Having decided that I would have both cancers removed in a joint operation, my next appointment would be with Professor Tahir to discuss the chemotherapy I would have to undergo prior to the operation. After that I would have one final procedure to give additional information to the surgeons, an ultrasound endoscopy.
The appointment with Prof. Tahir took place on the 10th April and was basically a question and answer session.
Two procedures and four appointments in the two weeks that Pat was away is good going by any standards. I hate to think, that had the periods between these been much longer, what difference it may have made to my chances of survival. Delay is too often the difference between life or death.
It was late the evening of the appointment with Prof. Tahir that Pat arrived home from her holiday. It was immediately apparent to her that I was not at my best. The bags under my eyes and drawn features told their own story but it was too late that night to tell her the truth of what had happened during the last fortnight. I decided to let her have a good night’s sleep first. Unsurprisingly a good night’s sleep completed eluded me. How was I going to tell Pat in the morning? What could I say to ease the pain of what I had to tell her?
Morning came and it was crunch time. I could tell by Pat’s appearance that the holiday had been beneficial and that on some level, she had enjoyed her two weeks away. Unfortunately, there were other things to discuss first. There was no way to dress up the facts so I simply said “there is more bad news I’m afraid, I have cancer of the bowel as well”. There was no emotion but I could see from the look in her eyes the same shock and disbelief that I had already experienced. The same thought was going through her mind, just as it had mine, that there was no chance of surviving two cancers. The silence was so thick you could cut it. In a way it was lucky that the ultrasound endoscopy was scheduled for later that morning and it gave us both the chance to collect our thoughts. I would like to have been a little more descriptive of things like the weather etc. but the truth is that the cancers and my treatment seem to have extinguished everything else.
As previous, it was agreed that I would go to “Queen’s” on my own and Pat would come up later to collect me. The sedative was administered but the procedure was more uncomfortable than the first time, possibly due to it being a somewhat more extensive procedure. I did experience some gagging but this was nothing in comparison to what was to come later. An hour after I was taken to the resting ward I was wondering whether there was going to be any further unpleasant surprises but gladly not on this occasion.
The time had come to accept the possibility that life, especially for Pat, might be changing. I had to put my affairs in order. For the next few days I was glued to the phone and making notes on all the bureaucracy that Pat would have to contend with in the event of my demise. There was no point in trying to hide from the possibility so I phoned every company or establishment that Pat would need to contact and had them talk me through which departments, telephone numbers and documents she would need to inform them of the new situation she would now find herself in. Going through the bureaucracy process after a loved one has died is the last thing anybody wants to be going through so I wanted to make it as painless as possible. We even visited three funeral parlours to determine the service that I wanted and the prices of each. We were amazed at the difference between them for exactly the same service. I had already settled on the music that I wanted played and each parlour was amused that I wanted the people leaving the service to do so dancing to the Conga. I wanted my life and death to be celebrated and for people to remember me as the person I am and was for good or bad.
Visiting funeral parlours is not normally a bundle of laughs even if it was being done with the best of intentions. Her job, as she saw it, was to support me in any way that she could and that included staying strong. The stress on Pat wasn’t obvious but it was there being very carefully hidden. Every time we had a meal she was watching for the signs of my difficulty in eating.
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