Category Archives: health & happiness

mixed messages

22 Wednesday Oct 2008

Posted by in cancer, health & happiness, hospitals, life stuff

≈ 36 Comments

So I had two hospital appointments yesterday morning with the two different surgeons (colon and liver) as a check up and revision thing. You will no doubt recall that when I saw the oncologist a couple of weeks ago for my updated prognosis she told me that there wouldn’t be any more surgery and that whatever chemo they put me on next would only be a way of slowing things down and not a cure. And when I asked her to give me a survival time frame if I chose not to have chemo treatment she said it would be more or less a year. So imagine my surprise when I got this news …

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cancer etiquette

15 Wednesday Oct 2008

Posted by in cancer, culture, friends, health & happiness

≈ 45 Comments

I came across the following on the Colon Club discussion forum – a list of seven things you shouldn’t say to people with cancer. I thought it was pretty good, though some don’t really apply to me. And I’ve added a couple more at the end.

Hearing that a loved one has been diagnosed with cancer can cause anyone to be anxious. You begin to think about all the right things to say in your anxiety and oftentimes end up saying the worst. Although the objective is not to cause harm to this person, ultimately you can, with your words, end up doing just that and cause your loved one to plunge further into depression. No doubt hearing that “C” word turns a lot of us into fools, but if you find yourself in a position where a family member or friend has revealed that they have cancer, here are some things you might not want to say. . .

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prognosis & treatment (2)

10 Friday Oct 2008

Posted by in cancer, friends, health & happiness, hospitals, life stuff

≈ 57 Comments

So this was it – the second prognosis after the aborted liver resection in September. Nog and I left the house early yesterday because we wanted to walk to the hospital through the park  –  the plan was to meet up with Pablo about 15 minutes before my appointment with the oncologist. And that’s basically what happened. Of course the appointment happened about two hours after the appointed time . . .

We finally got in to see the doctor, and there is no way to sugar-coat this, so here we go…

  • my tumours are inoperable
  • chemo might help slow down the inevitable
  • without treatment I maybe have a year

It didn’t happen quite that succinctly. I had previously briefed Pablo on the situation and about all the questions I wanted answered, so he could back me up. In the end I did most of the talking but it was still good having him there. Nog came too because he didn’t want to be left at home waiting to hear the news,  and in the end all three of us squeezed into the consulting room. Here is a pic I took of my two boys in the waiting room, standing in front of a decolourated Matisse print . . .

It was hard. I had to keep poking and prodding … trying to get something REAL out of the doctor. Because she didn’t want to tell me what she ended up telling me. Later she told Pablo she’d never had a patient so … well, so like me.

Afterwards we walked out of the hospital together and, since I hadn’t cried in the doctor’s office (I was soooo close…), I was determined not to cry while we went to find somewhere to have lunch. And when I ventured a self-pitying comment about being dead soon, Pablo quickly nipped that in the bud by saying that I didn’t have to worry because he and Peter weren’t that lucky. Ha! That snapped me out of it long enough to enjoy a wonderful lunch … photos to be supplied later.

But really … this totally sucks.

And I really, really don’t want to die.

Not like this, not so soon …

prognosis & treatment (3)
prognosis & treatment (1)