Hi Sarah,

I promised I'd answer this when I'd had a chance to reflect. Apologies if I seem to repeat what others have posted but I've deliberately not read anyone else's posts on this topic first.

1. When you first noticed ‘something.’ That first awareness that something wasn’t quite right.
My GP and I both thought my symptoms were likely to be a peptic ulcer, or a flare up of my ulcerative colitis - especially as I responded well to antacid tablets and to PPIs (used to alleviate acid reflux). 
How wrong we were!
At this point I felt this was just a minor inconvenience.

2. Did you share your concerns with anyone? What was that point when you acknowledged something might be wrong?

My wife was the first to be concerned. It took a week or two before I admitted that maybe Gaviscon wasn't the answer.
I was worried that I might have an ulcer, either oesophageal or stomach, and blamed it on my stressful job in the NHS.

3. Your memories of that first appointment.

My GP appointment was pretty routine. I then waited for several months before I saw an Upper GI Consultant. He asked me all the usual questions and told me that cancer was unlikely as I was the wrong age, was very fit, didn't smoke, didn't drink heavily, wasn't in pain, had a good diet and hadn't lost weight. 
At this point I was still quite sanguine - all the indicators were a peptic ulcer but I was aware cancer was a possibility. Maybe I was in denial, but I didn't give cancer much thought.

4. Going for tests
After another wait I had an endoscopy and before the camera had even reached my stomach the atmosphere in the room changed and the Consultant said "there's a large growth here, I'll just take a few biopsies to check out what it is". Then you need to go for a CT scan. 

I realised that this was a life-changing moment. I didn't feel scared - simply numb. 

5. Waiting for results

This was Hell on Earth for me and my family - hoping for the best and fearing the worst. I'd been through a couple of scares before when I was tested for bowel cancer following bad bouts of ulcerative colitis. This was different as I knew I had some sort of growth. I had already decided to go for chemo if the growth was confirmed as cancerous - plus surgery and anything else that was on offer. My Mum had died of bowel cancer a couple of years earlier, so that combined with my NHS job made me aware of what the cancer care pathway entailed. A mixed blessing, sometime ignorance is bliss.

6. What can you recall about getting the results? Maybe it wasn’t the bad news you were dreading?

I can remember every last detail, my wife asking him to confirm that what he referred to as a tumour was cancer through to the nurse commenting on how calm I was and asking "you knew he was going to say that, didn't you?" My answer was that I was expecting the diagnosis to be oesophageal cancer but that I wasn't expecting him to say that I might be dead in 8 weeks and that chemo would only be for palliative reasons. 

7. Telling loved ones “it’s cancer”. How did you share the news with friends and family

My wife was with me and was devastated and physically shocked by the news. I phoned my son and my Dad from the car park. They knew I was getting my results and I just told them in a matter of fact way what the diagnosis and prognosis were. I emailed my boss to say it had been bad news and that I was taking the day off work. After ringing round close relatives - I posted the news on Facebook. This may seem bizarre but I'd had so many people message me on there wishing me good luck with my results that it would have taken hours to phone everyone. 

8. Coming to terms with having cancer

The cancer was the easy bit - the fact that it was stage 4, had spread and because of its position was both inoperable and unsuitable for surgery was difficult. The hardest bit was being told that there was a good chance that I'd be dead within 8 weeks and almost definitely wouldn't survive much more than 12, maybe 18 months even if the chemo was a success.
I just decided that a 5% chance of survival was worth chasing - after all 5% means one in twenty people survive ... why not me?

9. Coping with treatment
I was on EOX chemo for several weeks - I coped with it by forcing myself to go out and exercise the day after my infusions and returned to work within 2 or 3 days. That approach lasted for 9 weeks, after that the cumulative effects of the chemo were debilitating.

My feelings were mixed, I wanted the chemo to be successful and I was determined to take as much as I could as I told myself if this is hurting me so much, it must be hurting the cancer more on the other hand I obviously wanted the side effects to end!

10. Are you living with cancer or perhaps you’re trying to get back to normal? Are you coming to terms with the loss of someone close?

Living with cancer exactly describes my situation. I am in temporary, partial, remission. I have retired from my job in the NHS, sail twice a week during Summer and once a week during Winter and have been on several long haul holidays and UK holidays. I intend to squeeze every bit of fun and enjoyment out of my time left and leave my family and friends with happy memories. I also do some voluntary work for CRUK on the Cancer  Awareness Roadshows which I enjoy and it gives my wife a break from having me cluttering up the house.

11. What is life like now? What are the thoughts which are uppermost in your mind

Life is pretty good at the moment, but there is a poignancy to it in that I know I have a limited shelf life. I realise only too well and that my run of good luck will come to an end sooner or later and that I'm always only a CT scan away from bad news. My cancer is still there, wrapped around my aorta like a snake, the chemo only shrank it and temporarily stopped it from growing.
That said, I am NOT going to let it define me or ruin the weeks and months that I have.

At the moment I feel acceptance of my situation, under scored with anxiety that I know it is only a matter of time before it starts growing again and that my death may be just around the corner. Meanwhile boring everyday life goes around me - people worry about stupidly insignificant things and seem to waste the time they have.

Cheers
Dave