I’m not one for going to the doctors. In fact, the last time I went would have been years ago, and as if to bear that out I believe the practice has moved premises in the meantime! But with the twinge in my left side becoming more than a little annoying I popped into the local medical centre during our last but one house-sit complaining of that and a touch of bloating. Expecting to be told I might have IBS or any one of the myriad gastric issues supposedly arising from a western diet I left with antibiotics and painkillers for what was possibly a slight kidney infection. I thought little more about it even after the follow up visit when, with the twinge having subsided and the bloating under control, I asked if I might have ultrasound imaging to update a very old diagnosis of a slightly fatty liver. I was there after all, and it would be interesting to see if giving up alcohol back in August of last year had made any difference - not that I was expecting to be told my pickled liver had miraculously rejuvenated itself. But perhaps it might be looking a little healthier?  

What I certainly wasn’t expecting was to be told was that I had a tumour in my pancreas.
 
A CAT scan would reveal more, and two weeks later Jas and I were sitting with an upper gastro-intestinal, liver, biliary and pancreatic surgeon discussing the situation and where to go from there. Seeing his serious expression and hearing the words cancer and malignancy in the same sentence while being introduced to the lovely woman who would be my counsellor going forward, suddenly it was all too real, all too serious, and all too frightening. Pancreatic cancer sits at the bottom of the table for survival rates; it’s the one you really don’t want to have and that’s why, having sent Jas off to work that afternoon I threw myself into a full-on weeping, wailing, ranting, why-me fest before conceding that strangely enough, I actually felt fine. I had no clear symptoms and given the annoying twinge had disappeared almost as quickly as it had materialised I could hardly be at deaths door.

And so, as most of us do in these situations, waiting the short time for the next investigative procedures - a camera down the throat and biopsy followed by an MRI - I turned to the internet for more information and found it full of stuff on fighting cancer with the right focus and a heavily plant based diet. How easy could that be? Already I was seeing the final score as me one, cancer nil and you can't get more focused than that! Discovering that these nasty invasive cells just love sugar and amino acids, the fridge and cupboards were cleared. Out went the designer ice-cream, the brie-slathered baguettes and Nigella Lawson’s favourite chocolate, along with all dairy and meat. In came salads, vegetable curries and healthy carbs.  And for the first time ever, I was cooking from scratch. I’m not a saint though and completely fell off the wagon last weekend at our niece’s romantic wedding in Napier. Hitting the champagne with complete abandon I also made short work of the lovely desserts, not to mention the fabulous wedding cake. You see, it’s not the will-power I lack, just a touch of the 'won’t' power every now and then!