This week dad-in-law has had his 'pregnancy' scan, a chest x-ray, been fitted for new hearing aids, and was to have an endoscopy today at hospital. When his daughter, the ex-nurse, took him today to see The Specialist, he wanted dad-in-law admitted. Absolutely not, says ex-nurse, so they did a CT scan and goodness knows what other tests throughout the day instead.
The Specialist now pronounces that d-i-l hasn't got any cancer (apart from the slowgrowing, it won't kill you prostate tumour) and that he either had
a) a gallstone which has now been passed, or
b) A VIRUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
For THE LOVE OF GOD. Our lives have been sheer, unadulterated f****** HELLLLLLL for weeks now, no, for MONTHS and we were all expecting him to pass away at almost any moment.
His very attentive GP said she thought he had terminal pancreatic cancer.
Jesus, Mary & Joseph.
HOW CAN YOU CONFUSE A VIRUS with that??????????????????????
I am so angry I could scream. (Yes, finding no cancer is obviously a Good Thing and we should all be extremely relieved, but...but... we BELIEVED he was dying. HE believed he was dying.
WTF.
