While no one was looking, and despite being the picture of health, over the summer Catering has grown a tumour and not a nice one at that.
When Alex was very small, we had our first family experience of dealing with cancer and now it seems we are to have another. I think it’s fair to say that even though I’ve been here before, I felt the same initial wave of terror as my mind rushed through all the awful scenarios it could muster, before I got it back under control.
When asked how I am, I reply “Fine! As long as I don’t think about it or talk about it, I am absolutely fine.” This may sound flippant but there is a degree of seriousness in it. I was given a very sound piece of advice by Alex’s consultant, early in his treatment. He advised strongly against asking why or what if, as it wouldn’t change anything and on the whole, no good would come of it. Instead, he advised me to get behind the plan (there is usually a plan) and only think of the future in manageable, bite-size chunks e.g., today, tomorrow, and possibly the day-after.
So here we go:
THE PLAN is that a leaner and fitter Catering (he has lost 10 kilos since October and was commended for being one of the fittest 57-year-olds they had seen at his pre-op assessment) is going to have aforementioned nasty tumour removed (COVID permitting) on Tuesday Feb 8th. Whether he will need chemotherapy post-op will be decided once they have a better idea as to whether the cancer cells have travelled anywhere else (so far, the scans look promising).
THE FUTURE is today DAY 1 Self-isolation, tomorrow DAY 2 and the day-after DAY 3. We have a fortnight of self-isolation ahead of the operation to try and ensure Catering is kept COVID free. It’s your own mini lockdown while the rest of the world carries on without you.
DAY 1 S-I
As we are confined to barracks, we had a relatively lazy start to the day as my usual 7.30am swim and Catering’s site visits are verboten. If I jump out of bed as usual at 6.30am it is going to make for a very long day to fill and there is only so much ironing & cupboard rationalisation a girl can do. While on the subject of ironing (I know it’s terribly unfashionable to admit to a) pressing all household clothing that doesn’t melt when introduced to an iron and b) quite enjoying the task) I have discovered that it has a very restorative quality. When we first received Catering’s diagnosis, I found it was a task I could perform, pretty much on automatic pilot, that let my mind go everywhere and then finally return to a calmer state. The upside is that, although we are a bit all over the place emotionally, we are tidily presented and the beds are all freshly laundered, not that anyone can come to stay.
I had a stomp through the woods at lunchtime and, despite it being a cold, grey day, managed to work up a head of steam that required hat and glove removal to combat overheating. I decided it was too cold to get the bike out, a conviction reinforced by Catering’s decision to dodge a rowing machine session and the need to venture out to the garage where it lives.
Interestingly, 3 alcohol-free days and some fresh air (well for me anyway) meant we both slept like logs and in the circumstances, a good night’s sleep is a distinct bonus.
