Hard Facts and Bitter Pills

There are so many preconceptions about cancer. Recently we find ourselves faced with questions that stem from a huge confusion of interpretations. Anecdotes of hope and tragedy confront us out of context from a particular diagnosis. Our roller-coaster learning ride has forced us to acknowledge that there is little mileage in avoiding the unpleasant answers - or in dreaming about unrealistic outcomes. Frightening and traumatic though some details are, we have found support in the objective insights of the oncology team at the Western General Cancer Unit. Their clinical advice has been commendably professional administered with an essentially human touch.

The hard facts of Macfarlane's cancer were spelt out on 15th July this year - his birthday. " Lucky white heather " he said.
It started with a bad headache towards the end of June. Along with that there were mild hallucinations and a few disturbing " deja-vu "experiences. These we have learned to call "events".
He visited his GP on a Friday morning. With devastating efficiency his GP organised a CT scan on Monday at 10am in the Western General. By mid- day we new what we were dealing with was " not good news " . Arrangements were made immediately for further tests and by the next Friday we knew the worst.
Grade 4 cancer was diagnosed. There is no grade 5. Deadly clusters of tumors had spread to the brain from a primary growth on the lung. It had metasised into the blood stream through the lymph glands and now threatens all the vital organs. The prognosis is rarely worse. It blew through our lives like a hurricane, devastating all that we thought safe, established. Normal service would not be resumed as soon as possible. Survival would depend on our emotional fortitude, our ability to adapt to the radically altered environment of our well-being. We are learning that the fight against such odds is not about applying Hollywood heroics, or being foolhardy in defining ambitious targets for an uncertain future. The real effort comes in living for the moment, maintaining the commonplace, the routine, now that all the usual touchstones have been torn cruelly from our grasp.

We count ourselves privileged that we have such a wide circle of caring, loving family and friends. So many of you have added richness to our life with simple practical support. The kitchen elf , the cooking elves, the ironing fairy, the scone fairy, the chauffeuring fairies, the laughing emailers, the building maintenance squad, the hospitality angels, the nothings- too -much trouble brigade, the tireless listeners, - and on, and on, and on.

Thank - you.

PS. The Maggie Centre has been a great source of support. They'll give personalized help to anyone with issues on any aspect of living with cancer. www.maggiescentres.org