Glad to be wrong


I suddenly realised today that it’s five years since I was headed to the hospital for a bone scan to see if, or how far, the recently diagnosed inflammatory breast cancer (IBC) had spread.

It had taken since the previous November to pin down the diagnosis, with a series of tests and biopsies proving uncertain until April 07 when the last test which the specialist did, saying it was just a check for something really unusual which he didn’t expect… and of course it proved to be just that. Oddly, I gather it was the second case he’d seen in a short time, and these were the only two he’d seen in his career.

What hit me again when I remembered this was the total feeling of doom with which I went to the scan, family history being against me, as I suspected, and having taken 6 months to diagnose the damned thing, I felt sure that the scan would reveal the worst. I’ve never been so pleased to be proved wrong.

I also recall the fervent vow I made to myself to make the most of what I have. 5 years on (and at the time, 5 years seemed as if it might be my allotted span if I was lucky) I’m still here, and on a grumpy day need to remind myself of that vow. It’s all too easy to slip back into taking things – and people – for granted.

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