I'm back - again.

It has been a long time I know - but I'm back and I'll try to explain..........


A part of the explanation has to do with the events of mid-December. I wrote a blog about it at the time entitled, 'Dark days, 'crab years.'' and posted it shortly thereafter. I decided to take it down a day or so later having reconsidered the  appropriateness of some of the material. I am re-posting a part of it (see below) and you may well be able to imagine something of that which I have excised.


Some of you will know that the 'crab years' began for us not with the diagnosis of my condition last May, but nearly five years earlier when Diana was told that she had breast cancer. So, a few days ago, after her 'final' follow-up mammogram of the week before, she attended her 'signing-off' consultation at the Women's Hospital. Every check-up since her mastectomy has resulted in an 'all clear'; this one did not. She was told that the mammogram had revealed a possible DCSI ( Ductal Carcinoma In Situ). This means she may have a cancerous condition which might also require a lumpectomy with radiotherapy follow-up. So there will be another biopsy and given previous experience, the prospect of further treatment.

There are times when I, when we, ask, 'Why us?' Everyone in our or a similar position must ask the same question. There are science-based answers concerning factors with which particular cancers are linked. An obvious one is smoking and lung cancer but the linkage is much less clear with other conditions. Anyway, I'm not sure that the 'science answer' is what I and perhaps others, are ultimately seeking. The question is more of a desperate, confused and uncomprehending plea for someone to make sense out of the chaos. Even a consultant surgeon can't offer the answer to that. In the absence of a belief in God we must find our own sense - though I know that we are not alone in this.

A part of the answer has sometimes been 'Why not us?' We are no more 'special' or 'insulated' from personal crisis than anyone else. Another part has to do with the learning that comes from confronting circumstances such as these, that there is something precious in discovering the uncertainty, the fragility, the transient nature of being alive.

I try to keep such thoughts in mind.


The date for the follow-up consultation after the biopsies (not biopsy, as it transpired) was the 28th December. This meant that we had to contain our anxiety through a good portion of the seasonal events. It helped of course that we had grandchildren-sized distractions but Diana had, nether the less, plenty of time to prepare herself for the worst. 


We went to the Women's Hospital together and sat in the very same places, in the same room that we had sat in five years earlier when the consultant had begun with the words, 'Unfortunately, it's not good news...........'. I lost the rest of what he had to say in a miasma of slow-motion shock and confusion. This time, as before, another consultant came straight to the point. I can't recall the words, I was too busy preparing myself for listening, for the portentous moment. Through the fog, I became aware of the smile in Diana's words and the delight in the squeeze she was transmitting through her hand to my hand. She was clear. The biopsies revealed nothing more than 'normal calcification' occurring in a proportion of women over the age of 50.


Most of you know all this by now - but not all. It was a great end to a difficult year.


A day later we were back at the QEH for my end-of-3rd-cycle CT scan. This was the scan that should tell the oncologist what impact the 'chemo-type' drugs have been having. The final few days of the 3rd drug cycle had been difficult because of the onset of 'sore feet syndrome'. This had made walking, for anything but a short distance, too painful. 


The results of the scan are due in a couple of days. I'm hoping for good news and know that a lot of people are with me - including, I'm sure, the un-named person, who called me on the phone the other day to enquire after my health.


"Rod," he said. "How are you?"
"I'm ok," I replied before adding, "but I have been better."
"Look," he advised "you've got to stay positive. Things could be worse...."
"I'm sure you're right.'
"Of course things could be worse - look, for a start - it could have been me!"


That triggered the best, full-throated laugh that I have enjoyed for a very long time! You would have to know the person.......