He (the consultant) was saying something about how Alfie's lungs, despite being drained still and fluid in them. He said that the problem lay in the Plural Space surrounding the lungs. He mentioned a funny name ending in 'oma'. I don't know how I knew it, but somehow from someone I had heard that anything medical ending in 'oma' meant it was cancer. My ears pricked... I asked him to repeat what he had just said. He said, Alfie you have mesothelioma. I said does that mean he has cancer? He said yes.
Apparently I went White and nearly passed out. They called in a nurse who gave me a glass of water and took us both out of the room to calm down. We went back in after about 15 mins. The consultant asked Alfie if he had ever worked with asbestos... He couldn't recall. He kept saying to him, I'm well... I have a slight cough, I'm fit and healthy, I never take time off work, I can't have cancer, there's nothing wrong with me.
He eventually made Alfie understand... He does have cancer. Ok Alfie said... So what do I do now... What's the next step, do I need to have chemotherapy? Can I have an operation to get rid of it? What do we do from here?
He was firing all these questions at the consultant without giving him chance to answer. The consultant said, I'm afraid this is terminal cancer, we could operate, but it will possibly only add another three months... And it would probably take you three months to recover. Alfie said so how long have I got then? The consultant was very reluctant to give an answer, but in the end said he thought Alfie would have about 6 months.
We were stunned. I immediately burst into tears again and Alfie said 'so that's it then? I'm gonna die?' the consultant just looked at him and nodded. We were led back out into the waiting room... Which was now empty. I wondered if they leave this sort of thing to the end of the day, just so you don't frighten other people coming in?
We walked back through town to the car... I cried all the way, Alfie supported me when I should have been supporting him! We got some very funny looks that afternoon. My mom and dad were looking after the kids for us so we made our way back to their house. Brothers and sisters had asked us to call them as soon as we found out what the problem was... How the hell do you give this sort of news to people when you're barely dealing with it yourself?
I think I'm allergic to my own tears... When I cry my face swells and immediately goes all blotchy, so I can't tuck myself away somewhere and have a quick weep... The whole bloody world knows when I've been crying cos my face screams it out to them! So.... As soon as mom answers the door and looks at my face she knows something is seriously wrong. I walk into the lounge and dad jumps up out of the chair pushing us into the kitchen, leaving the kids watching cartoons on the tv.
I tell them. Alfie goes to make a cup of tea and mom tells him off and to sit down. We're all crying. I know we have to tell family, but it's so hard to share this news when I feel like I'm already grieving! Alfie said 'I can't believe I'm not gonna see the kids grow up... Walk the girls down the isle... Take Brian (our son) to the pub for his first pint... I cannot put into words how difficult it was to hear him say that, heart breaking, gut wrenching, does not even touch the surface of the actual physical pain... I can't breathe thinking about it, even now.
