Where The Sun Don't Shine

I start radiotherapy (in case you didn't know that!) in a couple of weeks' time. Am I apprehensive? I would have said absolutely not. But who knows what goes on in the human mind? Certainly the actual process doesn't concern me in the least. However I have been warned that there can be side effects. These seem to be classified as possible and more possible. Most of the side effects that I could have were side effects of the original operation and I've dealt with those. But there is one that could be a whole new experience. Now if you embarrass easily or are squeamish. Stop now. Not that's it's you who should be embarrassed. It's me. The fact that I'm telling you this demonstrates that my embarassment threshold is very high.

The likely side effect? A burnt rectal passage. Now you'd think that would be exceptionally unpleasant wouldn't you? But the oncologist assured me that it would just be like a baddish dose of sunburn. Now I don't know about you but the one place so far as I am concerned that the sun don't shine is up my bum!

Gives a whole new slant on a word I use rather a lot: bummer.

I've Been Tattood

I've never really been one for tattoos. OK, so other people have tattoos. Of course in New Zealand it's the norm and I just accept it but it's taken me a while to get used to just how many girls and ladies in the UK now have tattoos: more than men it seems. But I never thought that I'd get to this age and have tatoos myself. Well today I went to Glasgow and came home with three. And guess where they are? One on each thigh and one in a place where very few people outside the medical profession are ever going to see it!

Actually it's been a very odd sort of a day. I've mentioned how it all panned out on Eagleton Notes. But I didn't mention why I was in Glasgow. I was at The Beatson which is Scotland's centre of excellence for cancer treatment. It is there that I will be having my radiotherapy and it is there I went today for my positioning scans ie to determine exactly where they are going to point the guns which fire whatever it is they fire at one's innards to kill off the cancer cells. Well they'll hopefully kill them if they are where they think that they might be. After all they are only talking about a 20% chance of them being around the site of the original operation which is where the guns will aim. But, hey, 20% is better than 0%.

But although I've had a really Good Day one thing struck home. How very lucky I am. When I saw just how many patients at The Beatson were at Outpatients and how many were wandering round and obviously in-patients (why does one have a hyphen and the other not?) and how ill they looked I realised just how lucky I am. I'm not ill! I was by far the fittest person I saw who wasn't wearing an identity badge. Yes. I'm lucky. I'm very lucky. I don't have to play the Glad Game because I ain't got nothing to be not glad about.

Reality Kicks In

Blogging is just so therapeutic. Yesterday when I received the appointments schedule for the six weeks of radiotherapy (I've realised that it's one word not two) the reality of the whole situation hit me. Hard. But yesterday was such a wonderful day in other ways I didn't really have time to think about it after the initial shock. I have no idea why it should have had the effect that it did. Having lived with the cancer for 11 years since the original operation I thought that I'd grown immune to any feelings about it because I've never felt it or been ill as a result of it. As I've said before it's as though I'm looking at it in my body but that I'm detached from my body. OK I know that sounds weird but, hey, that how I feel.

Anyway I was brought back down to earth by the comments on my last posting. I'd read Heather's and Scriptor's comments before the appointments came and taken comfort from them. I read those of L'Archiduchesse and shabby girll afterwards. Yes. Zap the buggers and get on with things. Good advice. I'll let you know in 5 years how I got on! Watch this space.

A Mixed Message

Having spent 6 days trying to adjust to being back in Scotland I set off for Glasgow on Monday 11th.   On Tuesday I went to Ayr hospital and had scans.  On Friday I went back to get the results.  The scan showed nothing.  I was told that this meant that there was nothing that could be seen not that there is nothing to see.  The cancer cells are basically too small to be detected and may, in addition, be too dispersed. So the cancer's there but nowhere to be seen.  Cunning little buggers these cancer cells.  

A year ago radio therapy was ruled out on the grounds that my PSA count was too high for likely success.  Apparently now that the treatment has reduced the count they can at least give radio therapy a go.  There is a 20% chance the cancer cells are around the site of the original operation. They can have a bash (so to speak) in that area with radio therapy and, assuming that there is a 100% chance that any cells there are killed that would give me a 20% chance of having the cancer removed. The side effects are liveable with. And in a maximum of 18 weeks from now it should all be over.

So I feel happy that it's not too far advanced and that there is a chance of the cancer being destroyed.  Having said that I've lived with it for so long now its destruction seems an unlikely scenario.

But wotthehellarchiewotthehell.  It could be worse.  I might have missed the start of the croquet season!