Oh I know what you’re thinking! The first thing that popped into your head when diagnosed with leukaemia was “how will this affect my fitness regime?”.

Ok – maybe not. But, for me, it has recently become a part of my journey and I’m kinda hoping that some of my experience might help one or two of our wonderful community, so strap yourself in, take a couple of shots of expresso to keep yourself awake, and here we go!

So – I’m a big guy. 6ft 2 inches since I was 15 and shoulders than could span a reasonably-sized river. In my youth, I played lots of sports, one to a particularly high level but inevitably as career took precedence, sport kind of slipped away until my 40s. My weight held pretty consistently around the 13 stone mark throughout my 20s and 30s but now I find that as I rapidly approach 60, time and tide did in fact wait for this man, but only to bring him significantly more weight.

So, at the point my various medical challenges resolved themselves into a lymphocytic leukaemia diagnosis, I was just over 16 stone. As I’ve detailed in other blogs, I then entered a downward spiral, as my head dipped below the waterline of depression, worry for my wife, depression, anxiety, depression, fear, more depression and then finally, some depression. So basically, the bog standard reaction to being diagnosed with an illness that at the time was described to me as having “no cure and is always terminal” (obviously a lot has changed in that respect in the last 5 years and the future is particularly exciting from that perspective).

I continued to play golf (increasingly badly) but a combination of comfort eating, the impact of almost constant pain and fatigue and the lack of normal social ambulatory exercise at work meant that my weight went upwards faster than a hyperactive firework on Bonfire Night. You see, I have no will power. I had started exercise regimes 50 million different times in my life but not stuck with a single one of them (it is possible I may have exaggerated there a smidgeon). I hate exercising and I hate gyms. I hate the atmosphere in gyms. I hate the people in gyms. I hate the little smirks from tanned Adonises as I creep self-consciously out of the changing room with my big fat body and my two pieces of string hanging out of my shorts (my legs, before you start wondering about any other interesting options), and I particularly hate the fact that those perceptions exist only in my head but I can’t get them out of there. In reality, what I hated was myself.

What I (utterly) lack in self-confidence, I more than make up for by over-indulging in self-consciousness. So of course, I went to two or three sessions in a gym and then never went back. I used a million excuses – the machines were too confusing, the weights were too cold (honestly!), I couldn’t get on with the rowing machine (I misunderstood what kind of rowing it was and tried to start an argument with it) – you know, the usual pitiful excuses one makes to justify a decision I had actually reached five minutes after signing up – that I was never coming back. It’s a weird sensation to be planning how to cancel a direct debit before you’ve even signed up for it. A sensible well-rounded individual would say “actually my good man, I’m quite happy being a walking heart attack candidate so I have no need of your healthy life-enhancing services, thank you” but oh no – not me. I meekly thanked him profusely and confirmed enthusiastically how much I was looking forward to using his wonderful machines that looked suspiciously like they could exact a confession from a medieval malefactor – while simultaneously looking up my bank’s direct debit cancelation process. I swear I could almost hear the screams from the inmates as I exited their plush front door.

Then came lockdown and my one effort at some sort of exercise (golf) was no longer available. Comfort eating became more of a regular pursuit than breathing. I mean, breathing is wonderful and all, but it just doesn’t taste of chocolate, does it? One day, I stood on the scales and they immediately ran out the door screaming and were last seen getting counselling in a kibbutz 1,426 miles away.

20 stone. Twenty bloody stone!

31st December is always a difficult day for me. It’s the day I died (twice) when I had my heart attack. It makes me reflective and so in 2021, I decided I was going to lose weight (largely so I didn’t have to go through the excruciating pain of another heart attack which is as good a motivation as any).

But what to do? There was no point in pretending I was going to join a gym (at least this time I had a good excuse – they were all closed for lockdown). So what should I do? I genuinely used to enjoy Wii Fit years ago but it died around the same time as my willingness to accept that cauliflower was anything other than a source for nuclear power. You wouldn’t put lipstick on a pig, so why waste perfectly good cheese on something that should just be burned as part of the process of creating electricity?

Anyway, dedicated investigation and exhaustive research (by the wife, not me) revealed the fact that Nintendo had released a new fitness application for its Switch games module. Nintendo Ring Adventure – a name which raised all kinds of disturbing images in my head, I can tell you. Was it something you did in a circle of other people while they counted how many times your belly hit your knees while you jogged on the spot?

Well, with all these concerns cautioning me, I splashed out and purchased said games module and game. And you know what? I absolutely bloody love it.

I can do it in the lounge with a little exercise mat and it is the most fun I’ve had with my clothes on since that disturbing episode with the snorkel, sewing machine and bathful of custard. For a long time, I worried that when my bouts of pain and fatigue were at their worst, would it matter if I only did one or two sessions a week? What if the exercise made things worse? (I never said that my thoughts always make sense. Or indeed, ever make sense!). What if I just got sick after exercise? What if I had a heart attack while exercising?

And then I had a flash of enlightenment. As long as I am sensible and listen to my body, it actually doesn’t matter because doing anything is better than doing nothing. It doesn’t matter if I weaken and have a couple of days off or have a piece of chocolate cake because I know now that I can get straight back on the wagon tomorrow. I didn’t set myself any goals other than saying to myself I just want to lose weight and I’m going to exercise even if its just for a few minutes, 4-5 days a week. So as I don’t have a target to hit, I can’t miss it (and therefore get discouraged).

As you can see, I started light but found myself enjoying it so much that I now do quite a lot. Now I go cycling, or walking or do a session on Ring Adventure five days a week and I actually look forward to it (most days). As of yesterday, I can also play golf now too. And if I miss a day, so what? I just get back at it the next day when I feel up to it. I know that serious exercise/ fitness folks would probably laugh at my pitiful efforts (I’m sure they wouldn’t actually – they’d probably all be really encouraging and kind) but because I’m at home, the only person who can see it is me. I’m doing it at my pace and in my own time.

And it occupies my time – time when I’m not sitting there worrying about cancer-related stuff – and that is a huge positive for me.

Worry, concern, confused perspective and lack of self-confidence affect many (perhaps even most) cancer patients. But if I can do this, anyone can do this. I was a lazy, indolent slob, happy to wallow in my own depression, pain and fatigue. And if I feel so awful that I just can’t face it – no problem. I’m not going to knock myself down for that. As my beloved counsellor (and friend) Heather used to say “Everything in moderation. Including moderation”. I’m pretty certain she’s looking down on me proudly.

I feel healthier and I feel fitter. I’m not measuring anything because for me, that is counter-productive (but works really well for others – there is no one size fits all in this world). I feel a little more self-confident and all the worries I had about starting exercise are well behind me now.

But more than anything else, I feel better about myself. It hasn’t got rid of my leukaemia and like all of us, I face the challenges that brings every single day. But I feel better about myself – and that, if nothing else, makes it worth doing.

But the point here is not that you too can start an exercise regime whatever your age, weight, fitness or anything else. The point is that although we face challenges because of our cancers, we can still take on new challenges with strength fortitude and bravery. You can all do anything you want to (within the boundaries of common sense and reason). You know why?

Because we’re cancer fighters. Every last bloody one of us. Heroes all and though I’ve never met you, I know that we are all in the same army against this fight, and for that fact alone, you are my brothers and sisters in arms.

Stay strong. Fight hard. Smile lots.