Dear all, as promised, here is a quick update. Quick, because there isn’t a huge deal to update.
Anna and I went to see Mr Khoubehi this afternoon. He was pleased by how quickly and well his cutting is healing, pronounced what he accomplished inside as a success and reassured me that on-going tiredness, itchy stomach etc is all par for the course this soon after major open surgery.
On the other hand, histology of the dratted kidney confirms that I have Grade 4 Cancer, the most aggressive kind (this is relative, however, because Grade 4 kc is not as aggressive as G4 lung cancer would be.) Given we knew of its migration to the lymph glands and each lung, this wasn’t a great surprise, though of course one hopes for something lesser.
So there is little to add until next Monday 22nd when we have the first meeting with the oncologist. We should then have a clearer idea of when the next, all-important, CT scan is going to be (it’s apparently too soon after the operation to do one for the moment.) In turn, we should also have a better idea of if and when the ‘biological therapies’ will commence. My sense is there won’t be any very concrete news for a few weeks more since it is apparently unlikely that I’ll start ‘biots’ unless and until it’s been established that the lungs lesions have grown etc.
Morale continues good and I am getting to spend lots of time with family and friends. People comment that I look well, even tanned – the result, no doubt, of exposing the scars to the 2 hours uv radiation we have had since June 01. Brother Ames and I had a lovely 4-day break in Broadstairs, courtesy of Pia, who lent us her cottage. Ames took the opportunity to pen further scurrilous tales of his sibling’s quirks and eccentricities. Fortunately I control what goes on this blog. There is a fab Grayson Perry show on at the Turner Gallery in Margate, well worth a day-trip down from London if you like his stuff or are interested in ‘Englishness’ – a moot subject in UKIP-land! I also sat in the very shelter where Eliot composed the first lines of what became the ‘Fire Sermon’ section of The Waste Land (On Margate Sands / I can connect / Nothing with Nothing.’ A perfect riposte to King Lear’s claim that: ‘Nothing will come of Nothing.’ (not sure if I’ve rendered the caps correctly, but this isn’t going to be marked).
It’s just great to be catching up with friends again. One or two at a time is all I can manage for the moment, but I’d love to see one and all if you can give me a little notice of when / if you want to come. I can happily manage lunch / tea out round Clapham Junction; and tomorrow will be having my first evening out in more than 5 weeks at a preview at Shoreditch Town Hall which I am really looking forward to.
Finally some good news, too, about my memoir. It’s been short-listed for the PEN prize for autobiography / memoir. See, if interested,
That’s all for now, folks. Next Monday I hope to report not only on the next medical meeting, but Maddy’s birthday party this coming Saturday. She is very excited about becoming the same age as her daddy – four (see earlier post!). And she has begun to show an amazing capacity for tact. When Anna asked her recently if she (Anna) was getting bigger because of Luke, Maddy responded: ‘Don’t worry, Mummy, your head is the same size as before.’ 🙂