Eminem

The post I never wanted to write.

As genius lyricist Eminem once said "Guess who's back, back again?" Well fuck. My cancer is back. Not only is it back, it's now what's known as Secondary Cancer. This means it has spread outside of where the primary cancer was and are growing in a new part of my body. In my case it has spread to my bones. To be more precise, to my ribs, my breastbone, a small bit in my right shoulder and a small bit in my left pelvis area. The lump I had biopsied is also cancer. And I have some in my glands behind my breastbone. Well fuckadoodledoo.

Mum, Col and Rob came to my appointment with me, as I walk into the specialist's room I see 4 chairs, I see the specialist's sympathy tilty head and I know. She doesn't give us any bullshit and tells us straight, it's not good news. She tells us where the fucking bastard is and that I'll be seeing the oncologist on Monday to make a plan. Rob is in tears, I can see my mum shaking and Col has gone white. She can't or won't give me a prognosis. I presume this is the oncologist's call.

The BCN Chris leads us all to the Doom Room (it's not called this really, it's just the place you're led after having been given shite news. Hence the Doom Room). I've been here before. Almost 5 fucking years ago. I almost reached the magic number 5. She gives us some pamphlets and goes through more slowly what the specialist told us. It's likely I'll start with radiotherapy and then chemo but I have to wait until Monday for a full plan.

As I write this, I think I'm in shock. I feel disassociated from reality. How the fuck am I supposed to wake up tomorrow and deal with this. I'll never be a mummy now. I'm going to die (not yet Grim Reaper - piss off) at some point in the near (in the grand scheme of things) future. I'm not ready to die.

I've told the people closest to me. If love could cure cancer, I would be the healthiest person in the world.