Five years ago today I had the meeting with an Oncologist and lung nurse when with great solemnity and frowns I was told I had Stage 2b lung cancer. I am not the sort of person to react badly to natures will and made some jokes about it per usual. On coming out the girl (looked in her 20s) who went in before me was having a tantrum and fit in the waiting room, hitting people throwing chairs around "why me" "why me" with her poor mother trying to calm her down. It takes different people in different ways. Nearly a year latter I had another meeting same Oncologist and lung nurse to be told chemo hadn't worked and I was now stage 4, as now in both lungs, so considered terminal and with between 6 month to a year left at the then rate of tumour growth.
So here I am 5 years on, new hospital and new drugs, with no sign of any tumours in either lung apart from some shadows that could just be scarring. Pills are a PITA (literally
) but much better than being dead. I am one in less than 5% who survive this far.
Tempting fate
so here's to the next 5 years.
