Ring that Bell Bill.

My Uncle Bill, up there in South Shields, had a lump in his neck. The doctor sent him for test and it turned out to be cancerous.
An operation was deemed to be very successful, as far as they could tell of course, and the surgical team was pretty sure they'd got it all. Problem is that you never know if it has spread to any other areas so he underwent a series of 20 Chemotherapy sessions.
He completed all 20 and, as is the custom, he came out after the last session and rang the NHS bell. Everyone in the waiting room cheered and clapped, they knew exactly what it meant.
When I spoke to him on the phone he was obviously very pleased although, he said, the doctors have warned him that he will go through a bad patch of feeling quite ill before he feels better. There is also the proviso that they cannot be sure it's all worked for another five years.
It's great news so far but what really pains him is the arthritis in his legs. Here is a man who was a mountaineer, a rambler, fell walker, a leading light in the Scouting movement all his life and is still involved. He even bought an old Ambulance and drove around, not through, the Sahara desert in, I think, early 1960's.
Arthritis won't stop him despite the pain he suffers with every step. 
Quite a remarkable man.