My cancer journey

 Every cancer journey is unique. I had wished to supress mine, perhaps in the vain hope that by ignoring it, I might forget its presence. But it reminds me anyway, with its visibly large, ugly, multiple, subcutaneous secondaries, and its aches like a dog chewing its bone, growing and threatening if touched. Also, I have been encouraged to write a little more of this most undignified journey, though I have little understanding of why people might want to read it. Perhaps because I have spent my professional life dealing with disease, I have become hardened and take in just symptoms and signs, and a differential diagnosis, as we were taught. 

For those who still wish to read further, I will add that it has not been an easy week. For three days, I had nausea and heavy urinal bleeding and passed a gravel-like deposit: but I have now started an antibiotic and all seems clear again. My appetite is small, my energy tiny, and I have become increasingly breathless on any exertion. I read this week of a successful trials for a new treatment specifically aimed at malignant melanoma; but mine is too advanced, and the treatment too demanding for my body, for me to be considered a candidate. Perhaps for those who follow, it will offer hope, and I am certain one day even this most vicious of cancers may be brought under harness and controlled. But it will be too late for me.

Now to a more diverting topic. We managed to get to Shotley mid-week, although disapppointingly the restaurant was shut, with only a standby burger-van. There was nothing vegetarian on the menu, so we had plain burger baps with a bit of cheese in. The bread was a little doughy, and Annie felt this may have induced my nausea; well, its good to blame something else other than my body. I took a photo of Annie, and asked Chat GPT to frame it as if Annie were helming a boat. It did a pretty good job, and even suggested a charming title. It even remembered to give Annie a smart lifejacket.

Joyful Senior at the Helm