By Ally McLaws

So the chicken and dairy diet did the business and my white blood cells multiplied sufficiently to allow my fourth and final triple chemo/immunotherapy session to go ahead on Tuesday.

A milestone on my journey reached. Three months of controlled medical poisoning designed to kill cancer with as little collateral damage to me as possible.

But round every corner is another corner and mine will be the CT scan – to show the all-important measure of what has been happening inside my body for the past three months of intensive treatment.

My choice now is to stay on this roller-coaster of angst and adopt the enforced blinkered approach until that day comes when I am called to a meeting with my oncologist to hear the verdict: deferred, admonished or capital.

Or I could put blinkers on and escape this morbid queue for news and simply retire to a happier place in my mind.

I have become good at waiting over these past 10 months since the dreaded spectre of lung cancer first crept into my brain.

There’s been a lot shoved into the cupboards and recesses of my memory – stored in corners where the light doesn’t often shine.

Things like having my whole left lung cut out, coming home only to collapse and be blue-lighted to hospital that same night as a blood clot in my remaining lung blocked my oxygen; then again when home and during recovery collapsing to be rushed back to hospital, this time because of leaking blood-stained fluid which filled my chest like a pressure cooker squishing up my remaining lung and displacing most of my key organs. After two weeks of chest drains and pain I clung desperately to the hopeful fallback position that at least the surgery had removed the cancer.

Then that horrible numb moment when a test came back to say the cancer had penetrated the lung wall before it was surgically removed and was again active in a lymph node and in my chest wall.

Each chapter brings new surprises – and there haven’t been many good ones so far. This time I’m hoping the CT scan delivers an uplifting and hopeful collection of prose.

If the scan shows good results the only choice facing me will be to move on to immunotherapy on its own or combine it with a single dose of chemotherapy for a while longer for marginal extra gain ... a discussion topic that can wait until I hear the news.

I know this is about potential time extensions and not a golden ticket to a letter from the Queen on my 100th. So, with that in mind, many might imagine the thing to do is draft up a bucket list – an enjoyable thing to do and plan for.

Given this time of global Covid-19 restrictions that seems nigh impossible but, to be honest, I’ve had the kind of life where much of what I’ve wanted to do I’ve already done.

Okay, I haven’t been to Japan and I’d like to see polar bears in their natural habitat. But I’ve been in helicopters, sky-dived, scuba-dived in the Red Sea, cruised the Med and Atlantic, climbed mountains, travelled to dozens of countries, rocked along with Roger Daltrey and The Who, and so much more between ... I’ve even been with many beautiful women in my time and now I’m married to the best of them. What more could a boy ask for?

So, my bucket now is a humble little affair and I’m filling it with things that could more closely be described as a back-pocket list perhaps. But they are hopeful and positive little things that make me smile and give me much to look forward to ... because looking forward is my strongest card in the pack right now.

I’ve booked up a few days at Airth Castle hotel in May next year to celebrate my daughter’s wedding ... can’t beat a right good family gathering of fun, frolics and memories. Immediately after it I’ve booked a nice country house for Laura and me and our beloved boxer dog Mishka to relax and unwind.

I’m also having a bit of fun shopping online for a new car to replace my ageing eight-year-old Vauxhall manual. I need an automatic now that my left side and arm is a bit “creaky and sore” after surgery and recent events, making gear changes painful and tiring.

And in June I’ve been as bold to book a cracking cottage in Little Haven in Wales for a holiday beside the sea and coastal walking paths. Now there’s confidence for you.

I have taken the precaution of purchasing cancellation insurance on all of these bookings, though.

And if the treatment all goes well, I might even be able to end my medically imposed alcohol prohibition order and at the wedding and thereafter take a wee “bucket” of my own to celebrate getting that far into 2021.