I’m always very wary about saying to anyone that I’m feeling good – it’s tempting fate. You know that thing when a body radiates brightly just before it stops radiating at all.

But, for quite a few days since undergoing my radiotherapy treatment, I really have been feeling good and quite at peace with myself.

I shouldn’t have been surprised, then, that on Sunday afternoon all those good vibrations came crashing to an abrupt and almighty thud on a very hard pavement about half a mile from my house.

I was out for a walk with Laura and Mishka when the mutt fancied saying hello to a passing dog – that was all it took. Steroids give the impression I am fairly robust. I’m not. A slight pull of the lead at an awkward angle totally upended me.

There was a sickening crunch as I spun and landed on my left shoulder and side.

Clutching Laura’s arm, I hobbled home – the extreme pain partly masked by shock, and my mind and body fuelled by adrenalin – before agreeing that I needed to go to A&E.

There was a lot of drama in the emergency department but I was seen swiftly, triaged and X-rayed. I was in agony but thankfully my background levels of morphine had taken some of the edge off the pain that was coursing through every part of my body’s left side, neck to toe.

The AC joint in my shoulder is both broken and dislocated. Three ribs close to the surgery site for my lung removal are also broken and there’s severe bruising and torn muscles in my left butt and upper left leg. The clinical staff oozed care and sympathy, it seemed. They had asked me how it all happened, and I explained my terminal cancer status and vulnerabilities – “all that and now all this”, I can almost hear them think.

The consultant and nurse got me in a sling and sent me home with an appointment for the acute fracture clinic in two days. The consultant told me I may be offered surgery to repair the broken shoulder but the other option might be to just let it heal in the sling over the next two months.

I hear what he is saying. Surgery is best for a long-term fix.

On Tuesday, the orthopaedic consultant agreed with my choice of option two – the sling. He had my medical notes on his screen. We are on the same page.

To check the ongoing effectiveness of my chemotherapy and immunotherapy, I got a CT scan on Friday and tomorrow I go for an MRI scan to see if the treatment to the brain tumours has worked – the NHS is determined not to give up on me, despite myself, God bless them.

The least I can do is keep smiling and stop falling.

Ally McLaws is a freelance specialist in writing, business marketing and reputation management. See the full range of services on offer and view all previous back issues of this column at www.mclawsconsultancy.com