I knew something was afoot a soon as I picked up the envelope. In the past it has contained a short letter to say that everything was fine – which is what Anne was told the previous week. But this time there was a longer letter with a leaflet all about bowel cancer screening and a plan of King’s College Hospital. I was offered an appointment for a wee chat. 

It was for the day we were due to arrive in Goa

After some deliberation I decided to reschedule the appointment and go to India on holiday anyway. What difference would a couple of weeks make? But it was on my mind the whole time we were away..

***

So it was that on Valentine’s Day, my 69th birthday, I had that wee chat at King’s, followed by blood tests. I learned that the majority of people do not return their test pack so they never find out if they have bowel cancer. Not until it may be too late. I find this shocking – or am I just saying that? We all know we are going to die someday, but who wants to know exactly when?

If you do submit your crap by post and receive a “come and talk about it” letter, it will inform you that you only have a 10% chance of already having cancer. But even if you don’t have cancer, it is probable that you have one or more polyps in your colon (given that routine screening is only offered to people over 60 years of age).

You may have no symptoms so far, but polyps may eventually become cancerous and therefore should be removed asap. That’s solely based on the stats, of course. All the medics can say is that there are tiny traces of blood in the sample you submitted. The sooner they stick a camera up your bum, the sooner they will find out if there’s anything wrong and the better your long-term prospects will be.

My blood test results came back quickly by email while I was on the train to Liverpool: all were said to be within the normal range. The clinical team said nothing to me about them and the “colinoscopy” was arranged for the following week.

Too good a pun to miss, surely?

***

Those who have been through it know that four or five days before your colonoscopy you must adhere to a strict diet of utter blandness to clear out your guts. I am generally a good patient and do what I am told but this was no fun at all. I like my food.

It was back to the 1960s

Mashed potato, plain pasta, boiled white fish or chicken, white bread, no sauce, no fruit or nuts or vegetables. (More or less the opposite of what we’ve been advised to eat for the last three or four decades and pretty well devoid of texture or flavour.) After the first day I was desperate for a chile con carne. It gets worse: no solids at all for the final 24 hours, apart from senna tablets. Then you have to force down the most disgusting gunge, which you are told to sip slowly to avoid throwing up.

It is guaranteed to empty your system before bedtime, and I can tell you that it starts to take effect quickly. On the morning of your procedure you must down a second dose; the toilet seat will become your friend and confidant.

And so to King’s one chilly Saturday morning

I won’t go into detail about the procedure itself except that I advise you to accept the sedation on offer! I was complimented on the condition of my colon, which was as clean as a proverbial whistle. This is very important because the colonoscopy will only work if the medics can see what’s up there. The photos are quite spectacular, even if hard for the “outsider” to interpret.

In brief: three small polyps were discovered and removed. There did not seem to be any serious concerns. I caught the 68 bus home and swiftly ordered a curry.

Why am I telling you this?

I am enjoying my life and I don’t want to get cancer. I don’t want you to get it either. Unfortunately it can’t always be avoided but mass screening is effective.

The procedure itself is routine and nothing to worry about. I have no complaints about the way I was treated and it wasn’t painful. Yes, the laxative is revolting but you will get over it. If it turns out to be bad news and you have to have a procedure, then better now that at any time in the past because the doctors know what they are doing. Don’t be one of the victims who forget to submit their crap by post.

As usual, my message is “get on with it”

My hospital visit and my subsequent whirlwind trip to Wirral done and dusted, I was finally able to concentrate on the One for the Wall album launch in Oxford.

It is mad to be knocking out CDs at a rate of one every two years; all original material, performed by pensioners who are scattered from London to Exeter. But what a wonderful thing, to still be able to perform in front of an audience at one of the oldest buildings in Oxford, Saint Michael at the North Gate. So it was that on 1 March we performed songs from Memoryland, as well as from our two previous albums. It went down well, but then I would say that.

On the following Monday, just before our departure for France, I had a phone call from the hospital advising me that all was well and that they would expect to see me again in two or three years. That doesn’t mean that nothing will change in the meantime, but these polyps normally grow slowly. So it was a good result.

So much to do and already in my 70th year! Yet, as I once more prepare to visit my 93-year-old mother (with dementia), I wonder if a very long life is really something to wish for. Fortunately we can’t see far into the future. Here’s a song from the new album broadly on that theme.