You do know I’ve been using Ripley quotes recently don’t you? OK. (because I’d have said “are”) Anyhoo.
So last Thursday was interesting. I was late for my meeting with fab new consultant – FNC for short. Traffic was bad. He called me and my bezzie in and I was fretting that because we were late we had missed meeting my specialist nurse downstairs and she wasn’t there yet. I thought I knew the score though. Worst case scenario was “It’s back and we call on Professor Zappy”. Big deal but in the scheme of things not really.
As we walked in my little firecracker of a specialist nurse turned up looking flustered as she’d been looking for me everywhere. Then it got a bit surreal. I think I knew it was potentially bad news when she walked over and hugged me.
This is what we’ve got gang. I’ve told everyone I can think of who ought to know before I blog about it and if that’s not you I either apologise sincerely or maybe you have a financial reason for checking my blog in which case no, I’m not shacking up with anyone and therefore you can mind your own business.
OK. The PET scan which you will remember will show areas that light up when they have had yummy sugary goodness albeit radioactive showed various lit up bits. Now this was explained to me by FNC as being due to three reasons. Reason one, an infection. Reason two, lymphoma. Reason three, anal cancer that has spread to lymph system. As I sat thinking “No hang on, option two is completely unfair – it’s a different sort” the lovely and quite sweary (more of that later)* FNC said “and if it’s anal cancer that’s spread then we can’t do anything apart from make you comfortable.” I’m paraphrasing because I’ll be honest all I could hear was my inner voice going “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit”. (*he said “this is an f’ing awful thing to tell you”.)
Then there were tears, phone calls, teary phone calls, texts…..but also laughter because y’know it’s me.
So this is strange. What do I do? Do I plan my funeral (yay I typed it!) only to find out that its some infection I’ve picked up from my cats? (Psst but just in case, anybody suggesting “Wind beneath my bloody sodding wings” will be punched quite badly) – dunno. Tell you what I did do this weekend. I sat on a picnic blanket on Hackney Downs with a few thousand other people watching Dirty Dancing on a huge screen and at the end when “Time of my Life” came on at the end I sang every word very loudly.*
*Watermelon soaked in vodka may have played a small part.
So. I find out in a couple of weeks and as soon as I tell my nearest and dearest, you’ll know Team Ripley.