The first time round it was about “Getting Better” and “A Cure”. This time it’s about “Control”. Had my second opinion. So many questions. The use of unpleasant words: “Extreme. Tumours. Operation.” Sometimes I just feel so tired. So sick of all of this. This week tests my emotional reserves. The second opinion is on Wednesday. Today is Sunday. I feel ‘better’ again. I cannot control my cancer but I can control how I react to it. Repeat 100 times.
Back in Sicily it was results’ day. I went to work as ‘normal’. I worked like a dog, as normal. I’d asked Dr M to call A as I was worried about not understanding his words. So began the calls. Between every lesson I called A and it was a “Don’t worry.” And a “I haven’t heard yet. “ And a “You’ll be fine.” I’d almost convinced myself that the results would be benign. Almost. But not really.
Nerves like nylon. Nerves like steel. A day D-R-A-G-G-I-N-G to its conclusion. A day like no other. Then came the break before the last lesson. The call came. “I’m outside.” So I went outside the school and I saw A and he said, “I’m sorry. It’s cancer.” And I said, “Oh, ok, thanks.” And I went back into the school and I told everyone.
The last lesson. Personal pronouns. Listen to the song. Fill in the gaps. Play the song. Nothing compares 2 u. Nothing. Play it again. Once more. All together. Don’t cry. Not like Sinead. Keep it together. Go home. Make that call.