On Tuesday I had a CT scan. It was not like a normal scan when you've just had chemo. Instead of hoping to not see any tumour activity after a long bout of poisoning, we actually WANT this. Which is a bizzare state of affairs by any reckoning. You see my lungs look like a Mr Messy cartoon at the moment. It's been very hard to see between the scar tissue of two major operations and any other nodules which might be hiding the disease. It's the world's shittiest game of needle in a haystack. Previous scans and MRI's have (thankfully) shown no signs of spreading. It's just we starting with something so massive in my lungs and heart that eliminating all the detritus afterwards is like picking up litter after the end of Glastonbury. Hence while we still are at it over three years later. The damn thing is coming from somewhere as my tumour markers denote, so this scan is to try and pinpoint where so my surgical team have a chance at removing the right bit next year. It's always good to have a clear plan with surgeons, as they are cold eyed cutting machines with a dislike of uncertainty.
So this is a weird week of scanxiety. Thinking good news next Tuesday would be what every other cancer patient dreads. To be honest this is a weird week anyway. It's the start of advent today. People putting up trees and sending Christmas cards with those excruciating achievement round ups of the year. What would I put? My thoughts at the start of the year would be that this would be a post cancer blog by now. Rebuilding my life, starting new projects and generally not being ill. Maybe even writing a dating blog like Dolly Alderton's old Sunday Times column and Justin Myers The Guyliner I haven't seen that experience written about much. All the friends with partners I've met with cancer have been with them before diagnosis. I could be making incisive commentary about dating post illness and waspish takes on bar decor, but instead I've got this.
In the meantime I am going to try and be Christmassy even though I'm not really feeling it this year. I'm going to go out as much as possible and see as many friends and family in the next month as my liver will cope with (I don't drink much these days so I'm a very cheap date).
I know this isn't the end, not by a long stretch. I've managed to survive this year though, and whatever happens on Tuesday that's something to celebrate.