Three and a half years on

In other news, it's been about three and a half years since I finished treatment and there has been no sign of any relapse, for which I praise God! I saw my oncologist a few days ago and am now only going to have appointments every six months, which will cease if I make it to five years.

Jessica and I were reflecting again with some Australian friends who visited recently that coming to Scotland was a very effective way of "moving on" from my period with cancer. We arrived to a situation in which I was no longer being asked about my health every day and where people didn't look at me and immediately think of cancer, loved ones they'd lost, their anxieties for those still ill, and their own mortality. Although these connotations often opened up some deep conversations, it also closed down other ones. It has been nice to no longer be a walking reminder of our mortality and to be a mere mortal again.

(Now people look at me and think of birth instead of death!)

Holey moley

Although the mole turned out to be innocuous, the wound they made getting it out hasn't been. Even though it's almost five weeks since the stitches were removed, it still hasn't healed properly and it starting to become more of a problem ("disintegrating" is the term they've used). So I'm in to see the nurses every couple of days at the moment for constant wound dressing and lots of poking and prodding. They reassure me that it's not too bad, but make vague rumblings about darker possibilities ("at least it's not tracking at the moment; that would be your worst nightmare" - that kind of thing. I find it so comforting).

Anyway, for any Edinburghers who may happen to be reading this, no pats on the back please!