September 3rd 2009

Since my meeting with the dermatologist, and up to the meeting with the plastic surgeon, I have been in good spirits, which is strange considering his diagnosis is not final. But I have been happy and enjoying time with my family. Nevertheless, yesterday I visited the plastic surgeon and now I feel back to square one. Those dark clouds have gathered overhead again, and I’m beginning to measure my life in increments of months, not years. It is not that I received terrible news, but after the 80 minute wait in the Out Patients department (yes 80 minutes!), I was directed into a small cubicle where I had to give the history of my mole again, and my own medial history. After which the surgeon had a look at my back, and concluded it was probably benign, but it warranted removal. He was upbeat. But what I took from the meeting was a sense that he wasn’t in full agreement with the dermatologist. He spoke about the procedure, the scar tissue that will be left behind, and should after laboratory tests the results come back and the mole was melanoma, then they a further 1 cm of tissue would need to be cut away. One can assume this would confirm how far the cancer had spread. It was all probably procedural talk, yet I couldn’t shake off the fact I was again facing the prospect of cancer, something that had all but escaped my thoughts for a large proportion of the past few weeks. I think this can be partly contributed to the fact that when I asked how long I would need to wait for the surgery, he said, due to the potential risk of cancer, I would be classed as urgent, meaning I only had to wait a further two weeks (evidently two weeks wait is fast). I am trying desperately to hold on to the positive stuff, like how he believed, based on my assessment and history, that there should be nothing to worry about. But Jesus, it’s difficult.