12 Friday Oct 2018
Posted in cancer, casa azahar, cats, friends
This photo of a floppy – almost boneless! – Luna shows how happy and relieved I am that my dear friend Ann got through her surgery yesterday without a hitch. It also shows how she is feeling right now, now back at home and ready to heal. Sending strong thoughts to you darling and hope to tapeo again with you soon. xx
25 Wednesday Jul 2018
After having my oncology appointment postponed a couple of times, I finally got in to see my doctor. And the news was kind of the same as the last time. The good news is that the inflamed area is a bit smaller than it was in March, so that seems hopeful. The “bad” news isn’t actually bad. But they still want to keep a watch on this, so another CT scan is scheduled for November, at which time they will probably also do another endoscopy. Meanwhile I am to get in touch if any of the scary symptoms return (abdominal pain, unexplained weight loss).
Anyhow, after leaving the hospital we stopped in at Las Teresas for a celebratory glass of cava with jamón. So until November… am really going to try to just get on with things, but it is difficult for me to just relax about all this. Still, very glad that it wasn’t actually bad news.
09 Wednesday May 2018
Posted in cancer, casa azahar, chemo, health & happiness, home, sevilla
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This has been a strange week for me. Exactly ten years ago I went to the Feria de Jerez and spent a fun day there with friends. And on the way back to get the train I saw this graffiti (Tengo Cancer – I Have Cancer) on the wall beside a bar next to the station, and something about it moved me to take a photo. There was something poignant yet hopeful yet… I dunno… about it. Whatever. I took the photo.
The very next day I doubled over in extreme pain and thus began two of the most profound years of my life. Not going to go over the whole ordeal again here – if you’re interested you can check out this link. Suffice it to say I somehow survived stage 4 colon cancer with metastasis to the liver and peritoneum, including 3 major abdominal surgeries and being on chemo twice (first 2 months, then 5 months). The chemo was diabolical, but apparently got rid of all the nasty cancer. At what cost to the rest of my body cells? Frankly, I don’t give a damn. I just don’t ever want to go back on chemo again. It was then that I (badly) photoshopped the graffiti photo thusly…
Fast forward to January 2018 and another routine PET scan. Except instead of being given the usual – everything looks fine, see you next year! – I was told there was concern about an area of inflammation that had grown significantly since the previous PET scan. This led to me having several tests done, including a colonoscopy, endoscopy and a CT scan. With a second CT coming up in June, so they can check the progress (or decline) of the “area of concern”. Worried? Well, hell yeah! Because that’s basically all I ever do. Not just about health issues. I worry about EVERYTHING. All. The. Time. It’s exhausting, but I can’t seem to help it.
Anyhoodle… getting back to my initial story. This week marks the 10th anniversary of the beginning of the whole cancer thing, which in my mind is always connected with the Feria de Jerez. And so today I had to go. Nothing morbid or weird, it was more like touching base. Because back then was when all that started, and ten years later I am still here and able to go back and enjoy my favourite feria in Spain. So I did. And it was lovely (nice feria pics coming soon – promise!).
Except this year I am not sure if I “have or have not”… tengo o no tengo. Still waiting to find out. And these days this is what is left of that poignant graffiti. Looks a bit ghostly. Like they tried to paint over it but couldn’t quite get rid of it. I’ve often wondered who this person was, and whether they got better. I sincerely hope so. Just like I hope I will continue to be okay too. So… bit of an emotional day.
28 Wednesday Mar 2018
Posted in cancer, health & happiness, humour
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Thanks to Kate @sledpress for sending this my way. What an excellent idea. Empathy cards for serious illnesses – or what to say when you don’t know what to say – by Emily McDowell. Though of course I hope none of you will ever have to send me one, they are quite clever and right on the money. Reminded me of that list I posted here a few years ago… stupid things people say.
19 Monday Mar 2018
Back from seeing the oncologist and basically there’s no news. Things are as I suspected, with both the colonoscopy and endoscopy results clean. But there remains that pesky – and mysterious – inflammation that nobody can explain, short of opening me up, which my doctor seems to think is a bit drastic at this point. She wants to continue with clinical studies for the moment and monitor my “well being”. And so the next CT scan will be in May and I’m to check in with her again mid-April just to report on how I’m feeling.
All of this is both comforting and yet still somewhat alarming, because if they were sure I was okay then they wouldn’t be doing another CT so soon. So there must be something about the inflammation they find worrying. I forgot to ask about possible peritoneum issues, which I’d had before, and which usually don’t show up on scans. But I was there on my own today and, as usual, I got nervous and forgot what I’d wanted to say. I had also wanted to ask about the “opening me up” options, but then got caught up in the good news side of things. Basically I should never go alone to these appointments. I’d be more worried about this now if I wasn’t seeing the oncologist again in April. Next time I’ll take notes.
Anyhow, afterwards I made my way home, stopping at Casa Morales for a quick “brunch” (tortilla and a beer), because I had been too nervous to eat breakfast before going to the hospital. And it was nice to just chat with the guys there and feel normal, even though “life in limbo” continues.
