At this time of the afternoon (2.15) two weeks ago, I was on the operating table. It seems like months ago now.
Things are now slightly in limbo – a sort of pause in the proceedings to get my nourishment balanced out and monitor how things in general are settling down. I had to go for a computer tomography this afternoon to check on the thorax and the throat but – most of all – to take a close look at the left lung. The results should be out by Wednesday or Thursday, at which time yet another Professor – name of Knuth (pronounced ‘Knoot’) will become involved. He’s in charge of oncology and will be here to decide on the timing and structure of the chemotherapy. It’s possible (though I’m not overly optimistic) that I could be let out of here by next weekend. I certainly hope so. Whether it’s to go home and then go on ambulatory chemo for six weeks or to go to Mammern for convalescence, it will at least be a change of scenery.
That theme got me thinking on Saturday. You hear about people being sentenced to prison for 3 months and you think that’s a really ridiculous sentence, which I suppose it is in some cases. But 3 months of being cooped up in the same cell, considerably smaller than the room I’ve got here, must be pretty awful all the same. I’ve only been here for a fortnight, with freedom to stay in my room or venture out into the grounds whenever I feel like it, yet it seems like some kind of cruel punishment.
So now it’s just a matter of waiting for things to happen. I’m not bored at all, but I’m very impatient. Time just seems to be dragging.
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