Blog 27 – Happy Anniversaries, Unhappy ones too.
It’s now a year since treatment ended. Yet again I’ve re-read some of my
blogs. I keep trying to re-read them to try to make them every-day events
rather than extraordinary, epic, occurrences. But I can’t. I shudder. I weep.
Which I never did at the time.
On the anniversary of the major surgery – to remove the lymph nodes and
teeth, I had to go home from work. I still had no dentures. A year! A tear. A
temper. Yes, Frank. A temper. A trauma. I spent the day in the company of a
bottle.
In August Row and I went to Iceland for our 29th wedding
anniversary. An intriguing country. Confident yet apologetic. Old, yet not.
Potentially explosive. We were happy to celebrate.
Later in August I got my teeth. I could smile again.
In September, Row and I celebrated her Dad’s 96th birthday. A
meal in Stratford-upon-Avon at the same restaurant as last year, the day before
radiotherapy treatment began.
Late September I had a throat infection. As painful as when the tonsils
came out. When I had my six-weekly review at the hospital they wanted to be
sure it was unrelated, so sent me for an MRI scan with contrast. I shuddered
when I went into the radiology reception at Lister hospital. I shuddered when I
put on the gown. I shuddered again when they put in the cannula (did you know
it means a little reed). It didn’t hurt at all. It just cast shadows of the
hundred needles that were not so deeply buried in the past. I couldn’t afford
to shudder when I lay on the table, when I had the mask fitted, when the
machine engulfed me, when the motors started, when the noise began again and
again and again. I had to keep still. For nearly an hour. Remembering. Shhhh
now. Shhhh.
In October I reached the age of 60. Phew. My sisters and mum came to
visit. Mum was 85 the day before. A fine weekend.
I had to wait until yesterday for the results.
Nothing wrong with the throat.
But there’s something.
Don’t worry.
Come back in two weeks. When we’ve had time to study the information.
Shudder.
