Honestly, this is a very bizarre article for me to write for a number of reasons. First, I don’t even know if I will end up publishing this. I’m just scribbling this down as it seems to help me cope and understand what’s going on in my own head right now. Second, I’m writing some of this “live”, as it were. As I write this very bit right now, I don’t know if I’m going to be getting news I’m dreading or not and will update as I go. Third, if I do get the news I’m dreading, then I have already decided to keep it private for a while, until I get things right in my head. So this article may be the first time that some of my family and friends will know about this.

I guess that I should start at the very beginning, I hear that’s a very good place to start…

It was late November and I was getting up to start the day. As I was getting dressed, I noticed a small black mark on my toenail. I didn’t think much of it and assumed it was some grime that would come off when I have a shower later. I tend not to have a shower first thing in the morning. We have two small children (a 7.5 and a 5-year-old) and it is usually my job to get them up, dressed and ready for school. So my morning shower waits until after the school run. The morning routine begins, I have noticed the black mark on my toenail, but dismiss it, I get the kids up, dressed, breakfast, get their school bags ready and the school run is done. My girlfriend has gone to work for the day so I’m home alone. I make myself a cup of tea and sit down for a few minutes before I start my morning proper.

I have a shower, get dressed and I notice the black mark is still on my toenail. If it was a bit of dirt, surely it would’ve come off in the shower. Maybe it’s a bruise, maybe I stubbed my toe. But I don’t recall anything like that. I give my toe a little squeeze, there’s no pain. I take a closer look, it’s not a bruise. You know when you have a bruise, they may not always be perfectly round, but the edges are smooth. This wasn’t, this was a dark black/grey mark with, what I can only describe as, tenacles reaching out. It looked like a squashed spider. Maybe kind of fungal nail infection then, it happens. I decide to leave it to see if it gets worse. The black mark is on my radar, but I’m not worried about it.

A week or so later and it’s the start of December. Same old morning routine, get up, get dressed, get the kids ready for school, breakfast, school run, cup of tea and a shower. The black mark is still on my toenail and I think it may have gotten slightly bigger. Not by much, maybe even only a millimetre or so. You most probably wouldn’t even notice if you were not paying attention, but I was and I think it has gotten bigger, but I can’t be 100% sure. I decide that I should get a doctor to take a look at it, but I want to get Christmas and New Year out of the way first. I make note and even take a few photos of my toenail, just in case.

Christmas and New Year are done. The black mark on my toenail is still there, it may have gotten a millimetre or so bigger again. I’m still not sure. I compare it to the photo I took a few weeks back, but I’m still not sure. I think it’s gotten bigger. It’s time to get a doctor to take a look. It’s the first week of January and I can’t get a doctor’s appointment. A backlog following the Christmas break? The NHS being crap? Look, I have the utmost respect for the frontline workers in the NHS. The doctors and nurses, etc, they do a fantastic job. But the NHS is badly managed, and our government has pretty much ruined the service. So getting a doctor’s appointment here in the UK can be a bit of a joke, an unfunny joke too. It takes me a few days of trying but I eventually get an appointment for Monday the 6th at 10:20 am.

Monday comes and it’s the last day of the kids’ Christmas break before going back to school tomorrow. Both of our kids had some money gifted to them for Christmas, so mommy and daddy decide to take them to the toy shop so they can spend their money. Because we all know that just after Christmas when your kids have had loads of new toys, the thing they really want is more new toys. But first, my doctor’s appointment. I arrive at my GP’s office to find that they’ve had a water leak and I’m told this is causing a delay. Great start. I’m asked to take a seat in the waiting area and I do. There’s nobody else there, just me sitting alone and waiting. Even though there is nobody else waiting, my 10:20 appointment comes and goes and I’m finally called in to see the doctor about 20 minutes late.

