The Most Important Result

Fortunately, we didn't have to wait too long on Monday morning for the news.
Liesl was in nice and early but we didn't have much to talk about and there wasn't much on the telly.

So in comes Dr Shand. It's impossible to convey how much of an impact whatever he says in the next two minutes will have on my life. Therefore it's good that he says it quickly:
- "You've got non-hodgkin's lymphoma."
(This would normally have capital letters but I think that would show it too much respect that it doesn't deserve - sorry mr hodgkin.)

I've got non-hodgkin's lymphoma - hooray! Phew! Yippee! I think.
It seems such a relief. I don't know why because it's still cancer but somehow over those long four days, I've convinced myself that this is good cancer and I'm not so worried anymore.
Dr Shand explained that the treatment as with most cancers would be chemotherapy.
What is chemotherapy? Sounds sore. Sounds scary (told you I was a woose!). I bet you have to go into one of those tunnel things and nuclear particles will fly all around you and zap everything they don't like. Even if it's things that you like. Like your eyes and hair and insides and the digestive biscuit that you've stashed away in your jammy trooser pooch!
He also said that I would get transferred to the specialist Ward 8 and everything would be explained to me there. Just as well. Obviously.
But as this was the best news that I'd for a week I thought that I might as well start getting better.

Liesl is relieved, the Mums come in and they're relieved. I think that if we had had a bottle of Champagne, we would have opened it.
Obviously, this is strange because I've still got cancer. And at night it's still very quiet. And lonely. And scary. And dark.