Blobs galore

Well I got out yesterday, final chemo over and it was earlier than ever thanks to pump never breaking down, so Stewart whisked me off into the countryside for a wonderful lunch; to say it was better than I would have had in hospital is like comparing a clinch with say Johnny Depp and ooh I don't know .. Benny Hill. This morning I have finally unpacked my hospital bag and the case we took to France which up to now has been blocking the bedroom floor and spilling out its contents so that I could just pick out something to wear each day from the emerging layer; all is now tidily hanging up and I have even filled a bag for the charity shop full of work jackets and tops I will never squeeze into.

The reason for this small burst of activity I presume is that I am still on the steroids they give you to stop you retching every 5 minutes; it's almost working and because I was given news in the hospital. Well I suppose you could call it news more like more information and none of it that good I am afraid readers. In fact I am thinking of renaming this blog the blob blog and you will see why.

The mysterious Mr Gurevitch turned up at my bedside with Gloria the nurse. He, you will recall, is the sarcoma surgeon who had shown an interest in my thigh; well who can blame him, it used to be a thing of beauty but unfortunately now I find is just an item of medical interest. His first appearance I think was to get an idea of the sort of person I was, because when he came back a few hours later (Stewart had stayed on to be with me) he was armed with computer, surgeon assistant and a more senior nurse. It was the computer that was the most useful and he very carefully took me through my latest scans. These were taken a few weeks ago, when I had already had three lots of chemo but we don't have anything to compare them with from just before the chemo as scans weren't done then. It's almost academic because it wasn't a pretty picture. The lungs were much as I would have expected; lots of blobs but none of them growing massively; he then took me to my liver, two blobs about 1.5cm but then at the bottom a much bigger and messier one, about 4-5cm; then a bit further down a 6cm blob attached outside of my bowel, nestling against my pancreas. He moved onto the MRI scan of my leg and here was another large messy blob, again about 5cm, sitting in my thigh muscle. I had no idea that I was nursing blobs so large, or so many of them. We talked about surgery and in a nutshell he said he wouldn't operate on the bowel one; it was too risky; the leg one was more operable but really he didn't think I should put myself through any of it; it would be painful, need relatively long hospitalisation and the other blobs would still be there doing their worst. In addition at present I am relatively well if you look beyond the chemo reactions. I am inclined to agree with him.

So I am planning the summer and intend to make it as wonderful as I can, in France of course once I have had the next scan, which might show some reductions who knows. How do I feel? different definitely. I knew before that I had too many blobs to make it to my three score years and ten but thought I might just get to see the 2012 Olympics; now the prospects look shorter I think and the facts are clearer. I do feel doomed and it's not pleasant. I think its all terribly unfair.. but madly I suppose, I still can't stop looking forward to the sun, to good meals, friendship and to all that the world is offering me and mine for as long as I am well enough to enjoy it all. Let's hope I can stretch it out.