The haematology department kept us waiting three hours today before I was called in for my meeting. And it was a big meeting: the official results of my biopsy after my chemotherapy treatment. Sure, last week the news was good. But I was still nervous and after three hours, I was near breakdown by the time my name was hollered out.
The first thing I said when I sat down for the meeting – after we demanded to know why we’d been held up – was, “I don’t think I can have this meeting. I’m so wound up.”
“But, the results were very good. You are in remission,” the doctor said back.
It was hard to leave at that point.
He used the words “exceptional” and “extremely good results” to describe my response to the chemotherapy. Let me tell you, if you have no experience of doctors, they don’t talk like this unless it is the truth. Doctors are nothing if not starkly honest.
In the meantime, I heard “remission” and let out three hours worth of deep breaths. I grabbed a tissue. But, I didn’t feel anything like elation until hours later, once it had sunk in. And, it sunk in properly when I saw my daughter and considered for the first time that I may have many years left, a full and long life to share with her. Today is the first time I’ve allowed myself to think like that.