Variations on a theme

Time seems to be elastic, doesn't it? I've noticed this more and more often recently. The time between my diagnosis and surgery was six days. It felt more like six years. My radiotherapy treatment lasted for twenty-two working days - just over four weeks. Those four weeks dragged past. Every morning, I drove to the hospital in the city, dodging the rush hour traffic. An hour later, I drove home again. My life really was 'on hold'.

Once that was finished, I waited for the letter to arrive telling me when my first check-up would be. That seemed to drop into my mailbox before I'd even blinked (or maybe I did blink, and that's when it happened). And then, the countdown to that first check-up; at first, nine and half weeks seemed like such a long time, and then, suddenly it was, "This time next week, I'll find out if I need more treatment". Those last seven days slowed down to the usual crawl; by the time the appointment came round, I was counting the seconds.

Since then, time has flown past, and it's now just over three weeks since that visit to the hospital. That means I'm three weeks nearer to the next appointment. At what point will the countdown for that one begin?

Remember how you laughed scornfully when your grandparents and then your parents told you that life is short? They were right you know, in a way. It's short when it's going well, drags when you're waiting for health news and over before you've even had time to think about what you want to do with it.

Being told you have cancer - or any other life-threatening illness - encourages you to review your life and readjust. Though it's tempting to fall back into your previous patterns when the news is good, I've learned that that the threshold into eternity really isn't that far away/ Since I've been given another chance - for now - so, returning to a recurrent theme in this blog, I'm going to make the most of every second (and try to ignore the ever-present shadow of the hospital appointment).