It was scan day today; and just in passing a general election was called. Preparations for the scan started yesterday morning when I had to drink the contents of a small bottle they had sent me. I felt just like Alice in Wonderland but thankfully I neither became very small or very tall. Then this morning I was handed a jug full of the most disgusting thin squashy stuff and I had to drink all of it; you begin to wonder if they are just playing games with you; then in for the jab that makes you think you have wet yourself and after all that squash would you be surprised and 30 seconds flat under the CT machine.
Now like Gordon I have to await the results; my doctor did say he would phone but not when so I just have to sit by the phone. It's not just the blobs I had that I have scanxiety about but others that may have emerged and maybe elsewhere. Unlike Gordon I can do nothing to influence the outcome: although as someone on the radio this morning said he really only has to do better than everyone expects and he will be deemed a success.
When I turned on my computer there was a very sad email awaiting me, Pauline, a fellow sufferer with whom I had lovely long chat before I went off to Dresden died last night. She had been suffering badly but I remember how much she wanted to live when I spoke to her and how she was willing to try anything that might help her. She too ultimately couldn't influence the results; it's just too sad for words and only goes to show that being good and right doesn't necessarily mean you will win in the end.