No Drama

I have noticed that posts get over 500 views when there’s an emergency or some drama. Old TV habits die hard. At Channel 4 we were aware that the Asian and Black audiences went up when you put ‘Secret’ and ‘Genius’ in the title. So today I am aiming to be very dull. No clickbait titles. No drama. What a relief.

After a performative afternoon defying the bed rest order in hospital and being comically annoying by negotiating secret trips to the shop with the nurses and leaping about chatting to other patients, the doctors finally came. ‘You look too young and fit to be in this ward Miss Chan’ says the Australian consultant. ‘That’s right I say. Why not discharge me? (And by the way it’s Dr or Professor young man and you can call me either’). I enjoy correcting the patriarchy in medical settings. I tell him he looks ‘pretty young’ to me too but his junior doctor colleague, who he just introduced as a young lady, looks ‘of a professional age’ to me.

We look at my spine and the other four tumours. Yes that’s 5 in total. I feel like I have a special rock collection. it turns out it was just the over enthusiastic pull downs and pull overs in the gym causing me pain radiating from the T12. They don’t want me to stop. Just watch the thoracic extension and depth of my leg press and back squats with the bar. It puts a lot of pressure. There is a way to keep being fit without giving up. I am worried if I stop I will just seize up. The couple of days I spent depressed on the sofa proved this to be correct. Keep moving. Swimming is the best but building muscle gently protects your bones.

I learn a few things from the new MRI scan. The tumour on my spine is small and thankfully 2cm from my spinal column which is what they worry about. The doctor says they expect it to shrink. But neither consultant wanted to say this the day before so I’m taking the most positive outcome to be the right one. The thing on my left hip is 1.8cm around the hip socket so I am starting to feel it when I walk. Unfortunately I have bad osteoarthritis on the right hip and zero cartilage so…you know,,.got to keep strong. No desire to buy an overpriced wheelchair for Christmas. The shoulder blade one is tiny but possibly referring down my arm. I can ignore that one for now and keep benchpressing he says. And in the lung…oh my poor lung. One 2.6cm. The one on the lymph node has a mass. I thought it was just kind of ‘around’ or in my system but it is 1.1cm mass in the sub bronchial area. And there are some more nasty nodules like evil peas too.

I really helps me to visualise them and have an academic sort of discussion with the doctor as if I am looking at someone else and discussing them. I do not own these evil peas and they do not own me. But they are part of me. None of this aggressive f*** cancer stuff please. I will work with them and sing to them and soothe them and create an avenue of light by which they can exit. Bye bye. I imagine them like motes of light glowing softly as they do in the scan, capable of lifting off like tiny spaceships back into the ether from which they came. I have to keep reminding myself the prognosis is non curable but I have to believe that my mind is stronger and through a state of grace and acceptance I can glide through anything. No Drama.

I say goodbye to all the new friends I have met on the ward and wish them well and step out into the sunshine. I had no idea it was such a glorious day. In the 28 hours I was in spring has sprung. The polluted Fulham Palace Rd never smelled so sweet. I stop at the Chinese supermarket on the way home and my joy is complete.

Two days on the hormone drugs are kicking in and my state of grace is wobbling. I swing between superbitch and gracious being of light (my children would argue with this). I’ve fixed up the guitar for the elusive homeless guy Nas. It’s a beautiful if well worn Yamaha and the nice man at Gargonys music shop in South Ealing gives it a new e string, a tuning head, a case and a tune for free when I tell him the story. I love the amplification of kindness around this guitar but will it ever find its destination? I try to find Nas at the appointed hour at Ealing Broadway but he is not there. I talk to another homeless guy. They all know each others’ schedules and movements. I ask him to tell him I’ll try again on Monday. I get on the bus home after about half an hour and think I see him as it pulls away. Oh well. Next time. I feel like a bit of a fool but I want to see this promise fulfilled.

I make it into work on Thursday but fall asleep in both meetings. In one I am gently nudged by a colleague because I am snoring. I appreciate the conviviality of the office and am enjoying see the National Lab research we’ve been building towards lifting off. I also like to go to the Royal Holloway campus in Egham for the trees. A magnificent arboretum with tall ancient trees and daffodils and bluebells springing up everywhere. Once the hardcore drug regime starts it would be wiser to stay away. As my boss says ‘they like me too much to see me’. It makes me a bit sad but infection is one of those invisible dangers that is not worth it. Every time I hear someone sneeze I duck. I am far too social so this will be a challenge and I am trying to remember to mask up and return to covid protocols.

My PhD corrections were formally accepted on Friday and I was emailed confirmation of my doctoral award with a nice letter addressed to Dr Chan. I get a kick out of it every time. The absence of the ‘homework to do’ feeling is still a weird reflex. What shall I do with my time?

Saturday is my jazz performance class . I’m exhausted but it gives me energy. I take my own mic to avoid other people’s spit. I’ll sing the blues and all my troubles will float away. Sing them into submission.