It’s 2:30am on a Sunday. Most people would be sleeping, but sleep does not come easy to me.
On Friday morning, after much procrastination, I decided to visit my GP. Mainly to find out the results of my blood tests (which were done at the end of June!). I’ve been feeling quite good of late. The COPD I suffer from has been more manageable; I don’t think I’m snoring as much, and even my back issues have been easier to deal with.
First thing on my ‘list’ was, of course, the blood test results. ‘Dr Steve’ reported to me the results and all seemed well. However, I sensed there was a ‘but’ coming, and I was right.
As one who has had cancer, blood tests always include for cancer/tumor ‘markers’. Not necessarily indicative of a recurrence of cancer (they can ‘flag’ non-cancerous tumors), but if the readings show an elevation, it requires further investigation. Mine were elevated, and had been since even the previous blood test. My immediate thought was ‘Oh, f*** !’.
Another blood test was carried out on Friday, and I had an appointment to see the GP the following Tuesday for the results. Should they continue to show an increase, more tests will inevitably ensue.
Now, I’m not an alarmist. I deal with issues as they present themselves. But, I have to say, it’s been difficult not to feel some apprehension. In the past 10 years I’ve had two diagnoses of breast cancer, a benign tumor on my parotid gland, a broken ankle, a COPD exacerbation … Lordy be, what a bloody crock! Unfortunately, getting older does that to you.
On the up side, I love my life. I know myself, I like the person I am. I’m to become a grandmother again in February 2020, and an early demise is not on my register of ‘things to do’. But, I (and nor does anyone) has little choice in that matter, do I?
Like many of us within the community of 60-somethings, I’ll just ‘keep on trucking’, taking each day as it comes and hoping for the best.