Back in February I had a stroke which could have ended my life earlier than hoped. A month or so later I was diagnosed with cancer which I called Jeremy Hunt. I had a massive operation on my neck where the left side of it was dissected, the cancer removed along with my thyroid ((I did also nearly die during the operation but I got better) which has given me a kewl scars chicks will love, and as for the stroke recovery that’s been slow due to the cancer treatment which for obvious reasons was the most important.but I’ve been undergoing radio-iodine treatment to mop up what cancer was left in my body after the operation which took a lot of tissue out my neck.
So, the last eight months have been shite because I was supposed to move back to Glasgow from here in Bristol in March, but none of my consultants would approve such a move. I wasn’t fit to go further than the city centre of Bristol anyhow, but you adjust, effectively become used to the imminent prospect of one’s own early demise. Essentially my theme song sing March has been this…
Anyhow, my life’s been on hold for months. I don’t think until it happens to you that you quite understand what that means or how shockingly bleak it can be. Now I’m not pretending I was in a terrible state, or the worst case ever, but for me it was and it seemed never to have an end I was stuck in a seemingly eternal limbo with my life on hold.
Today was a follow up appointment with my consultant at oncology. We had a chat, things were poked, parts were prodded and he said that I was, for now, in the clear in regards my cancer. I still need six monthly checks and a set of injections to help my body recover after the removal of my thyroid, but for now I’m not going to die, well, not as soon as I may have in March had the staff of the Bristol Royal Infirmary and the NHS not done what they did. I also made him aware of my plan to move to Glasgow, and he’s fine with that. In fact tomorrow he’s going to find out who his equivalent is in Glasgow, have a wee chat, and set up my transfer to him so he or she will be dealing with my care in future.
My internal soundtrack has transferred to this..
This means getting my arse in gear, but first I need to process things to shift back from the norm of living with constant fear of dying early and start being a tad more positive, and of course, getting myself up to Glasgow. A day or so of adjusting, some thought and then I’m hitting the north…