Chris Bryant recalls cancer diagnosis: 'I felt as if I had been punched in the stomach'
Rhondda MP Chris Bryant reveals in his own words what it was like to find out he had stage 3 melanoma.
The first thing I noticed was that the dermatologist was sitting behind a desk, with a file open in front of her that was open but had no writing on it, just a diagram of a head and a body.
It felt like she had something serious to say. My mind had been worrying about what she said when she cut out the little mole on the back of my head a week earlier. ‘It’s a bit thick – but I’ve known ones where that doesn’t matter’, she’d said. Somehow, that didn’t augur well.
When we were seated – I’d been advised to bring my husband. She came out with it fairly quickly and straightforwardly. It’s a stage 3 melanoma. Cancer. That big old word which isn’t as frightening as it used to be, but still packs a punch.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m no one special. Hundreds of people get this diagnosis, or something similar or worse, every day of the week. Millions are proud long-term survivors. If the thing had been on my back or my tummy I would probably not have said a word in public. But since the surgery on the back of my head is so dramatic I haven’t really had a choice but to talk about it, especially as I haven’t wanted to take time off work.
I’ve learnt loads since I first popped into see my GP ‘just in case’ on my birthday, 11 January:
Three things have really cheered me. Brexit seems to have turned parliament into a care home for the confused, but MPs have been enormously supportive. Literally hundreds of MPs have hugged me, asked after me, told me they are praying for me, and sent me lovely texts and notes. Not just my lovely Labour colleagues, either, but Tories who I have ranted at across the chamber, too, including the government chief whip and several members of the Cabinet. It’s a genuine community of human beings, many of whom have told me their own immensely moving personal tales. So when people tell you politics is a viper’s nest, don’t believe them.
It also struck me, as I sat in the prep room for my second surgery holding my husband’s hand, that only fifteen years ago I would have thought twice about bringing my partner with me. There were no civil partnerships or same sex marriages back then and I would have had to explain him away somehow. But sitting in Prince Charles Hospital in Merthyr Tydfil with Jared felt completely natural – and nobody batted an eyelid.
Finally, this may seem obvious, but the NHS is a marvel.
I cannot imagine what it must be like if you had to worry about the cost of treatment whilst going through this. One of the doctors was quite emotional about it. "I cannot thank you enough. The Labour Government introduced the cancer pathway and the urgent two week guarantee. That has meant I’ve been able to save hundreds of lives."
This isn’t a partisan point, either. It’s just an acknowledgement that the doctors, the nurses, the receptionists and the administrators rely on us politicians to get things right if they are to do their jobs. And that is truly humbling.