Midsummer

The longest day of the year. Literally. Metaphorically, the longest day for me was the day of my first post-treatment check-up. How the time dragged that day. No doubt it will be the same for the next check-up. The clinic is held in the afternoon, so there's an entire morning to fret through. Then, the short time waiting to be seen, once you get to the hospital, creeps past. The consultation itself is over and gone in an instant; then, a few days later, you get a copy of the letter sent to your doctor. In my case, full of slight errors and the discussion not reported in the way I remembered it. My recollection was that I followed up on things I had been told at the end of treatment - "If you're sensible, we may not have to see you every three months..." My question, "What do you mean, 'If you're sensible'...". The agreement was that if things are still fine in August, then I may not need to go back until December or January. The letter reports that I said I'd prefer longer intervals between appointments. Well, I would - but that's not what I said! Somehow, the responsibility has moved from being one that was jointly agreed to being mine alone. So, here, I'm recording, in writing(!), that this was not a decision I arrived at on my own.

And the errors? Mainly incorrect reporting of the staging of my cancer. A conversation I'd had before with the same staff member who is determined that it was further developed than the consultant - and histology - reported. Over and over again, I've pointed out that it was stage 1(b), but that it was treated as stage 1(c) because of possible venous invasion. Over and over again, the response has been the same, "Oh, yes, that's what it says in your notes. Sorry, I read it wrong." And over and over again, the reference is to stage 1(c)... I've got to the point where I don't think it's worth arguing about any more - but it really worries me that the error is repeated every time. What if it were something very important - like which leg to amputate or which kidney to remove?

Anyway, once the letter comes, that's it. You wait for your next appointment. At first, twelve weeks feels like a very long time, and the relief carries you through the first few weeks. By Week 4, though, the anxiety begins to build. Your life is governed by that appointment. The countdown starts early. Eight weeks to go till that next longest day.