Another short post.
In light of everything, I wasn’t up to celebrating my birthday yesterday, so had a quiet dinner and cake. Today I got my real present.
I am officially cancer free, no further chemotherapy needed.
The anomaly in my lungs is still there and still the same size and shape. So it is likely scar tissue and definitely not a tumour.
I nearly crashed the car when the call came in with the good news. I then spent about 45 minutes outside Sainsbury’s in Shrewsbury exclaiming “I’m cancer free’ down the phone whilst waving my arms about. I am such a tit.
Still, the first bit of good news at last this year. Time to start picking up the pieces.
Couldn’t be happier at this moment in time.
Still raw, so wont mince my words as part of this morbid chronicle.
Grandad passed away at roughly 03:00 this morning at the age of 68 and despite knowing it was coming; Still really fucking hurts.
I will miss him more than I can ever articulate.
This is not going to be one of my diatribes about how awful the universe is through the lens of chemotherapy or how stupid the world is through the eye of the needle that is common sense in public services. Simply going to be an airing out of thoughts. Today is a bad day, no, the worst day.
Not in terms of symptoms, I’m actually on the upward trend of this cycle, it has in fact little to do with my health. It’s more going over what cancer has stolen from me. Positively one of the worst diseases ever. I’m treating the disease and the treatment as one as they are as bad as each other. To put this into context, I will impart a few examples and embellish why I’m mentioning this.
I cannot afford to be ill.
There, I’ve said it. A increasingly saddening and sickening state of affairs. No two ways about it. Been brought abruptly back into reality and given the proverbial cold water shower of; no one gives a crap, please take a ticket and move along. Thank you.
I could regale tales of idiocy with the hospital trying to arrange transport over a bank holiday weekend, followed by pulling my dad out of sleep to take me over as they wouldn’t provide any. Only then to be told that there is transport and if I use my now fairly annoyed emergency transport (Dad), I will no longer be entitled to it! Oh no, even for that pre 9am surprise, this was only the beginning of the week of utter nonsense!
So, I’ve had some exchanges with work. Fairly minimal as I don’t want to sit and tell people how awful things are and remind them constantly whilst they are in the office and depress them. Tried to do some work where I can, but I’ve been focusing on getting through what is one of the most horrendous things I’ve ever let someone do to me, getting better and life going back to some semblance of normality. Recently, it sounds like that they are getting nervous about output of work and length of time that I have been absent. Or could be my paranoia kicking in. Understandable, they are a business and need to make profit. I cannot grudge them that. However, not something I want to worry about at this stage in cycle 2.
So this has brought in job security issues along with the all encompassing financial worry. Which I had rather hoped to be rid of whilst staying temporarily in Shrewsbury. Again, not the case.
I managed to finally escape my captors again. Hooray! Whilst the rest of the family are downstairs having a giggle at the box of flickering lights, I thought I would recap on where everything is.
So, the primary thought in my head is: ‘make it stop, make it stop, make it stop’. Kind of childish and in contravention of what I said about 3 weeks ago about ‘manning up’ in light of all the crap other cancer patients go through. Constantly getting a reality check whenever I go back to hospital as it is tempting to be wrapped up in your own private universe of misery.
In spite of his, I proudly re-iterate that this is the single worst experience I have gone through. I’ve done fear, bereavement, rage and universe shattering. Nothing quite compares to systematic poisoning like chemotherapy. Sleep is a small mercy. One which I have partaken in quite a lot since my escape from the hospital. Sadly, this has driven my family back to the state of ‘oh-ehm-gee must pester and phone as much as possible’ mode, which is of no use to anyone except heighten anxiety between everyone. A selfish thought, perhaps. They care, that is what is important, right? I am relieved somewhat that I am so far removed from the main bulk of my family. Make no mistake, there are a few I would like to see, however I could not cope with the daily visits, especially from a troupe of the extended family, nor does anyone seem to understand that this stuff goes for my speech first and get really upset when I don’t want to talk. Plus, I really hate being ill.