Cancer 237
Well, it is an, exciting life having terminal cancer. Up to this morning I was thinking I was running into my last weeks. I have now been to see the consultant. It turns out that because the tumour growth was under 20% (I don’t know whether that means 5% or 19%, but it feels more like the latter) I can continue with the same treatment. I was given options. First, continue as it is, second reduce the dosage to reduce side effects, third, stop treatment because my quality of life is poor.
What I have learned from the last week or so is that I don’t want to die. I am not ready to die. Despite having many days of awful side effects, I still have some days where I feel reasonably well (ignore the abdominal pain or drink morphine; ignore the falling asleep in my chair), so I want to live. I want to carry on getting about, reading books, writing my thesis, and so on. That excludes option three. Reducing the dosage might reduce the side effects, but it may also reduce the efficacy of the treatment, so that is option two out. I am continuing with the treatment as before, so it is time to man up, somehow make the days of the side effects more tolerable, and get on with it.
So, happy birthday to me, that was a pretty good present. Thanks to everyone who has been so supportive over the last week or two. As I have said before, it really does help.
To the future then. There has been discussion of a second living wake. You know, a bite to eat, a glass of milk. If you would like to attend such a thing, please contact me and I will sort something out. I wonder how many living wakes I can attend before I miss the final one?
Dr Nigel Hunt 
Comment from Tony Milne:
It is good to read this, Nigel. May you be like the Quo, or The Who and wear us down with yet another ‘last’ tour (or living wake – 1 think that was what the last decade or two of Quo tours must’ve been like).
Forgive me but I only started reading again recently – as you know, we’ve had our (un) fair share of living alongside cancer – and it’s pretty much the last thing I want to think about when I don’t have to, which is probably selfish. But cancer is a selfish disease. I’m very familiar with much of what you’re going through: familiar being the apposite term here. You write it well. I only wish this had been here ten plus years ago so I could better understand what Rupe went through at the time (though I don’t wish that it was you writing this that long ago). Cancer eats away at the simple daily joys of life – for those around the sufferer as well as the afflicted. ‘But I have cancer’ trumps all: the unfunny joker in the deck of life. I’m reminded of the lyric from Dark Side Of The Moon: the guilty feeling that we fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way” until the grim reminder that there is not much life left to live. May your living wakes continue like the rock dinosaurs’ farewells…that was what the last decade or two of Quo tours must’ve been like). Forgive me but I only started reading again recently – as you know, we’ve had our (un) fair share of living alongside cancer – and it’s pretty much the last thing I want to think about when I don’t have to, which is probably selfish. But cancer is a selfish disease. I’m very familiar with much of what you’re going through: familiar being the apposite term here. You write it well. I only wish this had been here ten plus years ago so I could better understand what Rupe went through at the time (though I don’t wish that it was you writing this that long ago). Cancer eats away at the simple daily joys of life – for those around the sufferer as well as the afflicted. ‘But I have cancer’ trumps all: the unfunny joker in the deck of life. I’m reminded of the lyric from Dark Side Of The Moon: the guilty feeling that we fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way” until the grim reminder that there is not much life left to live.
May your living wakes continue like the rock dinosaurs’ farewells…
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