I went up to TaiDa hospital today. I went alone, and it was great. I can do things alone again, like in the good old days before my diagnosis. Met professor Ko, who operated on me. He seemed happy enough with my progress, although the neck is stiff and my mouth is dry. I should gargle with salt-water, he said. I like low-tech solutions like that.
Afterwards I did a blood test, a lung X-ray and an MRI. The MRI tunnel is starting to feel like a place I know really well. The symphony of pneumatic drills is strangely soothing.
I’ve dreaded going back to the doctor. I’ve been telling myself that I’m a normal person, with some minor health issues. For two months we haven’t mentioned the word “cancer” in our house — referring to it instead, euphemistically, as “my condition.” Today, however, there is no escaping it. “Cancer, cancer, cancer” — I might as well shout it loud; I mustn’t lie to myself.
I had an operation and I did the radiation treatment. The presumption is that the treatment worked and that I’m much better. Lets hope that’s the case.