RIGHT, ya fucker!
 

Went for my CT Scan this evening, and got called back to see the Consultant.

I have Stage 4 Cancer in the base of my tongue, which has spread to two of the lymph nodes in my neck. He reckons combination Chemo/radio-therapy will kill the worst, with possible surgery as a back-up. Obviously, he won't know ALL there is to know til the CT results are back on Monday, but he doesn't really see much changing between now and then.

A good time to go and buy another BIG motorbike, methinks - might not get another chance!!

Buy it! ((hugs)) You'll have it paid off and ready to ride like hell by the time the chemo/radiation are done. Make cancer your bitch. If anyone can you can.

:withstupi

You didn't get stuck cancer... cancer got stuck with you, and I don't think it understands that it is now fucked.

Kick its ass, DM!

Cheers, guys!!

I guess I can always sic Lil on to it, "if the drugs don;'work........."


aaactuaalleee..........














"LILITH......... c'mere and........erm .............. well, we'll figure that out later!!"


:licker: :molest: :69: ;)

Sorry to hear of your cancer DM, but it seems that you are the sort of person that will beat it before it beats you.

Thanks darlin' - I certainly hope so!!

I know despite all the bravado you must be scared. Let us know if there is anything we can do please.

Scared is a good thing. It's the bugle that calls all the body's troops to the front line of the invader. :gb:

fuckin'A that sucks ass. (((hugs))) sending lots of good thoughts your way, dm

Well, that sucks raw moose cock.

Hey everybody - thanks so much for all your good thoughts!

Lil - I'm NOT scared...... I'm fuckin' terrified!! But I'd be properly fritted if I didn't know what was what, so I count myself lucky in that regard.

I penned a wee thing for another forum I frequent, that some of you might like; here it is.

Initial impressions were not good - several glimpses through the opening and closing door to the scanners' lair revealed a quiescent, yet somehow slightly threatening, huge, beige polo-mint, dominating the room with a quiet menace.

And so to the main event. Sliding onto the hard, leatherette bench, knots in the ties of the back-to-front hospital gown digging in to my back, venflon poking out through the skin of my arm like some kind of high-tech mole, I wait as the machine begins to beep and grunt.

Suddenly the bench moves, jerking slightly as it disappears into the bowels of the machine, carrying me with it - a reluctant passenger tonight. Back it goes, returning to it's original position to allow the very attractive young lady to appear over my head and re-adjust the venflon in my arm before, once again, the machine does it's impersonal work.

Finished now, I get up from the bench, expecting dizziness, swaying.... anything ..... but, nothing. Just an instruction to get dressed, and told to go 10 minutes later.

What an anti-climax!




Results on Monday.

DM you know you have the prayers of my wife and I and you've been added to a prayer tree at our church. If there is anything we can do for you, please let us know! I start chemo on the 24th for my colon cancer and so we're in this fight together ... and, what's more ... we're going to win the fight! ;)

DM never give up you will be in my prayers

So, the purple worm swallowed you whole, but your adventuring party was able to cut your out before you took too much damage?

You're in my thoughts & will be lifted up often as I make the mindful rounds. . . .