10. Scan time… Fear and loathing of stage 4 cancer

This one is short and eh, not so sweet kind of rant…

It’s scan time and I’m waiting on results of a CT I had in Dublin yesterday. That means anxiety, worry, doubt, fear… It’s the time where I distrust myself and my choices the most and the ice queen’s words swirl around my head… your liver will fail and you will die, you won’t feel as good in 6 months’ time...  It’s the time where I put a plan B into place. Anyone who has had cancer will tell you the same, it’s the most anxious part. Waiting for results. If I get a call straight away is it bad news? It’s limbo again, that place I know so well. So what’s plan B?

Any time I’ve gone for a scan, Paul and myself have had to decide what news we’d be happy with. And we always say if has shrunk or stayed the same size, we’re doing ok but if there’s growth and spread, well then we need to think about doing something more radical. And the radical move that is always in the back of my mind is a private cancer clinic. There are many located all around the world but most are either in Europe or Mexico. Why a private cancer clinic? Can you not get treatment here? Well these clinics offer a whole range of treatments which go from completely alternative like the Gerson clinics, to integrative (traditional + alternative/supportive treatments). An example of an integrative clinic would be a Hufeland Klinik in Germany which offers hyperbaric oxygen, hyperthermia, IV Vitamin C, immunotherapy etc. Or the Oasis of Hope in Mexico which claims to have survival rates 3 times higher than the USA. These clinics are very expensive and are really the last resort for people who have tried everything else. But you haven’t tried everything else Mairead! I know, I know… but we all know that I’m looking for a cure, not just a few years so that option is really not an option. And if I do go to a clinic? Well I’m in physically very good shape so I’m assuming I’d have a pretty good chance of coming home and sticking around for a while, more than a few years, I might make it to pension age. Anyway, that’s the plan B shenanigans that goes on every time I have a scan. If you see me checking in online at the airport in the next week or so, you’ll know I’ve had bad news! Wish me luck…

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5 comments

      • Mairead, I can hardly bear to read your posts which is very cowardly of me! You are constantly in my thoughts and prayers. Good luck as you await the news. Julie

      • I’m sure it brings back memories! Not cowardly at all, it makes for hard reading for anyone in the same boat I’d imagine! Thanks so much xx

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