Shots

All right, wake wake wake and come back...

This project has eaten my head to the extent that I didn't realise I was running low on Letrozole. I wish they'd give me more than a month's supply at a time!

My body didn't respond well to that marker, but I feel better now. Today, hospital results, let's see how that thing is doing.

This being R's 50th birthday year, our intention was to go somewhere very special. The surgeon agreed that it would be better to do this before my procedures start, cos that'll be me stuck for a few months. It was going to be the Galapagos, but El Niño's peaking and let's face it, iguana skeletons, empty seas, and a sick wife are not great omens for one's golden year. So we have reverted to an earlier plan, Vietnam and Cambodia. And that means shots.

I am phobic of shots to the extent that even writing about them is difficult, but it's all discipline. I'm expecting the usual suspects; Hep A and B, Diptheria, Typhoid... what's the other one? Tetanus? But I have had the full course of tetanus treatments the NHS prescribes over a lifetime. Maybe I can skip it.

Ah but. The rabies shot. Eh, really? I gather it's a course rather than the one. Unpleasant.

So today I'll ask the surgeon if I need to check for adverse effects.

Yeesh.

Results

Not tempting hubris but...
( Don't look if Mammogram images freak you out )

And though it's gross to see, it's also very cool and for me, fascinating; not just the changes but the fact that I can observe it in this way. Age of Miracles, baby! I thought the marker was a protein, it's not, its a teeny metal clip attached so that they don't lose sight of the tumour pre-op.

The whole thing is awful and the drugs are horrendous, but not every story ends badly. Maybe this one still will, maybe fate breaks us just as we breathe out. Maybe not.

I never really know what to say re those amazons who stand strong, feel the warrior within, having beaten cancer. So glad for them, but I have problems couching it in battle terms, even though I know my body is fighting for its life. But my heart tells me that if one loses, it is no testament to anything except crummy luck. Strong amazing people live. Strong amazing people die.

Thing is though, this insidious little SOB can die too. And it's worth all the crap to make it happen.

There's a storm outside, the third in two weeks, rage and passion in the grey deep.

I'm glad to see it.