I’m feeling sick.
For once struck dumb.
This can’t be right.
I’m feeling numb

I have cancer
Is all I’ve heard.
They’ve got it wrong.
It’s just absurd.

My eyes are stinging.
I must not cry.
Does this mean,
I’m soon to die?

I have cancer
Is in my head.
All day. All night.
I wake with dread.

I cannot eat.
My throat won’t swallow.
I’m close to tears.
My stomach’s hollow.

I feel depressed
Which isn’t me.
Never had to face
My mortality.

I’ll plan my funeral
Just in case.
That’s one less thing
For Nick to face.

But if there was
A choice thereof,
I’d still choose me
Than one I love.

The Scan

I’ve not long had my 50^th birthday and am recovering from surgery to remove what we now know was a cancerous tumour.

I’m sent off for a P.E.T scan which will determine exactly where the cancer has spread in my body.

What to Expect

It’s like a combination of a CT scan and an MRI scan.

A radioactive dye is injected into the blood-stream. Then you are left in a dark room for about an hour. You are then put through a scanner very similar to an MRI.

The dye attaches itself to any cancer which appear as ‘hot spots’ on the scans (simplified explanation).

Afterwards, I’m told that I must avoid close contact with anyone under the age of 18, or pregnant, for 24 hours, though I believe this time frame may have changed.

Secretly I’m confident that they’ve made a mistake and that the P.E.T scan will show no cancer at all. We can then go back to normal. Job done.

Clinging to Hope

Two days later I get a telephone call from the lovely nurse who has been looking after me for the last few months.

It’s definite.

I’m still clinging on for a shred of hope. Were they sure, could it be something else?

My hopes are dashed. Apparently I lit up like a Christmas tree!

As the Irish would say – Oh Feck! This is turning out to be some year.

Don’t Underestimate the Impact of Bad News.

Once again, I feel my throat constricting. I call my GP surgery and speak to Sam the practice nurse who has been my rock these last six months. She immediately prescribes Fortisips, a drink which will help give me nutrients whilst I am unable to eat.

It is amazing how a few words can change our mood, our ability to think, eat, drink, swallow.