Cancer 40

It is the big day tomorrow. My first oncology appointment. It is hard to know what to think, and my feelings are contradictory. For all my attempts at rationalising the experience of dying of cancer I feel at times that my resilience is being battered and is in danger of breaking.

While I have no idea what will be said or discussed at the meeting tomorrow, I do run possibilities through my mind because my brain gives me no choice. I look at the worst case scenario; “The cancer is so advanced you have days/weeks to live,” and I look at the best case scenario, “We have very efffective treatments for this form of cancer which means you can live a nearly complete life for years to come.” I suspect the reality will be somewhere in between the two, though there is another worst case scenario, “You have a significant growth but another operation can deal with this.” I don’t want another operation. The last one nearly killed me. The problem is, if it is suggested that either I have the operation with a significant chance of a prolonged life versus no operation and death within weeks I think I am daft enough to choose the operation, even though the effects of the last operation are still to the forefront of memory.

I can feel all sorts in my abdomen, but I have no idea whether I am feeling cancerous tumours, the after-effects of the operation (abdominal muscle still recovering), the impact of a bad diet (I have eaten most of a bacon joint over the weekend and cake), the novelty of the stoma (you don’t need details), or just an over-active neurotic imagination creating pain and unease where there does not need to be pain and unease.

I still have no fear of death, only of dying. The difference between when I was still seriously ill from the operation and now is that I can more clearly see the things I would like to do while I am alive. I realise that once I am dead this will be irrelevant but I am not dead yet.

Orwell was right when he discussed doublethink. I would like to extend this to doublefeel. It is quite amazing how two or more entirely contradictory thoughts or feelings can be happening in my head simultaneously. I have experienced this before under normal circumstances, but the intensity when it is life or death is quite brilliant. It is the supernova of the brain world. At the same time I am optimistic and pessimistic. I am sad and happy. I am looking forward and I am looking back. I am planning my next book and I am planning my funeral.

In the end, there is little point in me fretting about tomorrow, but that is what we do isn’t it? Something important is happening so it tends to focus the mind, sometimes constructively, often not. The best thing I can do today is to get outside and enjoy the sunny weather. Perhaps go for a short walk (there are no longer ones), eat some nice food (or any food – that has always been part of the problem), go for a drive, read a book while sitting in the garden, or whatever I want.

Margaret Mitchell, said that ‘Gone with the Wind’ was about survival, about how some people can live through catastrophe. She asked what it was that enabled some people to survive terrible circumstances and others didn’t. She said that survivors would call the ability to survive ‘gumption’ and that her book was about those who had gumption and those who didn’t. I believe I have gumption, even though my thoughts and feelings are all over the place at the moment.

Here’s to gumption! I hope it survives in me after tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day.