In October 2012 I was diagnosed with oesophageal cancer. By mid-November the tumour had been removed along with much my oesophagus and part of my stomach. Due to the nature of the tumour I did not have to endure any chemotherapy or radiotherapy. I am aware of four other men, all married, three of them with children, who were diagnosed with other cancers around the same time – between a year before and a year after. Brain tumours, liver and bowel cancers. All of them are dead. I can’t help but wonder when I cross paths with their wives, and for one of them it’s every few days at least, that when they look at me they think, ‘Lucky bastard. Why couldn’t it have been my man?’ Now, none of them has ever said anything remotely like that, and all have been as friendly and as pleasant as you would expect long term friends or acquaintances to be, but I think it. Every time. Now, I’m not losing sleep over this, and I don’t think I require any sort of therapy, but it gnaws at me.