smokingboot

By the 4th/ 5th centuries BC, cancer was already well known. It came from the Greek word for crab which also entered the Latin medical lexicon. My surgeon tells me that the disease got its name because tumours can be many-legged, like crabs.

They got all the cancer. They did not get all its legs. The tendrils of the thing appear to have reached the boundaries of the clean edges they cut around the tumour, so they have to go in and cut a bit more out. They want to do it asap. Here we go again.

However, the letrozole shrunk the little sod from the size of a stage 2 to a stage 1, which is great.

They found a tiny amount of cancer cells in the lymphs. It was at this point the surgeon told me that the specialist who makes these decisions asked him to 'broach the subject' of chemo with me.

'We know you have strong opinions,' he said. They are asking my permission to check out the need vs the risk of chemotherapy given the specifics of the tumour and the state of my bod in general. 'It may not be worth it,' he said, 'you are young and strong and fairly* fit.'

I told him that while I'm 7 out of 10 against having chemotherapy, I'm open to more information on the matter. They've got enough material to gauge the necessary factors, so I'll wait and see.

Not that there is much waiting to be done. I had better go wash pyjamas and get my nightbag ready. Then I am having a long sweet bath.

*This mild qualification amused me. I enjoy the implication that given my lifetime of mishaps and bacchanals it's a wonder I'm still standing.