We weren’t expecting that
Two bits of news, one much bigger, and much more important than the other.
We had a lovely Christmas, thank you v much. We parked Doris on Rebecca and Steven’s front garden, and had 9 days with them and – importantly – with Henry. He was fab, and it was particularly good to see him want to be playing with C (rather than me!). We took the train into Birmingham, saw the lights at Shugborough, ate too much chocolate, watched too much darts (even played a bit in their garage), saw Jen and James a couple of times (which was lovely) and generally had a v family time. We ran and walked, ate cake and drank too much wine. Just what Christmas is for.
However … C had some waterworks issues at the beginning of December, and was dispatched for an ultrasound and then a CT scan over Christmas. The long and the short is that she has bladder cancer. It’s on the lining of her bladder and, as far as anyone knows with actually taking it out, it hasn’t gone through the lining. Which is good.
The NHS has been brilliant; everything has happened so quickly. And, after a consultant’s appointment early this week, we were expecting a call to have the operation (via a cystoscopy) within ‘weeks’ – the NHS target is within two weeks. In the end C is booked in on 25 February, and her pre-op is this week. Which has, by luck rather than design, allowed us to head off to Chatel a week today, stay for three weeks, see Rebecca, Steven and Henry in the last of those weeks, and back in time for tea and medals.
If things are as they are, C will have the op – including bladder-intravenous chemo – on the same day. Come home, recover and then live a normal life – although she will need regular check ups as bladder cancer is one of these which does reoccur.
And so the only way to look at it is that it could have been much worse. Having cancer is scary as hell, because it can destroy major organs and spread and cause havoc. It seems that this, at this stage, is as good as it’s going to get. And C is incredibly phlegmatic about it, and I am so proud of her for being that way. Hence skiing. (Yippee!)
Fingers crossed. Oh, and why has she got it? Smoking is the number one cause. But we also think that she has a habit of not hydrating sufficiently. We have no particular medical knowledge to back this up, but I’m always complaining that she doesn’t drink enough (of the right sort of stuff!).
Phew. So our January has been full of this and, sadly, attending Malcolm’s (C’s brother-in-law’s) funeral. And a lot of other adminy type of things when you have a diagnosis such as this and start to tidy up a few loose ends, no matter how crazy that sounds.
Oh. The second thing. I have finished the first draft of The Machines Came Too. I was after a sharp 80/90,000 words. You know, standard novel length. In the end it is 150,000 words – yes, you read that right. It wasn’t easy. I started just as we were losing Mary and tried to write at least 1,000 words a day. I didn’t pen anything when B, S and H joined us for half term in Spain, but only missed one other day. But, it was its length (my longest novel so far) that took the time. And it hurt. It was a real struggle.
Am I proud of it? Yes, of course. Is it any good? I’ll let you know when I’ve done with draft two, which will happen when C is convalescing – so, by the end of February. That job is not going to be easy as I know there are plenty of errors and changes needed. Hey … the hard part is done.
That’s us.
What’s the lesson? Live every day. Love every day. Ignore the complete, unmitigated fiasco which is the Trump presidency. And look after your own. Stay safe.
(By the way … if anyone wants to discuss cancer, or bladder cancer, then please get in touch.)
