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Published: June 24th 2011
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Two blogs in one month contravenes my at-home blogging policy, but there are two adventures coming my way now so it's probably forgivable. I received word last Saturday that I have a place on the MA course! But I recieved that word the day after having an operation to remove a diseased lymph node from my neck: that happened because the quacks believe I've got cancer, lymphoma no less. So I'll be travelling the well-trod 'C' road before I can reach the start of my university year, which means a summer of treatment. A sick sad world it may be, but I'm no better: I've been looking at this news as a tourist looks at a new destination, almost viewing it from above, surveying the finer points of whatever medical and scientific information I can obtain with the eye and brain of an anthropologist, thinking about how this merely adds another adventure, another set of tales, another excuse to learn something new that can potentially add another chapter or two to the book of my life (Dorling Kindersley, £12.99 paperback). How to remember it all, write it down, take suitable photos?
I thought that I was supposed to feel all
panicky and fearful of having cancer, all black and end of days-ish. I honestly don't: I'm tired a lot, but the operation last week to remove one of several enlarged lymph nodes in my neck and chest was in itself a window into another world which kept me suitably diverted from any dark thoughts. For one, the speed with which our NHS - which had been really faltering badly in trying to get me a biopsy stringing it out over weeks - reacts when a disgnosis of this kind is made. It's impressive: think how large the NHS is, how much effort and co-ordination is needed from how many quarters to make a behemoth like this swing into action. There was 24 hours between my having a CT scan and a biopsy, and getting a diagnosis, and I was having the operation three days later. In that time I had so much care and attention from friends, family and NHS staff, and the NHS dinners are pretty good too. I have spent this week recuperating from the operation at home, with a stream of visitors, flower deliveries, chocolate care packages, phonecalls and emails. You could call this the honeymoon phase
of my trip with cancer: surely it will wear off. I have an appointment on next Tuesday to have the juicy line of black stitches in the side of my neck taken out, and I am supposed to by then have my full prognosis. The consultants needed to remove an entire lymph node so they could see the entire structure, what happened to it, and decide 100% that it is lymphoma, what type of lymphoma and what type of treatment I need.
There has been talk that this could mean it is not lymphoma after all, but I think it prudent to accept that initial diagnosis as fact which will be confirmed by the biopsy, as what is most important (and the one thing I can do to have a semblance of control over it and the outcome) is confidence and a positive attitude: the feeling that, yes, this is cancer, it is lymphoma, and thats the facts, and then later to know the prognosis, the treatment plan, and have something to write into my diary means that I can prepare myself mentally and physically, and know when I might be too weak to do much and when I might be up to seeing friends or going out, so that I can continue to have my life over the summer. If this is the case, then yes I can see I'll be in for some darker days, perhaps more pain or at least more annoyance - and I have already been told that my planned trip around France at the end of July is probably unlikely to happen as a result of this - but a big plus will be the ability to know something about what is happening to me and what lies ahead. I am curious about this condition and the science around it, and perhaps my ego is talking when I say I feel strong enough to work with it, not try to fight or deny it, not least because it will give me some awesome tales at the other end. I like to think it will help me to sweat the small things less in future, to take better care of myself, to appreciate the things I have. I think I am already good at that, but of course I take plenty for granted, like being able to go backpacking in France or being able to wash my own hair (the boyfriend, ever more brilliant, has had to do this for me as my neck mobility is reduced with the effect of cutting through muscle to get to the lymph node).
I feel lucky that if this was to happen at all, it happens now: I quit work in May and had planned the summer off to relax, and have ensured I have the financial means to do it so no work pressure. I have an incredible boyfriend to help me through, and my house is minutes from the hospital so no long commutes if I have treatment there. I am young and otherwise fit. The conditions for my managing this art optimal, so I have few reasons to get upset about it. And I'm so chuffed to have my uni place, all my energy now goes into begin well for registration on September 30. Before that, my hope is to be able to go to France, and if not, to Germany in August as I planned. Some backpack action must be had! And now I have the ultimate excuse to get other people to give me their seat or help me with my bag!
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