…is a diffuse large B cell lymphoma… its a non Hodgkins thing and is very aggressive (I knew enough to burst into tears with relief not fear when the consultant said it’s aggressive).
I start chemotherapy on Wednesday… no doubt more on that later.
Time to fill the boy in a bit now things are starting to move and be definite… so far he knows I’m poorly… that I have a lump in my tummy and that it might need an operation or zapping with chemicals. But we hadn’t til today used the ‘C’ word.
The ‘C’ word…. so big and bad and horrid we don’t say it… like the ‘N’ word and the ‘T’ word.
Actually having typed that the C word is cunt isn’t it… and cancer the ‘big C’… or maybe I typographically implied that with my capitalisation… anyway…I’m wiffling its been a long tiring day.
Cancer is one of those words…often spoken, if at all, in a Les Dawson mouthed over the fence fashion.
So its not a word we’d used so far with the boy… far too emotive… and maybe I just wasn’t ready for whatever he’s already built up around it in his absorbant big eared 7 year old kinda way.
We filled him in that the lump I have is a common sort of lump and its totally zappable to get rid of it.. it may take a few months, I may feel crap whilst its happening, my hair would fall out and it would be brilliant if he carried on being as helpful as he’s being at present (sometimes).
And then just as he was losing interest becuase he already knew all this stuff and was reaching for the tv blipper I threw in ‘oh and its a sort of cancer’.
His mouth fell open and he did the Les Dawson thing.
Then came for a demi cuddle…. yanno… the sitting next to you leaning in becuase he’s too cool to cuddle sort.
I said he’d looked surprised when I said it was cancer… what had he expected someone with cancer to look like?….
“hmmm….” he said reaching to cop a feel of my unfevered brow…. “paler and sweatier….”.
“When your hair starts to come out… can I pull the rest out?”
“Will it grow again”
“course it will”
….and we watched the Simpsons.