Final review meeting with Mr Wilson today. He told me it had all gone as well as could be and that I was now at Base Camp. He didn’t mention the forthcoming assault on the mountain but we all knew that.

The radiotherapy machines have been erratically failing and on Friday I got 2 out of my 3 zaps in Lab 7 before it ground to a halt. Then a wait, before I got zap #3 in Lab 8. A bead of sweat dropped in case zaps #4 and #5 were about to come, but they didn’t. I give you Underworld’s “Beautiful Burnout” in grateful acknowledgement of this fact.

There is one more radiotherapy session on Monday and I finish the chemo treatments around the same time. Then we wait…

To be honest, there isn’t all that much wrong with me as I finish the treatments. I had a bit of nausea (eat ginger and/or fruit pastilles) and some tiredness. I got the symptoms of prostrate cancer as a free bonus and my arse feels like a good looking rent boy’s after a sailors’ homecoming weekend but wtf, eh?

My big issue was whether they’d do this combined bowel/liver operation (it’s called a “simultaneous resection” – easy to rap with that one). I did some google’ing to make sure that I actually wanted this, and the conclusion is that there are fewer overall complication rates and faster recovery. There is the known risk that delayed liver surgery may allow new metastases to develop. To be brutally frank the #1 benefit is that, in say a year’s time or so, I will be ready again for a second liver resection after that miniscule dot develops into something. There’s no hiding from this.

I was scared they wouldn’t raise my case at their team meetings so I had a letter written and ready to handover, which I did. I think it may sway it in favour of the simultaneous resection. If it happens, it means that the operation circa August 27th or 28th will be a 7-10 hour marathon, with a handover mid-way through to the hepatic team. They’ll cut a new incision and I’ll have two lovely big scars, one on my belly and one on my chest. I’ll have a couple of happy days on the best drugs the NHS can offer, then they’ll make me walk to the corner of the ward to get my fix (or something) a couple of times every day.

I passed some time waiting for radio looking at the hospital admission form I have to bring with me. It has a question about religion – Atheist I guess – and another one asking if I want the Chaplin to visit while I am in hospital? Wonder what sort of session we’d have if I write “atheist” and ticked yes to a visit? Then get out an egg timer and challenge ’em to a convert-the-heathen knockdown? It’s good to see that the prospect of meeting the sky pilot doesn’t make me drop to my knees and/or call in the god botherers. It’s all a big lie, people.

Tell it like it is, Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy:

Some say I’ve got devil
Some say I got angel
But I’m just this girl in trouble
I don’t think I’m in danger
No I’m not in danger
No, I know I’m not in danger

– (Some Say) I Got Devil

But you never do know though, do you though, do you? Hope Nick Cave is right.