I sit in the chair and explain the black mark on my toenail. I say that I’ve not injured it in any way and that I think it has gotten bigger since I first noticed it, The doctor takes a look, gives my toe a squeeze and asks if it hurts, it doesn’t. My GP taps away on his computer and tells me that he’s not sure what it is. Doc says that he wants to consult with another doctor and sends me on my way. Honestly, I felt a bit short-changed and as if I was being pushed out of the door. I was in the GP’s office for no more than two minutes. Told him about my toenail, he took a quick look, gave it a squeeze, didn’t hurt, he said he didn’t know what it was and I was sent away. I’m a bit pissed off, nothing has been resolved. So I think about doing a bit of self-medication. There’s a pharmacy nearby and I could pop in, get some ointment for nail fungus and treat it myself. But I paused, mistreating can be worse than not treating at all. I put the whole thing out of my head and decided to get a second opinion and ask to see a different doctor later in the week (if I can get an appointment). First, toy shopping with the kids.

So off we all go, mom, dad and the two kids. Where in this massive toy shop (seriously, it’s huge) and the kids are happy and smiling, they’re looking through the rows and rows, stacks of toys and picking things out before putting them back on the shelves. “I want this one!”, “No, I want this one.” Minds are changed frequently, and it’s getting a bit tedious as my kids can’t decide what they want to spend their Christmas money on. But seeing their faces light up with excitement is worth it. Then, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I take it out and see who’s calling me, it’s my doctor. I honestly don’t feel like having a conversation about my toenail in the middle of a toy shop, so I let it ring out and place my phone back in my pocket. But, it must be serious, right? A doctor does not call you back so soon after you’ve left his office unless it is serious.

Around 30 seconds after my phone has stopped ringing, I feel it vibrate in my pocket again. I don’t even need to take it out this time, I know it’s my doctor. I’m still not very comfortable about talking to my doctor in such a public place. so I ignore it again. But once more, that second call ends and my phone goes off again less than a minute later. Three times, three times in under two minutes. This is really serious, but I still don’t want to hold a conversation with my doctor while I’m in a toy shop. This call rings out and a few seconds later, my phone vibrates for the fourth time. This one isn’t a call, this is a voicemail, I can tell by the shorter vibration. Doctors definitely do not call you three times and leave a voicemail in quick succession unless it is something really fucking serious.

The toy shopping trip eventually ends, and we all go back home. The kids can’t wait to get their new toys out of the boxes and start playing. I need the toilet, so I go and after, I listen to the voicemail left by my doctor. I’m asked to call the GP’s office ASAP. Just as I’m about to call my doctor back, I get a text message. It’s from my GP with a link to an attachment on my patient file for me to read. I log into my profile and read, it’s an urgent (their word) referral for a cancer screening. I stare at my phone and the attachment, I read it several times, urgent cancer screening. I can’t seem to process what I’ve read and I walk back downstairs with my face still buried in my phone screen. I don’t get it, an urgent cancer screening? I’m reading the words, but they’re not making sense to me. I’ve gone from having a little black mark on my toenail a few hours ago to now needing an urgent cancer screening. It’s just not going in, it’s not making sense.

I walk into the living room and there are my two kids, happily playing with their new toys… and I need an urgent cancer screening. I walk into the kitchen where my girlfriend is, and I can’t talk, I can’t get the words out. I’m just staring at my phone. She notices that something is wrong and looks at my phone, urgent cancer screening. There’s silence followed by a hug.

Not long after that, my doctor calls me back and now that I’m not in a toy store, I can talk to him. He tells me that they suspect I may have a very rare form of cancer, an acral lentiginous melanoma. It’s the same form of cancer that killed Bob Marley. That’s the first thing that came to mind when my GP told me, Bob Marley. You see, Bob also found a black mark on his toenail (like me) in 1977 and he was told by more than one doctor that he would have to have his toe amputated and start treatment. Bob refused the treatment citing his religious beliefs. Long story short, the cancer killed Bob by 1981. Bob Marley was an idiot, and now the title of this article makes sense, no?

