I don’t like the cancer cliches, but it is easy to see how they come about. The latest one to seem relevant is “roller-coaster”. Getting surgery over with was a bit of a relief after the tension and uncertainty of the long run-up. And the first few days afterwards were a time of recovery, when I could see and feel myself getting better. Not to mention the visits and well-wishers – sometimes there was almost a party atmosphere! But now my recovery seems to have reached a plateau. I am up and doing quite a lot, but still restricted and very bruised, and I’m getting bored with doing my physio exercises. Plus, the approach of the next clinic visit is becoming increasingly oppressive: I am once more obsessively trawling articles on the internet, this time attempting to estimate my chances of having cancer in the lymph nodes. The bleakest forecast is around 50:50, but I try to tell myself it probably isn’t as bad as that, as this statistic must include those poor sods whose tumours were grade 4 as well as those who had grade 1 lumps like me (but then again, the grading can change following the investigations they do after surgery). So I here I am counting days down again to an appointment I don’t really want to go to. Don’t think waiting for Christmas; think waiting for crucial exam results – only a bit worse.
I never was an adrenaline junkie. Can’t say I’m enjoying the ride much.
PS Just as I was about to post this, I was much cheered by a phone call from a friend who had bc five years ago. While I am absolutelynotnowaynever going to join any Cancer Club, her support is very, very welcome. She has just spent 20 days climbing in the Pyrenees.