So I got the results of the latest PET scan today.  The secondary cancer is growing but slowly.  A centimetre has become 2cm in some cases.  The bright light of sugar intake that caused slight concern was on my liver.  So this could be the first “salvo”.  I’m going to have another MRI scan just to confirm but if it is and if there’s only the one area then I get to have a new procedure – an RFA.  I googled this excitedly only to be told it wasn’t anything to do with hunky sailors in the Royal Fleet Auxilliary but rather a Radiofrequency Ablation.

It’s a quick procedure and they give you lots of lovely sedatives first before a local anaesthetic then they zap it.  I’d be back on my feet in a matter of days.  If by any chance it isn’t the only area then chemo was mentioned which understandably caused me to shudder because of both last times’ fun and my “no chemo this time rule”.  Have I mentioned that before?  I’ve always said that while I’ve made my peace with this thing getting me I’ll be damned if I’m having chemo just to extend my life.  Given the choice between a few more months spent feeling absolutely lousy with thinning if any hair or having less time but spending it feeling as fab as possible and partying hard while I  can then I’m an “Option B” kinda chick.  However, if I’m pretty much guaranteed that it’s worth it – if quality of life is still there after a few weeks of chemo then I’ll roll my sleeve up say “go for it” and order some box sets.  That’s jumping the gun though.  Let’s see what happens with the MRI.

On the way home my bestie asked how I felt about today.  I shrugged it off a bit but I’m torn between “OK this is the beginning, here we go” fear as I was reminded by my lovely Consultant that its been 7 months since diagnosis and the median time given for this kind of thing is 2 years and (oh I hope this comes out right) “Blimey that’s a bit of a weedy first salvo”.  I said to my Consultant that it’s a bit like a really slow start to a game of Space Invaders.  The cancer has sort of ambled across the screen and if things go well then we just glance up from our book, go “zap” and carry on reading stifling a yawn.  It’s not white knuckle stuff yet is it?  Don’t get me wrong, that suits me just fine… but it IS dealing with Not Quite Ripley you know!

So that’s the news Team Dolly.  That’s where we are.  I wonder if we can compromise and get hunky sailors to do the RFA.  I’ll ask the Royal Free.