Halfway to Dead
Dr Kruger’s confirmation of the two year life expectancy for untreated Hodgkins is interesting and shocking too. I’m certainly past a year of having the cancer in me, so its sobering and I wonder how ill I really am. It’s also interesting to think about that thing – dead. Halfway dead. Dead suddenly seems like a place, somewhere we all go. The only place we all go.
Halfway to Dead
This occurs to me in the morning. Of course its easier to think about Dead with the promise of successful treatment, so it’s not the reality I’m facing, and I’m aware that I’ve got a ‘good cancer’, a curable cancer, and that for many there is no sense of reprieve like this. The other day I came across a Scottish guy’s lymphoma diary (I’ll put up a link to it later) where he says something like “The next bastard who says Hodgkins isn’t a real cancer will get a damn good kicking!” Yeah man! Say it like it is! But what do I know. The delights of Chemotherapy are yet in store. But I can understand why some people might think of Hodgkins as Cancer Lite.
I get up and get on. I’ve a building job to finish, my re-built bedroom with its arching ceiling and soft light and candle niches and little wood stove. I’m going to need this room soon and the peace of it. R&R, rest and recuperation. But it’s hard going working with tools with my mind fracturing into dread at times. I’m taking more cocodamols as my back hurts, more so now I know it’s the cancer fucking with me!
By the afternoon things improve. There were calls all morning of course; care and concern and worry but it’s too much for me to keep repeating and having to be strong and calm. Better to just get on for a bit.
Ali comes back from the cafe at the end of the day and says she’ll stay and looks after me again…I’m very lucky.