David and I returned to Spain yesterday to check in with the old folks and spend some more quality time with them.
It’s strange as just one year ago to the day we were actually spending time with them in England, having a meander through the beautiful Wollaton Park over the Easter weekend. At that stage though, none of us were aware of the war that was starting to form in my Dad’s body.
Back to the present day and having arrived quite late last night we had a brief catch up before all retiring to bed. We had probably put too much onus on today but I guess this can’t be helped. Today was, after all, the day my Dad was due to have his long awaited CAT Scan in order to ascertain exactly where he was in his battle against Stage 4 Lung Cancer.
Waiting at the hospital felt a little strange. There were different coloured doors everywhere, all with radiation warning signs on and all for different types of cancer. The basement level 1 patient waiting area felt dark and dingy and not a happy place to be. We were all sat quite near the door that my Dad would be going through for his scan, a scan that would last no more than 10 minutes.
This particular door was not brightly coloured and was labelled with the abbreviation: ‘TAC’. It took us a while to fathom exactly what this sign meant though ironically reverse the letters and you get ‘CAT’ (Computerized Axial Tomography) or in Spanish – Tomografía Axial Computarizada. Pretty obvious when you see it lol.
The CAT scan itself makes use of computer-processed combinations of X-Ray images, all taken at different angles, so to produce cross sectional (tomographic) images of specific areas of the body. In my Dads case this is to review the cancer in his lungs and any spread that may have occurred to the brain.
Dad is a fighter, and although you can tell he is worried, he continues to put a brave face on it. I guess the thing is, there is bugger all we can do at this stage as the result will be whatever it is.
It’s odd, the last year I have seen and been witness to many things in my family. Things like this can cause close knit relations to go one of many ways. For me and my immediate family it has bonded us together like never before. Cancer is a killer, pure and simple. Cancer doesn’t care if you are black or white, male or female, gay or straight, young or old. When it looks to stake a claim on you, it can and more often than not does have devastating consequences. Cancer tries to suck the heart from a person and slowly reduce them to nothing until it claims its prize; the ultimate mood-hoover. But I can tell you now no matter what, my Dad is a winner and isn’t letting this beat him. No matter if he has 1 week or 10 years left in him, he continues to battle on in the best way he can. His spirit is incredible and despite several knock-backs, he carries on moving forward and living for the here and now.
The CAT scan results appointment is scheduled for April 11th. I’m very much of the mind that no matter the result, my Dad and our family as well as all of his amazing friends will keep on moving forward, together, in the best way we can. As soon as I know the results I will provide a further update.
On a personal note and just to have it published – even though my Dad is a winner – he did however along with Alan manage to lose in an important event this morning – The inaugural ‘Plaza Mayor’ Table Football match against David and I. A score of 5-2 in steady weather conditions saw us take the crown and ultimately win the championship – a re-match has been scheduled for next year…..