A first beam

We went to Oncology on Tuesday. For the first time I saw the specialist positively beam. He’d heard good things from the Breast Surgery team & at last had some optimism that we were on the right path.

There is a bit of me that feels a bit sorry for him. The first time we met he was lumbered with the unenviable task of explaining the implications if the chemotherapy didn’t work - essentially that we were talking about palliative care – not the most pleasant task for anyone. Having been on ward when some people have been given the news of cancer & heard the histrionics that ensued – and my man is very much the reserved Englishman – I can well believe it is something he dreaded.

On top of which it was the first time he’d met me. I suspect he took one look at me. He saw a silver-haired old woman, in a wheelchair. On paper he read a long list of medical problems & history of ops & thought my chances were slight. Especially as I’m double negative. Double negatives are not supposed to respond well to chemo, which is why I didn’t have chemo years ago when I first had breast cancer. What doesn’t seem to have occurred to him is that, despite that long medical history & list of problems, & the wheelchair, I still tend to look full of health (though the chemo is now making look a bit gaunt). That just goes to show I have a strong resilience, an inner strength that keeps me going. I am a survivor, up to a fight.

Now at last he’s raising his eyes to look me in the face. He’s even smiling & joking. Maybe he’s just congratulating himself on having got the treatment right. Either way it’s nice to see his gloom dissipate.

Next week I’m off for another CT scan. Hopefully it will confirm the tumour has shrunk sufficiently for the surgeon to be able to operate in the new year as we all suspect is the case from what can be seen by a superficial examination. We’re also hoping that the cancer hasn’t just moved to other organs. I will be seeing the oncologist immediately after Christmas, so fingers crossed….