Well, I’ll find out today what treatment the hospital has in store for me regarding the auld cancer. I phoned today asking about pain killers – I’ve had a bad couple of nights, sleep wise. The pain in my right under arm down to my elbow is quite intense, my neck, especially the right side is the worst of all. Even more worrying is the wee twinge I get in my chest whenever I breathe in or out. The blood cancer/ Lymphoma hasn’t been great, but ever since Dr Maung told me in September that I had a 50/50 chance of surviving the cancer, my first thought was ‘at least I won’t have to do those shit shifts at B and Q for a while’. I was never worried about things – it’s a wee bit different now that ‘Plan A’ has failed. I’m determined that the wee holiday in France will be a great wee few days for Davy and I – we might not have many opportunities in the future to go on holiday again. The thought of being in the Parc des Princes Thirty Two years to the day since we were there for the last Euro’s in France is an exciting thought. Davy phoned today to tell me he’d ordered our France tops- I’ll have my France 82 top with ‘Tresor’ on the back and my France 84 top with ‘Giresse’ on the back of that. Hopefully this cancer will have a heart and let me see France in June. ….. It’s now 5.30pm and Dr McNeil phoned earlier. I’ve to go to St Jocks tomorrow morning to see him about the chemo. I’ve to get a different kind of chemo therapy this time -just my luck that my body hair is back to about 90% of what it was pre last chemo – now it looks as though my Parisienne night with Fifi le F–k and Nat king Cole will be called off. I’ve also to give blood samples and get cancer pain killers – my lapse on Saturday will no doubt show up on the blood samples -after no fags of any kind since the Heart attack in October [Five Months and a week ] I had a few joints and I must admit I thoroughly enjoyed every one of them – not enough to want to make a habit of it again, but enough to make me celebrate the end of my next chemo with a wee Rastafarian roll up – if I make it. It was Mr M and Mrs M’s fault your honour- they made me dae it. No they didn’t – we had a good wee night and I can still drink from Eight at night till Eleven in the morning. I suppose it’s all about thinking the best – it could have been worse – the Doctor could have told me to organise an undertaker and a measuring tape.
The cancer Diaries 31,3 16
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