Legs eleven

Right from the start of this cancer marathon, it's been my legs that have told the story. It started you will recall, three years ago now, with me noticing that one leg was fatter than the other; shunted me into a sidetrack where the blinkered NHS saw the only likely cause as a DVT despite the fact the leg continued to expand and then thanks to the French the cancer was discovered right up in the vein in aforementioned fat leg. Once the vein was out the leg continued to be "my fat leg" it got lymphoedema and I had to wear sexy thick compression stockings. I got by though. I could walk and that helped.

Since the paralysis set in a couple of months ago the poor old legs have had another story to tell. For a start they are all floppy and I can't control them at all, or feel them in the slightest for that matter. And because they aren't being moved and I spend my time perched up above them, they are apt to swell to enormous proportions given half a chance.

Well that was the story they were telling until a week ago, but no more! A transformation has taken place. An angel in the guise of a specialist lymphoedema nurse walked into my life and after just four visits I have legs that are almost normal. There they were bloated and literally weeping. Stewart had to heave them in and out of the hoist; we had to pad the wheelchair so that they didn't bruise from being squeezed into the bars; they were probably the ugliest legs on the planet. Then in walks Jane and after she binds them up for a few days in Michelin man type bandages and fits new compression hosiery, I have legs I can almost be proud of; can take out and show to the public in fact.

I did in fact take them out on Saturday, neatly tipped in crocs sandles, and I haven't worn shoes for months; when our friends Mike and Mary from Galway (well actually Mary is from up the road from where I'm from and Mike round the corner from where Stewart lived, but they live in Galway now) took us out for a meal of soup, posh fish and chips and rice pudding. Just what the doctor ordered and my legs and the rest of me filled our boots!

Talking of legs, please will you sponsor my friend, Diana's legs to run a lot of miles in aid of cancer research. She is doing it in my name in the Race for Life. I have added details of how to sponsor her in the column on the right. She is also Harry and Danny's other nanny and like them has a fine pair of pins I am sure.