11th July 2009

Since leaving the doctor’s surgery, not one hour has elapsed without my mind wandering to thoughts of the big C. Back in 1998, I found a lump in my neck. It was just before Christmas. In what was my old flat at the time, a thick medical encyclopaedia of illness and disorders sat beside the toilet. I would read the symptoms of nearly all diseases, and then convince myself I had those diseases. I was a borderline hypochondriac when that lump presented itself. I knew, just by its size and feel, that it could have been lymphoma, or Hodgkin’s disease. I was referred to a specialist at the local hospital. He took a full history with a couple of chest X-Rays thrown in. There were no other symptoms, and the lump was still fairly small. The specialist wanted me to wait a month, and then return to see if the lump had grown. That Christmas, there was very little cheer. Then, in the first quarter of 1999, I was given the all clear. I had dodged the bullet that is cancer. So here I am, some ten years on, facing that same pistol.
Only those who face the possibility of cancer, or those, like me, who have an overactive imagination and a disposition that leans toward the fatal, become embroiled in the detail of life: what we have right now, and what we have left. In the darkness, or even while watching my favourite TV show, my mind begins to render images of a hospital bed, myself lying there, no hair, body frail and limp under a soiled hospital gown. I see myself vomiting, crying, and wondering if the suffering is worse than the end. With every lull of normal life, I picture every single minute from receiving the test results, to the point where I’m writing letters to my family and friends, wishing them my love and happiness for the future. I know, it’s all very pessimistic and morbid, but I have always been a pragmatist, and a realist, both of which have served me well, but with issues concerning health and wellbeing, they have been nothing short of a pair of insolent little children, mocking me with every second that elapses. So this has been my life for two days. My present, and my future lived out. My past reflected upon. I can say now, while my stomach churns with the possibilities that lay ahead, if I can’t outrun that bullet once more, I will not go down without a fight.