No not that one. Nor clickbait neither.
Cured. Mr A has said my cancer is cured. Now there is a proper C word for you.
Of course I still have the little matters of MS and I still have COPD. But Mr A is an ear nose and throat man, and as far as ear nose and throat goes I am in the clear.
Now frankly I am not used to good news when it comes to my health. This bombshell, welcome though it was, came a while ago now, and I confess I’ve held back from talking about it. I have enough of a classical education to be wary of hubris. So I am not shouting from any rooftop. I have a fairly good idea of what my particular nemesis might be, which type of fall would come after my particular pride, and I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be pretty.
But maybe there comes a time, and maybe that time is now, when it’s right to let hubris be damned and acknowledge that sometimes, very occasionally, it’s ok to celebrate a little victory.
So farewell to Clinic E. No more visits there. No more cameras up my nose, no more biopsies or tests, and no more hanging around waiting to be seen. Oh the waiting was probably the worst of all of it.
Glad to see the back of it? Of course.
Except there is just a little part of me that misses being where the action is. I am what you might call a cancer civilian now, I just have to get used to that.