Anyway, with what the doctor told me, and Bob Marley instantly coming to mind, I decided right there and then that I was not going to be a Bob. If I do have cancer and have to have an amputation, they can cut off whatever they have to. My toe, all my toes, my foot, the whole fucking leg. I don’t care. But, that is IF I have cancer. As I wrote earlier, I’m scribing this “live” for the most part and right now I’m all caught up and I don’t know what is going on. Back to the phone call and my doc says that the hospital will be in touch within the next three days to arrange an appointment for my urgent cancer screening. That was when I realised that back in my GP’s office, he was not pushing me out of the door after two minutes to get rid of me, he was pushing me out the door so that he could consult with another doctor and get the ball rolling. When he said that he didn’t know what it was, he was telling the truth… from a certain point of view. He didn’t know, but he most probably suspected cancer, but didn’t want to say anything there and then until he had consulted. He did and now I have to have an urgent cancer screening.

Three days for the hospital to call me and if they don’t then I have to call them with a booking reference number and arrange the urgent cancer screening myself. Three days of waiting. This is the worst part, the waiting and not knowing. It’s like torture and three days seems like an eternity. The sooner I get screened, the sooner they will know, the sooner the cancer can be detected and the sooner it can be treated… if it can… if I have cancer. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day is painful. All I can think is that with each passing second, the cancer is growing and slowly killing me… if I have cancer. Each second is more time for the cancer to take over and each second makes it harder and harder for it to be treated… if I have cancer. You’re supposed to think positively, you’re supposed to tell yourself that it’s not cancer – but that’s not what’s going on in my head. Three days until I can book my urgent cancer screening.

It’s now Tuesday the 7th of January and the kids are back at school following the Christmas break. Aside from my doctor and the hospital, nobody knows about my urgent cancer screening except my girlfriend. We do the first-day back, school run together. We drop the kids off and walk out of the school gates, my girlfriend holds my hand as we walk back home and she asks, “Are you okay?” Such a simple question and I can’t answer it because I don’t know if I am okay. I still have not quite processed what has happened over the last 24 hours. How have I gone from a little black mark on my toenail and toy shopping to needing an urgent cancer screening? I’m kind of numb, I’m still trying to come to terms with the news and even worse… the waiting. I can’t think positively, I can’t take my mind off it. I may have the same form of rare cancer that killed Bob Marley.

I try to distract myself. I’m writing a book, I try to do some of that and all I can think about is that I need an urgent cancer screening. I write some drafts for article ideas on this blog and all I can think about is that I need an urgent cancer screening. Got to get some washing done and all I can think about is that I need an urgent cancer screening. I’ll play some games and all I can think about is that I need an urgent cancer screening. I take the dog for a walk and all I can think about is that I need an urgent cancer screening. It’s the waiting, it’s the not knowing. It’s fucking torture… and it’s only been one day, not even a full 24 hours since I was told. I just want to know two things. Do I have cancer and if I do, can it be treated?

It’s still Tuesday and I don’t have to wait three days for the hospital to contact me, as they called me in the early afternoon. I’m booked in for my urgent cancer screening on Thursday. Say what you want about the NHS and the slow service we sometimes get. I’ve just gone from a simple doctor’s visit on Monday morning to a suspected cancer diagnosis, to needing an urgent cancer screening by Monday afternoon, to being referred to the hospital, to having the screening booked in on a Tuesday for the following Thursday. That’s fast.. which makes it even more worrying. I don’t know if urgency is a good or bad thing. It’s good that I’m getting seen so fast as the sooner the doctors know, the sooner I know and the sooner cancer treatment can begin, if needed. It’s a bad thing because, if it wasn’t anything to worry about, then there would be no need for urgency to begin with, right?

