I see that WordPress now offers a ‘writing helper’. I feel as though I could make use of that. It has been so long since I recorded anything significant on here that I’ve forgotten how to start.
When P began his nuclear therapy last September, we felt paradoxically safe. The consultant told us there would be no diagnostic scans, indeed no attempts at all, to assess P’s disease progress until all four radioactive rounds were done. This gave us a false sense of security, of course; once his body got used to the invasive radioactivity, P began to put on weight and feel more like he had a couple of years ago. And no-one could interrupt and tell us any different.
Now that time is up. A few weeks ago P underwent two days of scans to find out whether the PRRT has shrunk or stabilised his tumours, or maybe had no effect at all. We weren’t worried, because he felt so well. We arrived on time, to find a long clinic delay, and by it came to our turn, the consultant had for various reasons left the building. We had to have the highly complex results interpreted by the Specialist Nurse. How I feel about the role of the Specialist Nurse would require a whole other blog. This one was clearly out of her depth, and there was some blue touch-paper and some lighting. P stood well back, not wanting to be singed. Anyway, the upshot would appear to be that the tumours have remained stable, but that the cancer has spread to his bones – his pelvis, ribs and spine, to be precise. What this means is not clear to us until we see an actual consultant. This will happen in late September. P had had pain in his back, and this turns out to be the first sign of bone spread. He was very upset for about ten minutes, then it was back to his usual setting – cheerful optimism tinged with denial. And who could take that away from him?
