The Oncologist

It is five weeks since my surgery and a little over three weeks that I’ve been home, under the care of T. In many ways my progress has been good. I walk every day. Ten minutes was the most I could manage three weeks ago. Now I am able to go out walking for an hour, as long as I’m wrapped up well. The disturbances in my guts have largely settled and I can now eat reasonably normally. The pain of my belly wound diminishes slowly. It does intensify over each day and I require regular doses of paracetamol.

T is looking after me very well. She makes a healthy soup for lunch-time and a nourishing meal in the evening. I’ve also been sampling plenty of Xmas goodies and have put on around six pounds of the ten I lost whilst in hospital. At first I couldn’t get through the day without a nap in the afternoon. Now I do last through, but I usually conk out by 10pm. I’m managing to sleep fairly well, with very strange dreams, although I do take a sleeping pill.

T and I have just had our first meeting with the oncologist. They are a dour lot, who don’t pull any punches. We learnt that my tumour was six centimetres in diameter and weighed ninety four grammes. We learnt that it was graded three out of four on the aggressiveness scale. We learnt that the tumour was surrounded by a thin covering of fatty tissue, apart from at the surgical line of excision where three millimetres of tumour were exposed. We learnt that I would be given a CT scan and a bone scan in four weeks time, when my system had settled down after the surgery. We learnt that the oncologist expected me to need chemotherapy, as some sort of recurrence, most likely at the line of excision, was likely.

This prognosis has been hard to bear, particularly after the long, tough journey we had already taken. Whilst some sort of recurrence is thought to be likely, it is not yet a fact.  As far as I know, I am clear apart from three millimetres of cancer cells which have become exposed to my own immune system. I believe I’m recovering well and becoming a bit better each day. However, it is difficult not to feel each twinge in the right side of my abdomen as a symptom of tumour regrowth.

T has found it particularly hard. She has been signed off work for a month due to emotional exhaustion and stays in bed longer than I do in the mornings. We have our little routines and take things one day at a time. We limp along quietly, helping each other get by. It’s not easy. We try to do our best. And keep the faith.