You never know!

I have just re-read my last blog, which was largely ruminative about how I am going to spend the rest of my life, whether I was going to retire from practice, whether I would get involved in work for Alzheimer's.  I didn't know then that I had bowel cancer.  I had been under investigation for a bit of pain and constipation since October, had seen the gastro-enterologist, had a barium enema which was reported as normal and was waiting for review.  The week after that post wasn't good, with pain waking me at night, and not much activity in the bathroom.  I saw the specialist on the Wednesday and he thought it was time I had a CT scan, and by the Thursday I had an appointment booked for the Saturday.  By Friday I was completely obstructed and admitted to hospital as an emergency, only to find the CT scanner, brand new, had broken down and due to the ash cloud the spare part was being driven from Germany! 

In the event the machine got mended by Saturday afternoon and I was first on the list, and at last I had my diagnosis.  The next day I had open surgery removing the cancer, part of an ovary to which it was stuck, and joining up the cut ends of my colon. After a week they sent me home, and I spent the next five weeks gradually realising that the join wasn't functional.  Eventually I had appointment with a fourth consultant who managed to do the necessary stretch and I am now supposedly fit to commence chemotherapy in three days time.

So - I am now officially retired, and indeed no longer registered or licensed to practice medicine.  I am enjoying spending most of my time in the garden (without feeling I should be reading medical journals), reading light novels, eating and sleeping.  Unfortunately I have  got past the stage where people say: 'should you be doing that?', so I have come through the delightful stage of convalescence and must get to grips with this next stage of my life.

I haven't gone through the 'why me?' thing, we all have a limited life-span and have to die of something.  Given the choice, I would prefer not to have Alzheimer's and have sort of prayed not to get it, so I can't help suspecting this may be God's sense of humour.  That's OK, I am totally out of control here, and can only trust that he will see me through the 'deep water'.  I have been surrounded by prayer, and been upheld and calmed by it. I have no idea whether God plans to show his power by healing me or whether this is the beginning of my particular last journey.  My prognosis, taking account of the chemo, is a 50 - 55% chance of surviving 5 years.  That really puts your life into perspective.  It links with the family tree I have been doing for the last couple of years - all those people living out their important, significant lives, all confined within a life-span.  We only get one shot at it.

What will happen to this blog when I am dead?  Will it be frozen in time on the internet?  There's a thought!  A time-capsule of thoughts and experiences.

Enough!  Mary, you are probably the only person who still reads this.  I do hope you don't find it painful or morbid - I don't.  I am writing with one eye and ear on Jonathan Dimbleby's African journey, and there were clips of the ethiopian famine in 1984.  Now that's a different slant on it! What a good, easy life we have had.  I have had some pain for a week or two, but you can't call that suffering.  Well, let's see how it goes over the next few years.