I got some preliminary scan results yesterday. It hasn’t been reviewed by all the experts yet but my oncologist doesn’t think from a first look that there’s been any progression since the scan 6 weeks ago. This is obviously hopeful but not clear cut. I have to wait for the complete review and report and in the meantime I’m still contending with what even just no progression means.

To be honest. Completely raw, open and honest, the appointment was awful. A real example of how sometimes doctors, and before I say this, it is absolutely not a personal attack but a raw account of how hard it is appreciate the nuances of each and every patient and what is right for them.

This stems from being told yesterday that my options are still limited to palliative chemo which over the last 6 weeks has left me broken, unable to care solo for myself, let alone my daughter and not, in my view any kind of sustainable solution.

I’m angry. I’m raging. I’m going over and over and over the words, the expressions, the movements of my appointment.

What did they mean, why did they say that, why did they not do this or that.

I thought we got each other. I thought they had more respect. I thought a little part of them understood. How can they not?

I can see them trying but they’re so far away. It’s my life they’re diminishing. Not life and death but LIFE. It’s not one or the other. Maybe for some people it is. Life at all costs. But not me.

I just can’t see it like that and I won’t give up just because they don’t know another way.

We have to find a solution that might be hard, taking mountains to move and be completely different to ‘protocol’ but we must find it. I am not protocol. I am Cordelia.