In my 20s, I would have spent most of New Year's Day in bed because I didn't go to bed until the Day was well under way. A little later, a hangover might have kept me in bed all day. Then with the advent of kids, no days could be spent in bed, least of all New Year's. Now I'm 50, New Year's Day has been spent largely in bed dealing with cancer treatment side effects.
Blog: The Big J vs The Big C
Making the breast of a bad situation ...
On 4 October 2016, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. This blog will chart my progress through treatment, and continued enjoyment of life, love and friendship.
Expect humour, irreverance, occasional sadness, and staunch defence of the National Health Service.
Btw, that picture is not me. :-)
Poetry paints life, cancer takes it
Poetry means it, cancer fakes it
Cancer can not write, create,
Feel or think, illuminate,
Wipe your brow, commiserate
You're fucking rubbish, you are, cancer
Not a writer, player, dancer
Bring nothing useful to the table
Can't tell a joke 'cos you're not able
Finally, my results are back from the USA, and at an appointment at Bart's hospital this morning, the oncologist set out my treatment plan.
The good news is that I don't need chemotherapy. Although I quite liked the idea of all my hair falling out, the idea of months of feeling rubbish and running to the loo to puke several times a day did not fill me with excitement. So, no yodelling down the great white canyon for me. Hurrah.
from the wound.
Actually, I'm spending Christmas with my family. Cancer, the uninvited guest, has been banished, and the new year will begin with essential building work to stop it coming back.
My breast tumour has been sent to the USA, where tests revealed that it is an aggressive, slimy piece of tissue that attacks women. Donald Trump is considering appointing it to a senior post.
Readers may recall that at my last appointment with the breast surgeon (2 December), I was told that I was being referred to the oncologist to determine what treatment I need to have next. I'd hear from them within two weeks, and I should feel free to chase this up. So, naturally I did - repeatedly - and was told - repeatedly - that said appointment would be today or tomorrow.
I guess when you have a 15-inch surgical wound, there is a fair chance that an inch or two of it may become infected. But when it does, it is horrid, painful, smelly, leaves a worse scar and - more worryingly - may delay the treatment needed to keep the cancer from coming back.
While identical in its pathology to general breast cancer, Big Breast Cancer has its own peculiar symptoms and foibles.
Big breast cancer:
Basically, biologically, clinically
Bog-standard breast cancer
But brings complications
Bad bastard cells
Build big clumps
Burrowed, buried, concealed
Beneath buxom cover
Before being caught
Here is the very good news from today's appointment with the surgeon at Homerton Hospital (pictured):