The Lack of Straight Dope

Very little to report, actually. My father had shortness of breath yesterday, relating to his chemo, and my mother flipped out and called every doctor in the world.

He's actually feeling surprisingly good, which is good, although I don't know how crappy he is supposed to feel after the chemo.

Remember that PET scan that he had done? Within all the excitement, I never asked how it went. So my brother tells me that the spot on my dad's liver does not register as cancer, which doesn't mean that it isn't. All it means is that it doesn't register. My parents are still convinced it is a fat deposit, and the race is now on to find a scan from 2003 that has it on it to prove the fact.

The jist is this: If, after the chemo, the spot stays exactly how it is, then it's a fat deposit. If it disappears, then it was cancer, but the chemo destroyed it. If it shrinks, but does not go away, then we have issues. In any case, we won't know until my father finishes chemo in mid-november and goes back for restesting.

In other news, I tried to book in for a PAP smear test yesterday (better safe than sorry), and got told that I have to figure out when my next period is and make an appointment for a week after that. What?! I might not be in the country, I have no idea when my period is and I can't think that far ahead! Oh well, when I have it I will try to figure out where I will be and take it from there. I am pretty sure that I can find a Ob/Gyn in Israel to check me. Although I do seem to have made an appointment to have a flu jab. Which I don't want. So I am an idiot who is seduced by advertising, especially if it comes in the form of a letter which says, "HAVE THIS NOW!"Silly me.

Being back in London is, overall, lovely. Closed the show last night and was really sad about it, even though the last few weeks with it have been hellish because of the theatre. I am also planning to see lots and lots of friends before I bugger off back to Israel, so please, if you want to see me and are in the UK, drop me a line. Seeing my friends is lovely and makes the world seem like a better place. I am keen on this illusion, so I will keep up with it. It's doctors that I wish would tell me something straight.

Basically, I am struggling with hope right now. Hope seems to be messing me around, and I am not impressed with it. People are so intent on giving me Hope that I feel like I am being lied to. I want to believe that my father will be absolutely fine like everyone else seems to, but if he isn't, I really need to know, because preparations must be made. Financial, legal, emotional. If this is goodbye, I can't have Hope standing in the doorway, barring my path. Because I think that there are many more important things, if things are really bad. "But they're not", the well-meaning bystanders are going to say. Well, if I don't know that, how the hell does anyone else? Not that I am angry. I am simply frustrated by being given what is potentially an illusion. It's fine for when you need to be strong and when you need to put on a brave face. But when that face is the only option you are being given because the doctors are trying to spare you the grief, I worry. In short, I want to have the choice. I want to be able to choose whether to cry or laugh, fight or grieve, support others or myself.

So, a request to the doctors in the ether: Give it to me straight. Because the truth will out, eventually, and I want to be able to say that I chose what to do with it.

Having one's head in the sand may be the superior option to having it sliced off by a passing shit-conducive fan

So I am preparing to leave Israel and go back to London.

There is a fair amount of confusion between my parents about whether I am or am not insured in the States and whether, if the genetic testing comes back positive, I need to be tested at MD Anderson. So, I am potentially facing the prospect of having to decide whether to head to Houston every x months to be poked by American doctors, or whether it would be sufficient to do it in London (or wherever). I think I am arguing that if a doctor knows what they are looking for, then where the test is done becomes irrelevant. But my father swears differently, and says that his tests back in June say, in big letters on them "Patient wanted to know he was clear for cancer. And he is". Sadly, this turned out to be bullshit.

Anyhoos, enough about me. My dad starts chemo in about 6 hours (7am Houston time). I am pretty sure he is terrified, although he talks a lot of fighting talk on the phone. My mother says that I should stay in London for a little while longer than I first thought, as I can be the most use just after his chemo, when he is feeling shitty. He is supposed to be treated every two weeks. Clearly, though, the Israelis are not going to be treating him on a Saturday, so I am thinking his next treatment will be on Sunday 18th (which is a weekday. Don't ask). So I will kick around in London and hope for the best until then.

Funny thing is, I haven't heard from my brothers. I hope they are ok. If they read this, perchance, maybe they would like to give me a call? I miss them.

To sum up, I am still on the short-list for cancer of the everything and going home to think about my dad in peace. My mother finally agrees with us that, if it is the case that he is not going to be with us for all that long, he wants me with him. My dad and I just gave her the you-finally-got-with-the-programme look.

Oooh, oooh. Before I go, a list of lovely screening options for the various forms of cancer:

- Breat Cancer: Mammogram
- Ovarian: Pelvic Exam (which doesn't really tell anyone anything), Transvaginal ultrasound (which is not nice), CA-125 Assay (hoorah for blood tests)
- Pancreatic: Currently no standard screening exists although they are recommending Endoscopic Ultrasound coupled with Endoscopic retrograde cholangiopancreatography (ERCP) (tubes down my throat. Yummy).

Is it just me, or is cancer starting to sound good?