I wonder what would have happened if my first thought on that day I got diagnosed 5 years ago, wasn’t to immediately start a blog and write about it? Is that one of those sliding doors moments? Probably not, because I’m sure the thought would have occurred to me eventually, even if I hadn’t gone straight from hospital that day, via two pubs and a rooftop bar, straight on here to tell everyone everything.
It started purely as a way to keep everyone updated at once, to disseminate important information as to what and where and how many. Especially handy when a lot of your people are on the other side of the world. Little did I know that five years later I would still be logging on to put my little thoughts out into the world. And that so many of you wonderful people would be there, at the end of the chain, reading my words on your screens. Some of you from that very first day (thank you) and others who have joined along the way (thank you). We’ve been through a lot together, you and I. And I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re still here.
Well, are you ready for our next stage? I bloody hope you’re going to come with me because I don’t know how I’ll do it on my own. To be perfectly honest. I don’t know how I’ll do it full stop. But we seem to find a way, don’t we.
I spoke to my Onc today and the MRI clearly showed progression. I knew it would. Actually, I was worried it wouldn’t and that I’d have to somehow convince them to scan me again immediately, because I know the cancer is growing again. So I guess that’s good that the scan proved it… I don’t know what next steps are, but they’re thinking radiotherapy to hopefully stop it for a few more minutes and allow the accompanying symptoms to ease off a bit. It’s just a matter of working out the order of which to play our last few cards now and it sounds like radiotherapy, then maybe a bit more chemo, then the good ol TKIs.
Can I just though… take a minute here to tell you all how much the idea of radiotherapy terrifies me? I thought the cage in an MRI was bad, wait until I have to willingly put myself in this every day…
Here’s some Google prepared earlier:
I don’t want that, who wants that?! Why does that even exist? WHO INVENTED THIS! WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU?!
So please hold any of those strong/brave/etc. words – f*cking terrified is the closest I can think of. I don’t know how I’ll get through it, but it’s the only way of trying to live for a few more months so I suppose I’ll have to find a way (and of course I worry I won’t actually be able to force myself lie encased in that mask daily). I won’t even start thinking about the horrendous side effects of radiotherapy to the face. I don’t have any details yet. They’re in talks to work out what we might try throwing at it next. Osteosarcoma is famously not reactive to radiotherapy, but they wouldn’t try it if there wasn’t a chance it might buy us some more time. So give me that chance. I’ll take that chance. Or at least I’ll try my very best.
Anyway, I had a lovely couple of pints with my brother and niece today in a beautiful local pub, which was a perfect way to spend my afternoon after waiting for that rubbish news.
The sun is shining here and although the grass looks like it’s crying out for some rain, this weather is perfect and honestly, I don’t think it gets much better than this. So please try to go do something that makes you smile because we need lots of those things in our lives.