No, I am not a white man from Georgia confessing to being a lesbian from Damascus. When I was diagnosed with cancer, it was some time before deciding to write a blog about my experiences. Consequently I can confess that I have had the surgery already and am currently in that limbo which is the wait for the other therapies to start. I made notes, kept a diary and I shall start from there and by the time we both (I have to assume one reader, right?) will be up to date and my posts will be contemporary. The full blog is at www.licking-cancer.com.
When It All Began
I was diagnosed on 12th April but that's not day one, is it? Day one began, I think, somewhere around early to mid February. One morning I stood in front of the mirror deciding to shave. Apparently the one thing I don't do enough of now I am living in France and no longer going to work - at least that what Phylly, my darling wife, says. I ran my hand down my chin and neck, feeling the roughness, the hairs. And now feeling something else, a lump. What do you do when you find a lump? You do what I did. I shaved, I looked at the lump and felt the lump and went out to dig ditches for flower beds for my darling Phylly.
It was only after a week or so, when the lump stayed that I thought I should mention it to Phylly. She looked, she poked, she ummed, she aahed. We decided to go to the doctor. Dr M. in Cleguerec looked, he poked, he ummed, he aahed. He prescribed antibiotics. Two weeks later we went back. The lump was unchanged. It didn't hurt, it didn't move, it didn't do very much at all. Dr M. sent me along to Pontivy hospital for an echograph on the lump. I will say that even at this point I had no real thoughts that anything might be seriously wrong. As someone who smoked around 20 odd cigarettes a day, I had plenty of opportunity to puff and contemplate my lump, to wonder and possibly worry - but I did not. Call me a fool, call me an optimist. The echograph was inconclusive, the doctor who ran echo sound machine over basically said I should have been in for one before any treatment and then after, so as to make a comparison.
So, it was decided I should have a biopsy to discover exactly what this lump is. This where I first met Dr S. The lovely Dr S. He is handsome, he is confident, capable, caring and he has done right by me. When we met he said, 'we'll take a punch, see what it is, go from there'. Right now I should add a word about the French health system. I don't think I have come across a system that is as professional, responsive and quick as the French. They say they will do something, they do it. Not in three weeks, not in six weeks, not when there might be an appointment available, but pretty much right there and then. Every twist turn in this process has been accompanied by responsive doctors and nurses and appointments that have been not more than ten days away. I have been so impressed by them all. And by and large they have really rather attractive too! I went along for the punch. That was the first procedure for me on foreign soil and I will admit to nervousness about it. My French is poor. It's my own fault. We have been here around 18 months now and the majority of that time I have spent at home. I have cut wood, worked in the garden, lazed around, written and generally not interacted with many people and very few of those have been French. So I worried. A little. As is typical all through this process so far, there is always someone who speaks some English.
The procedure had me on my back in an examination room at Pontivy hospital with, get this, six people around me. I couldn't believe how many people crammed into this room just for a small punch biopsy that would take 5 minutes to complete. I was echo sounded, draped in a paper cloth and given a local anaesthetic and punched. Not punched once but several times around and within the lump. As it was done, the six chatted, discussed and ummed and aahed over the echo sound, the process of the lump punching. This was the first time, but by no means the last, that I felt like a piece of meat.
