Firstly THANK YOU SO MUCH for all your kindness, it means more than I can say.

I’ve not heard the details because I was at work, but of the scenarios Bad, Worse and Terrible, it’s Worse. Which is to say it could be worse, as it does offer him a shot. It’s aggressive chemo to shrink the cancers and they hope they will then be able to operate and remove them. We get more details on Monday.

We battle on.

Update

So, he came home after a 31 day stay in hospital. Quite a lot longer than the 4-7 days we were expecting. The first few days were really tough - he was still very ill but without the reassurance of medical support. I had to learn to do a few things - and I could never have been a nurse, I am so squeamish. I had to keep a very firm mental grip not to faint.

Then, he began to improve and improve. The last couple of weeks, you wouldn’t have thought he was ill. We saw the oncologist who said that they were confident they had removed all the tumours, they couldn’t guarantee it was or wasn’t elsewhere because it was in his lymph nodes. We agreed that he would take up the offer of chemotherapy, just to be sure. Six cycles - to end in November. Over by Christmas, thought.

Then. They had found some “markers” so wanted to do (yet another) scan. After that, we were given a n appointment to discuss the results. This made me nervous. But I have a tendency to catastrophise so I tried to keep a grip. Then we got a letter for yet another scan.

Sometime even a catastrophist underestimates. He has 11 cancerous tumours in his liver. Aggressive and have appeared in the last c6 weeks. Best case scenario (and ‘best ‘ is absolutely not an appropriate word) is that they can operate and remove the lesions, then follow it up with chemo to try and prevent any return. Next least bad option is that if they zap him with aggressive chemotherapy, they can shrink the lesions so they can be operated on (then more preventative chemo). The truly terrifying ‘option’ is that they see that they cannot remove the lesions - either before or after chemotherapy. Then it’s about a “comfortable way to live out his life”.  Palliative, in other words.

The scan is on Tuesday and the oncologist will call us on Wednesday with which of these plans will be the one.

I am so terrified I can hardly breathe at times. It feels so unbearable that my mind races with an attempt to escape. But there is no escape.

Think of us, please.