Wednesday now and my screening is tomorrow afternoon. I’ll have to leave for the clinic in about 24 hours. It’ll be the same old morning routine. Get up, get dressed, get the kids up, get them dressed, breakfast, get the school bags ready, do the school run, get back home, have a cup of tea, have a shower… then wait. Even after the cancer screening, it’ll be more and more waiting. The scans, etc will have to be sent to the specialist at the hospital and my GP, they’ll have to be analysed to ensure any diagnosis is correct. If it’s not cancer, great and I’ll most probably be given some antibiotics or something to clear up a simple toenail fungus. But if it is cancer, then I don’t know. Everything changes. I would say “wish me luck”, but by the time you read this (if I do publish it), the scan will be long over and the news will either be good or bad.

Thursday, urgent cancer screening day. I don’t know if this possible cancer news had turned me into a hypochondriac or something. I’m fast approaching 50 and my muscles ache, my bones hurt, my knees click when I kneel down. That’s just a part of getting old, our bodies get tired, it happens. But with this possibility of having cancer hanging over me, I’m now connecting any and everything to it. My back/neck is a bit sore after sleeping funny, that’s the cancer. My feet ache after a walk, that’s the cancer. My elbow just clicked when I extended my arm, that’s the cancer. I may not even have cancer and yet, everything I feel is being connected to it. I know it’s all psychosomatic, but I just can’t help it. Let’s just hope the screening is negative so I can get back to just blaming being almost 50.

Have to get public transport to the clinic. Between our house and the clinic is my mom’s house. I even leave a little earlier as I’m planning on stopping off at my mom’s on the way there to tell her. But, I don’t. As I’m on the bus and trying to work out what I’m going to tell her, I realise that there’s nothing to tell… yet. I may or may not have cancer. Even I don’t know yet so what am I supposed to tell my mom? I don’t want her to worry for no reason. Eventually, I arrive near the clinic, it’s about a five minute walk from the bus stop. I make that five minute walk in 15 minutes. I don’t even think I realised it at the time, but every step I took was getting slower and slower. I knew I had to go to this cancer screening, but I was dreading it at the same time.

I get to the clinic, I go to reception and give them my name, I sit in the waiting area and I wait… and wait… and wait. What happened to this being an urgent screening? Around 15 minutes after my booked appointment, I’m called. The nurse greets and leads me to a room, she makes me feel less anxious with her calming voice and manner. “Have you ever had cancer before?” she asks. “Before” I think, does that mean I definitely have it now? The choice of word there sticks out to me. No, I’ve never had cancer… “before”. More questions come and then, nurse says that she needs to take photos of my toenail and the black mark. A few minutes later, 12 photos have been taken and nurse sends them over to the hospital while I am there, just to show that things are moving forward. “The hospital will, call you in two weeks”, she says. Two weeks, more fucking waiting and not knowing.

After the photos… that’s it, I’m sent on my way. That’s it – some photos? I could’ve done that. In fact, I did do that. I took photos of my toenail and sent them to my GP when I booked my doctor’s appointment that started this whole thing. No scan, not even a biopsy, just the photos. How can they tell if it is cancer from some photos and if they can, why didn’t they use the photos I sent to my doctor the previous week? And why does it take two weeks for the hospital to get back in contact with me? I could understand if they did a biopsy and had to wait for test results, etc. Two weeks to look at some photos? No rush, it’s only some possible cancer. Yeah, I guess there are hundreds, thousands of people already on the list ahead of me. They’ll be people already undergoing important cancer treatment right now. But here’s my line of thinking, why don’t they get these early screenings done and out of the way first? Some people won’t have cancer and the screenings will show that they can be taken off the list. This frees up valuable time and recourses for people that really do need them. I guess there are only so many cancer consultants/specialists and multiple people that they need to assess. I wonder what the cancer consultant to patient ratio is?

