On the 13^th October, 2025, I wrote a brief note in my journal. “My back pain is getting worse so have booked an MRI at Shellharbour tomorrow.” I had experienced sciatica type pain so asked my GP for a referral for an MRI thinking it would be useful before going to a physiotherapist.

The next day John drove me out to Shellharbour, where I underwent an MRI, which stands for Magnetic Resonance Imaging.  At first I was too nervous to open my eyes inside the tubular scanner in case I felt claustrophobic, so kept them tightly shut.  The tinny music tried unsuccessfully to drown out the bangs and rattles of the machine so that my fears became mere frustration at the quality of the headphones.   After a ten-minute wait I was told I would have a cannula inserted to inject contrast dye and go through it all again.  Stepping out into the sunshine afterwards was wonderful. We drove off to nearby Shell Cove for a poke bowl lunch, gazing across the water at the boats in the new marina, not a care in the world.

As we were driving home my phone rang.  It was the doctors’ surgery.  My GP wanted to see me at 4.15pm that afternoon.  I started to worry that something was seriously wrong because otherwise why did she want to see me so soon?

She came out straight away with, “I’m afraid it’s not good news”.

She told me I have a lesion on my spine.  That is what is causing the pain as it is pressing on nerves.  What is more concerning than that is she thinks it is a secondary, so I have a cancer somewhere else.  The way she was talking I’m going to be in serious trouble. She thought we should get the family together.  John teared up a bit but I felt strangely calm. I’ve had a good life with a rewarding job, happy marriage, children and grandchildren but I’m not ready to give up yet.  At 74 years of age I feet fit and healthy, apart from a niggling back pain so I am ready to fight whatever it is that dares to invade my body.