Hello People
During my cancer journey there are a couple of stories of me and my ability to dance, or lack thereof. The one problem though is they happened about a year after my diagnosis and however much I'd love to throw linearity out of the metaphorical window, the little OCD in me could not possibly allow it. If I am not going to share with you my disco dancing the title seems rather odd, doesn't it? Though you'll notice it says Part 2 and as this is the second part of my blog I thought it would be quite apt, it could quite have equally been called The Godfather Part 2, or more recently Mockingjay Part 2 but then I couldn't build up the suspense for the dancing tales still to come. Now that you are on the edge of your seats, eagerly awaiting the next part of this epic tale, let me not disappoint, let us continue.
Teenagers don't get cancer? That was my mantra for the following week. I repeated it endlessly over and over, hoping that the more I uttered it, the more likely it would turn out to be true. Eventually I buckled, the pain hadn't dispersed and however much I lied to myself that my testicle was less swollen, I swear the opposite was true. I told my parents. I should probably be more specific, I told my Mother. From my understanding of the Father Son relationship, for lack of a better word it can only be described as 'banterous'. Jokes go back and forth between the two and though to a layman they may appear offensive or plain crude, as it is between family no insult is taken. Well at least that's my relationship with my father. With that in mind imagine me going to my Father and telling him about my ailing testicles. It would be like throwing gasoline on the fire, I'd never live it down. I would be consumed by the metaphorical inferno, there'd be testicles jokes at every family event till the day I die. At least that's how I saw it.
If you are a male reading this maybe you can understand the awkwardness of talking to your mother about your testicles, if you are female, though I personally have never experienced it, I can assume talking about your vagina to your father would bear similar results, or maybe its just me and my reluctance to talk about my private life/ area. Once I finally blurted out my torment and all the questions had ceased, always the voice of reason my mother called the gp and booked me in for a middle aged man to have a fondle of my jewels. Remarkably I wasn't much looking forward to scrutinizing of my scrotum and I reverted back to the earlier state of lying to myself, "I am perfectly fine". Completely off topic but I wonder if that is the most common lie ever. The fact you have to reassure yourself you are fine is proof that everything is not at all hunky dory isn't it? Either that or the word 'Okay'. How are you? Okay. When has that ever been true? I use it as short for "Really shit but I don't have the time or effort to explain why." It’s much less hassle.
Now where was I? The perusing of my privates. The day before the inspection, my lie won out, I had decided that the middle aged man could return his gloves to their holster as my testicles where off the menu, it was just a bruise. Of my understanding of the word irony, I would say this qualifies. The audience, i.e. yourself reading this now, knows that it isn't a bruise, but me, or at least me at the time of the incident did not, that's so ironic, hilariously so. Anyway I digress yet again, back to the story, I called my mother. "Yes, Mum it’s much better this week, I think it is just a bruise. I'd say we can cancel that appointment, we don't want to waste the good man's time do we? He could be saving some small children instead. THINK OF THE CHILDREN MOTHER, THE POOR INOCENT CHILDREN." Okay maybe I'm exaggerating a little bit, but you get the gist of it. More lies came flowing from my silvertongue and I convinced my Mum to cancel the probing, she promised as soon as our call terminated, the doctor would be informed that he could remove his hands from the freezer as there would be no testicular tickling for him to get up to. I would just like to take this opportunity to apologise for the synonyms I am using to describe the testicle examination, at the beginning I thought it would be a good idea, though I am beginning to regret it.
The Doctor's hands were cold. You may be wondering how I know this, as somehow even with me telling you I had cancer, my silvertongue convinced you that I was okay, I'm sorry I lied to you but I am not okay, I promise. My mother is quite forgetful but also pretty good at seeing through my tall tales and I can honestly say why the appointment was never cancelled is something I have never asked my Mother. At the time I was confused really what to feel and generally got pretty stuck between being angry at my mother for not cancelling the appointment and nervous of things yet to come and I didn't feel like interrogating it out of my Mum. Regardless of my feelings or my preconceived ideas, I ended up lied on his bed with my pants around my ankles and his hands on my testicles, but more on that later.
One thing I am struggling to work out with this blogging malarkey is how much information to dispense all at once and even which information should just be omitted. I considered skipping out on some things and just rushing to the end because yes, I understand it has taken me about two thousand words just to pass from detection to appointment but it dawned on me that I need to be a little selfish with this blog, even though one of its reason is to share my story, another equally important one is for myself. Me sharing every little detail of my experience is hopefully going to benefit me and I apologise if it becomes a little tedious but rejoice in the fact that even though you may be a little bored, I all being well, am slightly happier and carrying around a marginally smaller burden. I am a little bit of a film fanatic so yet again with I will send you off with a quote, or at least a rewording of a quote that came to me when writing this portion of my journey. "The greatest trick cancer ever pulled was convincing Callum he didn't exist."
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