I head back home and get a taxi on the insistence of my girlfriend. Of course, taxi drivers like to indulge in a little chit-chat and I just so happen to get the chitiest-chatiest taxi driver in the world. I open the door and barely sit in the seat and he’s off. “Hey how are you today, what have you been doing?” I pause, do I say: “Just had an urgent cancer screening, might have a bit of the old cancer there”, and suck all of the energy out of the taxi before we have even set off and therefore leaving both he and I sitting there in an awkward silence for the entire journey? Or, do I make up a story about visiting a friend that lives near the clinic? I go for the latter… which kickstarts an epic chit-chat scenario that lasts the whole journey and one that I really don’t want to be in, as my head is a little preoccupied with the fact that I may have cancer and now have to wait two weeks to hear from the hospital. Honestly, the worst taxi journey I have ever had and not because of the driver, he was a top fella. It was because of me.

Got back from the screening a few hours ago and I’m now more nervous than before, the waiting is unbearable. Gave the kids a bath and put them to bed. Gave them both a little kiss on the head as they slept, how many more times will I do this? If I do have cancer, I mean. My kids are still young, I’m supposed to be around as long as possible to help and guide them into adulthood. What if I’m not? How many more daddy hugs do I get? How many more birthdays will I get to share with them? How many more family summer holidays? How many more Christmases? I need to stop thinking like this, but I can’t. Can’t the cancer just fuck off for 20 or so years and come back when I’m in my 70s and when my kids are grown up. Come after me then, I won’t be so pissed off about it. I know it might not be cancer and I have to wait to hear from the hospital, I know I’m supposed to be positive – but I don’t want to set myself up for a gargantuan fall. Worrying yourself silly that you might have cancer, to be told that you don’t has got to be far better than convincing yourself that you don’t, before your doctor says that you do.

Saturday the 11th now. Nothing happened on Friday except more waiting and thinking that I may have cancer. I need to stop this, think about something else, distract my noodle. I’ll watch some TV. I press the on button on the remote and the LG logo appears, I wait a few seconds for the TV to come on proper and what is playing? An ad for Macmillan Cancer Support. The narrator spouts various facts about cancer. “A person is diagnosed with cancer every 2 minutes in the UK”, he says. Quick, change the channel. It’s late Saturday afternoon and I’ve managed to get through most of the day not thinking about cancer. We watch a film as a family, mom, dad and the two kids. Wonder Park, a nice, light and breezy animation about a mom and her daughter building a model theme park in their house. It’s nice, it’s distracting. 10 minutes in and the mother has to go to hospital with a “mysterious” illness… it’s cancer, isn’t it? Even if it’s not, that’s what’s going on in my head while watching the rest of the film, the mom has cancer. No idea what happened in the film, all I was thinking about was cancer.

I can’t get away from it even if I wanted to. Something keeps reminding me and I’m not even purposely looking for it. Got some toilet roll from the shops and what does it have printed on the packaging? What to look out for is you have bowel cancer. I shit you not. Right there on the side of the outside packaging, a list of possible symptoms for bowel cancer, what to look out for and what to do if you have any of the symptoms. Even toilet paper is reminding me, I can’t not think about cancer. I can’t do much now other than wait until I hear from the hospital. I won’t do a daily update of me waiting, I’ll just get back into writing this as and when I hear some news.

Oh, before I do that, there is something. My lass works for a big international bank and through her work, she has Bupa (private healthcare) cover. It turns out that her policy covers the household, so I can get Bupa cover via her policy. I’ll still use the NHS, but Bupa too. That’s two lots of medical experts looking into this and two opinions, two possible courses of treatment, if it is cancer. Bupa may be a bit faster than the NHS too. But while I’m Bupa covered, there’s still a list and I have to wait until there is an available consultant near me. So yeah, more waiting…

Its’ now Monday the 20th. It hasn’t quite been the two weeks since my clinic visit (but two weeks to the day since the doctors appointment that lead to all this), but it has felt so much longer. Sitting down supping at my green tea with mint and the postie shoves a letter through the door. I freeze. We’ve had numerous letters thrust through out letterbox the last few days, but this one is different. I just have this feeling that it is from the hospital. I don’t get up right away, I finish my tea. I’m a little nervous and uneasy. Eventually, I go to the front door and there sticking out of the letterbox is a brown envelope, the NHS logo in the corner. Yep, it’s from the hospital. I could tell you what the letter says, or I could just post a picture of it right here.

