I am quite keen on the idea of a quick ending. Just not yet. The idea of spending months in pain more serious than I’ve experienced so far doesn’t appeal. Admit me to hospital. Give me time to say some goodbyes. That’ll do me.
I suppose the whole process is likely to differ from that simplistic, preferred outcome. Dragging on and on doesn’t work. Neither does croaking before saying goodbyes. Both are probably more likely than my “ideal”.
Buttock pain has been a feature of my cancer. It’s there today, which is why the morbid thoughts are circulating! Not as bad as it was when I started drug one. Not as bad as it was when I ended drug one. Not restricting my movement as it did. But it’s there. Presumably a shrunken tumour waiting to return in all its evil glory when my drug fails.
It’s just that I feel I’ve still got stuff I want to do. People I want to see. Kids I want to be supportive of. And my movement this last few days has been so much freer than the period that came before. Hell, despite it being Oldham Athletic, there’s football I want to watch! It’s fun for the first time in years!
It is inevitable that I’ll worry about any and every pain. But I reckon the tumour on the pelvis is the one these fancy drugs can’t eradicate. I just hope osimertinib can keep the swine small for as long as possible. I’m happy to cheat death for a little longer yet.