It’s now four days since the bombshell landed in my lap, and while there is sort of folorn, background fretting over the future somewhere in my head, there is also a sense of determination and frankly strange calm.

The cancer I have is extremely rare - so rare, many doctors never see a single case of it during their careers. So rare that there is only one major web site devoted to it. It is also very persistent - it can keep coming back and coming back, even 20 years down the line.

However, it is also pretty survivable. The guy who runs the web site has had it for more than 20 years. I may not make staggeringly old bones, but chances are I’m likely to be around for some time yet.

Chances.

I’m beginning to hate chances, statistics… So far all have played me false, all’s gone about as wrong as it could do (that’s probably unfair, but fuck it, that’s how I feel), so I’m leary of holding on too hard to statistics, probabilities.

Hopefully, the radiotherapy will prove to be simply a clean-up operation - getting the few tiny cells the surgeon might just have missed. But then again, nothing in this thing has proven simple, so far.