Sarah-Jane has been wandering around Europe with Amanda (who performed at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival this year, wish I had known in time to go see her!) and she dropped in to see us. The visit was far too brief; we all love SJ. The children are hard to impress, but having a circus clown in the house is definitely a thrill.
We talked about the break-up of the band (very sad) and family secrets (very funny) and walked around town in the rain. We went to Kettle’s Yard and drifted down winding streets and along the Backs, meandering along looking at the city and its inhabitants.
At one point SJ turned to me and asked Are there any freaks here… at all?
I shrugged and replied Not that I’ve noticed. Or at least none with the customary cultural markers.
After she departed for Paris I went to another appointment, this one in the helpfully titled Lesion Clinic. It is now factually true that I have spent more time at Addenbrookes than I have visiting with friends.
The appointment was once again predictable, with the small and surprising twist that in the UK they call my disease after the doctor who published the first research paper on the subject. This is not accepted protocol stateside, because that doctor made a point of refusing the dubious honor.
The other and more interesting difference is that the British appear to be a modest people; my body was completely covered and the gowns and blankets were peeled back in sections as the exam progressed.
The doctor didn’t make a big fuss over the fact that my case presents a challenge. Unfortunately she was thorough enough that she actually found a suspicious lesion.
I sighed and nodded as the nurse filled out the paperwork to schedule my first British biopsy. Which will require stitches; this means that the tumor is much larger than anything I’ve had taken off in the last few years. Apparently there is a four month wait for this procedure, even (as in my case) it is certain that the lesion is cancerous.
But I am such a special and lucky creature I get to go back on Tuesday.
Evidently these procedures frighten the general population, because I was loaded up with instructions and tip sheets and it was suggested that I might need a companion with me during the operation. I just blinked and tucked the papers in my bag.
I used to have a dozen or more tumors removed in morning sessions and go back to school the same day. Losing one small piece of skin and taking myself home does not compare.
Though I will not enjoy riding the bus with a bandaged face.