foggy
Striker
I've been to see the oncologist today. She asked me what I was expecting. I said I'm expecting to need more treatment. She told me I was correct. Is this the right way to tell somebody their cancer has returned? Is getting the answer correct supposed to help the absolute shit shovel that's just been twatted off my head? As my world came crashing down again, she added it had now spread to my liver. Our lass let out an audible gasp sigh thing. I hate hurting those closest to me. I wish I wasn't such a bother. The oncologist said it was 'a bummer'. I agreed. Then I asked her about her journey in. She had to get the train and was late. The weather was much better by now. We're all comfortable when we're talking weather. Then I signed the consent forms. Again.
So it's back to the chemo ward soon. I think some may know what that means. Attention seeking bellendery musings. No more surgery though. I don't think I could take any more. Now it's just time. In a lucky coincidence timing wise, the bairn flew up from Bristol this morning for a break at home,. I'd much rather she is up here than having to deal with the news miles from home. I can say it's ok and we'll have a hug. It took me nearly three hours to get to the airport. I don't think I've ever been so happy in a traffic jam. She's with me all day tomorrow. Well she's doing her dissertation and I'm chef. I've just had my loft done out. It's quite the place to dissert. We're having Caesar salad. I had a gout attack a month ago so went in to give blood to test uric acid levels. The nurse said I would also have a health check. I thought that was nice of them. Turns out I am also diabetic. It doesn't just rain...Anyway Caesar salad it is. And ice cream for pud. Fuck 'em.
I need painkillers. Lots of strong ones. Once I got over the operation I had a two week window, probably over Christmas luckily enough, where I was recovering nicely before the tumours and surgical scars had their way with my nerves. My nervous system is working very well. I am in no doubt about the amount of things inside me that aren't what they should be.
I feel quite relaxed. It's always better to know, no matter how bad the knowing what it is is. The graduation is 21st July so I have a target. It's always been the target but now it has a real date. Before that she turns 21 too. I may be packing my bags but they're not being weighed in just yet.
All the best.
So it's back to the chemo ward soon. I think some may know what that means. Attention seeking bellendery musings. No more surgery though. I don't think I could take any more. Now it's just time. In a lucky coincidence timing wise, the bairn flew up from Bristol this morning for a break at home,. I'd much rather she is up here than having to deal with the news miles from home. I can say it's ok and we'll have a hug. It took me nearly three hours to get to the airport. I don't think I've ever been so happy in a traffic jam. She's with me all day tomorrow. Well she's doing her dissertation and I'm chef. I've just had my loft done out. It's quite the place to dissert. We're having Caesar salad. I had a gout attack a month ago so went in to give blood to test uric acid levels. The nurse said I would also have a health check. I thought that was nice of them. Turns out I am also diabetic. It doesn't just rain...Anyway Caesar salad it is. And ice cream for pud. Fuck 'em.
I need painkillers. Lots of strong ones. Once I got over the operation I had a two week window, probably over Christmas luckily enough, where I was recovering nicely before the tumours and surgical scars had their way with my nerves. My nervous system is working very well. I am in no doubt about the amount of things inside me that aren't what they should be.
I feel quite relaxed. It's always better to know, no matter how bad the knowing what it is is. The graduation is 21st July so I have a target. It's always been the target but now it has a real date. Before that she turns 21 too. I may be packing my bags but they're not being weighed in just yet.
All the best.
