As he left the office, Michael Powertold colleagues he'd be back in a few hours. He had no idea that his appointment with the doctor would lead to a diagnosis of Hodgkins lymphoma and a much longer break from work
IT WAS a beautiful September morning when I left my office, mentioning to a colleague on the way out the door that I would be back in a couple of hours, after what I thought would be a harmless medical consultation in the Mater hospital.
An hour later, after Dr Helena Rowley, ear, nose and throat consultant, had advised me that "in her experience a lump like that was indicative of something to be concerned about", I was waiting for a bed to come available, so that I could be admitted to hospital for the first time in my life.
I had noticed the lump that she was referring to under the skin on my neck a few weeks earlier but didn't think anything of it. That bed became available before I could get a chance to catch up with what was going on. Circumstances took over and I have not been back to work since that fateful morning over a year ago.
There are years in our lives containing events that affect us deeply and alter the course of what may otherwise have been determined by a notional life plan. Last year was one of those years for me. I thought that turning 40 in May was to be the main life-altering event for me in that year.
Little did I realise that there was something bigger planned for me on the horizon. The late John O'Donohue, poet and author, wrote that "on its way towards us, destiny travels silently, until it arrives". My destiny that September was to be diagnosed with Hodgkins lymphoma.
Such was my ignorance of the disease that, at the time, I didn't know that it was a form of cancer. This had to be explained to me.
After spending that week in the Mater hospital, undergoing a small operation and what seemed like a frenzy of different tests, the full extent of my diagnosis was determined. I had Stage 2 Hodgkins lymphoma, which by all accounts was one of the cancers to pick if one had such a strange sense of humour as to be picking a form of cancer. Treatment was to be eight months of chemotherapy as an outpatient of St Vincent's Ward at the Mater hospital under the guidance of Dr John McCaffrey.
My experience of going through chemotherapy was not at all as bad as I perceived it might be. I had been advised not to work during it and am forever grateful to my employer for facilitating this.
I received a session of chemotherapy every two weeks, would have to rest on the day of the treatment and would feel sickly for the following week.
My strength would then build again in advance of the next session. Most of my hair disappeared, although a friend cruelly reminded me this was happening naturally anyway prior to the treatment.
It's comforting to have such friends in a time of need!
I quickly developed a new daily routine. Eat a healthy breakfast, take my pills, maybe meet a friend for coffee or lunch or take a long walk on Dollymount beach soaking up the sea air.
It wasn't such a bad experience and at times I felt guilty that it wasn't more of a struggle or that I wasn't working. It even supported me in taking on a much healthier diet.
I now have juiced vegetables in the morning, eat more fish, drink more water and fewer pints of the black stuff. A life experience with some positive outcomes.
I concluded the treatment at the end of May and after examination received what was essentially a clean bill of health a month later.
In coming towards the end of my treatment I decided to take some time off work to enjoy other aspects of life and thus began a career break in July. This has been going splendidly, starting with two weeks of beautiful sunshine on a little island in the Canaries called La Gomera, to hill walking in Scotland, surfing in Sligo and attempting golf in various locations.
I especially enjoyed the opportunity to climb Croagh Patrick on 'Reek' Sunday with an estimated 25,000 others. The feeling of aliveness that I felt on top of the mountain, looking out over the beauty of Clew Bay, was only partly diminished later in the day by watching Cork overcome my fellow Claremen in the All-Ireland Hurling Championship qualifier while in the company of some "rebel" friends.
Before that fateful day when I was admitted to the Mater hospital I had neither taken a sick day in almost 20 years of work or had attended hospital as a patient. Apart from spending time with my father when he was a patient in the Regional Hospital in Limerick in the early 1990s I also had little experience of hospitals as a visitor. So my perceptions of hospitals and our health system were principally based on anecdote and media reports.
To my surprise my experience was very different to what I expected. The service I received was what I would consider to be a model of excellence.
At all times I felt that I was being cared for by true professionals who knew what they were about and had an ability to be totally present to my concerns as a patient. All of the medical teams seemed to work well together and kept me informed of everything that was being done for me.
The way of being taken on by all the staff I came in contact with, from those cleaning the wards and pushing the trolleys to the top consultants, inspired me in such a way that it contributed to my return to health of itself.
There were many times during my treatment when I came across less-than-positive coverage of our health service and felt that I should share my experience to offer an alternative view. But I didn't. I guess that the pull to share our experiences is greater when they are negative. In today's world, which moves on so fast, we quickly forget the positive.
I believe the service I received at the Mater hospital could not have been surpassed. If this is an example of the model that we are being asked to support by the HSE as part of its centres of excellence strategy, then it most certainly has my vote and I would encourage all to support it.
• If you have had a health experience - good or bad - that you would like to talk about, contact healthsupplement@irish-times.ie