After being diagnosed with kidney cancer, Clive Stone launched a campaign for the right of cancer sufferers in Oxfordshire and across the country to receive the life-extending drug Sunitinib.

In February, the National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence (Nice) ordered the drug to be made available on the NHS for first-line treatment of the disease.

It was a victory for Mr Stone, 61, who lives near Witney.

Today he begins the first of a series of fortnightly columns taking you through his personal journey:

“If it’s cancer then I can’t cure you, but new drugs are coming along all the time to improve treatment.”

On hearing these words my world was turned upside down, and all our plans for the future melted away. Nothing can prepare you for this. It was October 2007.

A few months earlier, in July, I had undergone major surgery for removal of one of my kidneys, because a CT scan had identified a tumour.

Histology later confirmed that indeed I was suffering from a kidney cancer called renal cell carcinoma.

Naturally, I was hopeful the cancer had all been removed following surgery. I was making a good recovery from the operation. How could this now be happening to me?

The thought that my cancer might have already spread filled me with horror and hopelessness.

The word CANCER began to take over my life –– along with all its terrifying connotations.

It felt as though four impenetrable walls had come down all around me and there was no escape. I just couldn’t believe nothing could be done for these small “spots” in my lungs.

Until then I had gone through life under the mistaken belief doctors were able to cure all ills in this modern world. It was hard to accept there was no cure.

I had often read press reports of brave people facing terminal illness, and although I admired their bravery and fortitude it was always at a distance, and happening to someone else. Now it was my turn to join their number, and I wondered if I was up to it? I had never been particularly brave or courageous.

The words of the consultant were still ringing in my ears all the way home as I struggled to understand exactly what might lie ahead.

I’m afraid I was no comfort for my dear wife, Jan, who was trying to put on a brave face for the two of us as she drove us back home.

She was constantly trying to reassure me that the “spots” had not yet been confirmed as cancer and that we shouldn’t jump to any early conclusions.

After all, they were only small and their progress would be monitored by regular scans.

She is such a strong person, and her good commonsense approach did much to support me and help me to alleviate my fears.

The hardest part was having to tell our children –– there was no easy way. We had agreed between us at the outset to always be honest and up front about my cancer. There’s no point hiding bad news.

Thus began a steep learning curve, exploring possible treatments and effective drug availability, and finding a support group for this rare cancer type. Little did I know then of the battles that lay ahead.