839. 839 people read my blog post announcing my news that I had been diagnosed with skin cancer. Then a whole load of people sent me messages, comments and general outpourings of support which was great but I don’t have that many friends on Facebook so it was a little disconcerting. Encouraging but disconcerting nonetheless. After a few days of adjusting to our ‘new normal’ and getting away from it all in the big smoke the real world came crashing back in today with a CT Scan to start working out where the cancer has spread.
Now here’s the thing, there might be a huge amount of stress and emotional turmoil going on for me and my loved ones but I feel fine, absolutely fine. I had a lot of well wishers for the scan but essentially it involves a lot of sitting around, drinking a jug of water that I dearly wished was a jug of Sangria and followed by 5 minutes of being passed back and forth through a giant hoop on a bed with my trousers off. If you asked a child to mime it out for you it would be akin to poking one finger through a circle made by two fingers on the other hand (it wouldn’t be surprising if there was porn music playing or the Radiographer had a giant handlebar moustache). Now we wait for up to 4 weeks to find out if the cancer is just staying local in my leg or if it has gone walk about around the rest of my body.
So it’s a waiting game for all of us and that sucks. For every moment where I forget that there’s a giant ‘C’ printed on my forehead and life feels normal again, there is another one where my son looks at me, calls me daddy and reminds me of everything I might be about to miss out on if the results of that scan go South. I’m lucky to be around a small army of insanely positive people who keep infusing me with the ability to fight but I don’t care who you are, if you don’t have dark moments at a time like this then you’re either in denial or you’re not in full control of your faculties. It’s all the little things that crop up in your head to make you spin off your axis; like, will I get the chance to see all my friends for quality time again, have I got time to play a little Xbox still or is that a waste of life, what will the last band I get to see live be and which of my single male friends is best placed to take over from me if and when I fizzle out?
Maybe I don’t have to answer any of these questions for years to come, that’s certainly the plan, but it’s the waiting around that makes your mind drift to these topics. That can be at home while everyone else is in another room and you listen at the door, imaging life without you around. Alternatively, it can be while you’re sat in the waiting room at a hospital trying to figure just why nobody can ever seem to get your name right; seriously, in what universe is my name Ronald Mogo!?!? It’s Roland like the rat and Monger like the people who sell fish. Deal with it.