No Title Springs To Mind

  • The Penultimate One - where I am now.

    I've explained how I got here so now it seems only fair to tell you where I am now.

    I received a DS1500 form over 12 months ago and am proud to have made it a liar.

    I feel fine. I feel better than I have felt for three years. I have enough hair to style. OK, it's pretty much limited to "Convict" style, but it's there.

    I have a colour in my face and it's not grey.

    My fatigue has more or less…

  • The one before the penultimate one - aka diagnosis

    So now it was the 22nd of January 2019. I arrived at the hospital in plenty of time for my appointment, knowing I would need a good few cigarettes before going in. As it turned out, I only had one - I felt sick and couldn't face another. I made my way to the clinic.

    I could go on for hours about the brashness of the lighting, the annoyance of the receptionist's laugh, the monotonous drone of the daytime TV, the endless…

  • Not quite the penultimate post.....it's getting there, though.

    So, I receive an appointment from the hospital for somewhere around January the 18th. I've forgotten the date and last year's diary is upstairs. I'm comfy here and have a hot cup of tea so you'll have to contain your disappointment at not knowing the exact date. I'm not fetching the diary. It was a Wednesday, I believe, if that helps.....

    I do not receive a gallon of letters cancelling the appointment…

  • Still not the penultimate bit......

    So after a week or so of this bloody painful shoulder and arm, it got to the point where I couldn't walk very far - nothing wrong with my legs - it was my arm. It was too "heavy" for my body. I was walking around with it permanently held up across my chest in the typical sling position. I would have to stop and rest it on random walls and fences as I walked around town. 

    I went to the GP. The GP looked at…

  • Maybe the penultimate bit. I'm not sure yet....

    In this post, what am I now? Probably 44. 

    I had moved on - cancer was a distant memory and hardly ever crossed my mind anymore. I relived it a little when my mum was diagnosed with lung cancer and asked me for my experience of chemotherapy. I told her that my main memory of it was like having a giant headache-less hangover. My brain felt fuzzy, I was tired, nauseous, thirsty. I couldn't think straight. I forgot the odd…