No concerning features, I have been discharged from the cancer treatment. So, it’s not cancer then? All that worry for nothing, I don’t have cancer. To say that I’m a tad relieved would be a slight understatement. But I have questions, what is it then? Can they really tell it is not cancer from a few photos? I didn’t have a biopsy, I didn’t have a scan of any kind – just the photos. There’s a report with the letter that says it is most probably just blood from a trauma trapped under the toenail. But, as I said at the start of all this, I haven’t had a trauma to my toe. I even gave it a squeeze when I first noticed the black mark at the end of November and there was no pain. Yeah, the end of November and we are now coming up to the end of January. The black mark is still there, why as it not healed in almost two months The letter says that my GP will be in contact with me to discus any further treatment, but not cancer treatment. I have to wait again, with a lot less worry but several questions. I could get a second opinion via Bupa just to be sure.

It’s the 22nd of January now. I just compared the black mark on my toenail with the photos I took at the start of December. It’s moved and cancer doesn’t move. It spreads, but it doesn’t move. The black mark has moved upwards toward the edge of my toenail… as if it is being pushed as my nail grows. A few more weeks and I’ll most probably be able to clip most of it off. I’m no doctor but I’m pretty sure that you can’t do that with cancer, you can’t just clip it off with toenail clippers. So that letter from the hospital was right, just a bit of blood from a trauma. That’s why it hasn’t “healed”, it’s blood under the nail. Still, I’m 100% sure I didn’t have any toe trauma and as we all know, stubbing your toe is one of the worst pains there is, you don’t forget something like, that.

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve had this gargantuan weight on my shoulders. I’ve lay in bed wide awake worrying, I began thinking about getting a will set up and even thinking about funeral plans – just in case. I panicked about having to tell my family and my kids that I have cancer. And all this time, it was a bit of blood under my toenail. I feel fucking amazing right now. But you know what, I’m glad it all happened. It was utterly horrendous at the time and when I first read that referral for urgent cancer treatment, I was lost, numb and scared. Maybe my doctor did overreact, maybe he could have suggested I just leave it a couple of weeks and see if the black mark heals or moves as my toenail grows, perhaps just giving me some antibiotics for a week or so would’ve been better.  Maybe pushing an urgent (their word) cancer screening was a little over-the-top, but I’m glad that it happened the way it did. It was a real eyeopener and it has made me more observant of what is going on with my body as I get older.

I am going to publish this after all. You know why? Because the point is still relevant and I stand by the title too. Bob Marley was an idiot. Yeah a great musician and lyrist – but a total idiot. Bob famously sang: “Don’t worry about a thing. ‘Cause every little thing gonna be alright.” Don’t listen to Bob, do worry because that worry could save your life. What if I had ignored that black mark on my toenail, if I didn’t worry about it and if it was cancer? Bob didn’t worry, he was told that his cancer needed treatment. But instead, he turned down the treatment citing his religious beliefs. If he had worried, maybe the cancer could’ve been treated and maybe Bob would still be with us now. He’d be pushing 80 but possibly still going.

None of us are getting younger and as we age, be become more susceptible to things like cancer. If you find a black mark that was not there before, a mole that seems to have come out of nowhere, get it checked out. Look, I don’t care if someone is religious, I don’t care which of the several gods they chose to believe in – don’t be a Bob Marley and turn down medical treatment due to your religion. It doesn’t matter which religion you follow or which god you believe in but I do need to tell you something – god may not exist. You can believe in whatever you like – but that is not proof of existence. Do you know what does exist? Science, modern medicine, highly trained doctos and nurses. Put your faith in those first and foremost. You can still believe in your religion/god, just heed that medical advice first. Don’t listen to Bob Marley, he was an idiot.