely short and would simply read something along the lines of, Well, bugger me! I’m still alive. Mind you, if that was your thought immediately following the operation, then the statement would definitely need to be put in writing, as it would not be possible to state it verbally. By the same token, I did not want to write along the lines of those books that purport to offer the only cure, or the only way to prevent or recover from cancer. I prefer to think that it takes more than just a special diet, or an exercise regime, or a particular form of meditation, or a mind control technique as a stand alone miracle prevention or cure. However, it is also very important not to discount people’s experiences with cancer and what they believe helped them.

How long you survive after an operation, or chemotherapy, or radiotherapy, or all of those combined is, depending on your philosophy, either in the hands of the gods or what you can do yourself with the help of the health profession. Or perhaps it might be good thinking to have a dollar each way. You never know. In referring to the health profession I include all of health, that is, in my view, as well as medical procedures and pharmacotherapy, the health profession encompasses mental health, allied health and alternative health.

There is, however, an important choice. That is, whether you choose to focus on simply surviving and coping or whether you choose to add value to survival by dealing with it and getting on with living and seeing the experience as just that, a life experience that actually adds value to your life. And by living I mean growing. I don’t mean growing old, I quite simply don’t believe in that concept; you keep growing until you die. Certainly if you live past fifty or so, the physical wear and tear begins to show in no uncertain terms, and if you should live to a ripe old age there can be shrinkage and curvature and a lessening, or in extreme cases, a loss of some functions. However, that’s not growing old; it’s getting old or simply ageing, and more than likely, as in my case, the aches and pains are the rewards of a misspent youth. In other words, it’s a concept of time, of wear and tear, not of growth. So, if you don’t keep growing until you die, and that is growing in knowledge and experience and, most importantly, in the emotional and spiritual self, you are missing out on life.

I know some people in middle age who are quite a bit younger than I am in years, but who I believe appear and act older than I do in terms of being old. They seem to concern themselves with an ever-increasing need to add to the value of their material assets, and spend the day worrying about the future rather than getting value out of the day, and often without adding to the value of themselves as a human being. For them, their sense of childlike fun is replaced by ‘mature’ or ‘adult’ humour, and some can be heard to remark that their own parents’ or grandparents’ behaviour is as if they are into their second childhood. My thoughts on that are: why is it necessary to leave the first one behind? Keep it with you. After all, it’s part of you, so don't discard it and then find it later during a nostalgia trip in an old photo album. I also know people my age and older who spend their time looking back and commenting on what might have been, or using in my day as a preface to a statement. Well our day is now, today, not yesterday, not tomorrow. And lastly, I know some people who are substantially older than I am in years, but who show the verve and vigour and importantly, the good humour and sense of humour of youth. However, unlike the young, they have the wisdom of years to call on. So I do mean growing. Life is about experiences, and learning in all ways from those experiences is growth. Living, and therefore growing, in the human experience is also about love, both giving and accepting, and for me it was the love of family and friends that made the choice to deal with what beset me and get on with living and growing, rather than simply coping and surviving, an easy option. I will also add that I see my friends and my family as being all family and all friends.

Where am I coming from?

This account is written from several, although not necessarily discrete, perspectives. One, the essential one that underpins this story, is that of my own experiences, observations, behaviours, emotions and thoughts as a person who was afflicted by, and treated for, cancer, and of how it affected, and still affects, my everyday life, whether at home or at work, alone, or socially with my family and friends. Within this perspective, I write more or less in the same style that I use when I write personal letters and emails to my friends and family. I doubt that it would pass for an academic document, and it will be highly unlikely to win a literary award. Some of the passages in this are actually taken from letters written during the early stages of my recovery, although names have mostly been deleted, and some parts have been paraphrased or added to. However, this style reflects my attitude to the situation, and how I view life in general. Writing letters was a significant strategy, at that time, in helping me come to grips with and deal with my situation. And I should warn that cynicism pervades my everyday talk. Black humour also sits comfortably with me.

Most importantly, though, I am an optimist, and by that I don’t mean seeing the glass as half full rather than half empty. To me, as soon as the term ‘half’ is applied to the glass, it becomes a pessimistic view. For me it is irrelevant whether the glass is half full, a quarter full, or even whether it has anything in it at all, because I have the confidence and optimism that there will always be more to fill it again. Don't believe me? Water makes up most of all types of drinks, so have a look at the ocean; check out the pictures of Lake Eyre when it fills, when water pours off Uluru, when flood waters reach out across the Channel Country after a long drought, when the Wetlands of the Top End come alive during our monsoon season. Better still, go there when it happens and have a look yourself. It's how we care for water that matters. The water on our planet is still with us and has been for countless millennia. It’s whether we fuck it up and make it unusable that determines whether we will be able to fill the glass with drinkable water in our children’s future. But I digress.

A second perspective comes from that of being a patient within the health care system, and in particular, both an inpatient and an outpatient in two large public hospitals. In my case, however, apart from the hospitals, specialists and GPs, there were other important players within the health care system. They included allied health professionals, especially speech pathologists, nurses, district nurses, dentists, occupational therapists and chemists. As well, there were the medical supply companies and others that were, and in some cases still are, involved. The federal and state, or in my case Territory, welfare systems are also important participants in the overall health system. And it is here that I