Thursday, 5 March, 2026
I had an oncology follow-up at 9am. It felt surreal. It had been ages since I’d had to go to the Cancer Care Clinic so early, but I got there in pretty good time. Going up in the elevator, I realised I didn’t remember what floor it was on. It’s 6? I trusted cell memory to know. The usual signing in with my health card, checking my details and giving me my armbands – the name one and the purple Risk of Fall one. I looked around at all the people who I supposed were earlier in their journey. If they had hair…
It was 9:35 or so before they called me in to get bloodwork. Once at seat 18 a nurse who I’d never met before welcomed me. Yes, I still had a port. I’d been wondering if the long three months without using it would set me back. In the beginning, it was so difficult to access. When they first insert a cannula (OK, needle!) blood should flow into the catheter. It tells them everything is OK. In my case, it rarely did, not without much “jumping” about, waving my arms, changing position, and coughing. Then one day it suddenly behaved and continued that way. Today was back to callisthenics and “cough forcefully.” Joy! The nurses cheerfully guessed on which manoeuvre had done it, while I was just grateful it had. Bloodwork and saline flushing accomplished, I could go back to the waiting room. I looked again around the big room, everything familiar in a haunting way, the nurses all bustling or in some cases, gliding about as if no time had passed at all.
It takes about 45 minutes for bloodwork to be analysed, and the doctor would see me after that. I went to the pantry for some orange juice and fresh water. There were digestive biscuits today, that’s nice.
No sooner had I reached my seat back in the waiting room than they called my name to go see my oncologist. That’s back near the pantry! I waited in exam room 2 to await the doctor’s words. I had a few questions
Dr Watson told me I’d done an amazing job for the year. Had I? (No, that wasn’t one of the questions,) I’d had some bumps in the road, but I’d made it – well done! Now I’d be seeing Dr Lim, my surgeon, and he’d pass me along to the special clinic. My mammogram was clear; they were still there for me, but they hoped I wouldn’t see them again. Amen to that. Answers to my questions – no, no need for the heart echogram since any heart damage reverses after treatment. No, I wouldn’t need the mammogram ordered for May. And no, it wasn’t unusual that I felt I’d regressed. Moving is hard. Be patient. My aches and pains? Those weren’t necessarily from the medication, but did I want to try another? I decided no. Everyone, he said, gets the pain; it’s normal. Ha, “good” to know. Goodbye and thank you, doctor.
They’d left the cannula in my port in case the doctor were to decide I needed it for something else. Like what? I was glad not to ask. Tess, the doctor’s nurse, showed up to let me know they didn’t have all the results from the blood tests yet, so sit tight. I had just under an hour to get the results, get my cannula removed, pick my drugs up from the drugstore, and make my 11:35 ride out of there. At the nurse’s station, there were two containers of cookies and a box of doughnuts all pointed towards me. Could I have one? I was met with stares. I opted for no, but noticed no one was smiling. Well, who needs the calories? Certainly not me. Yes, I made it. Print-outs secured, cannula removed, drugstore visited, drugs procured. Out!
Only after I’d left did I realise, wait! I wasn’t seeing him again. No yearly follow-ups? That wasn’t my path the last time. Well, I am seeing Dr Lim in about five weeks, and there’ll be more questions and hopefully all the answers.
I was surprised at how emotional I’d felt. In retrospect, I could have felt happy at leaving this behind, but instead I felt lonely and sad. Things flooded back to me. This part was over.
Yay me?
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