Unfortunately, on waking the next morning, I didn't Bobby Ewing the whole thing and it was all horribly real, and I had to decide on what to do. First port of call was to go and see my GP and get his advice and opinion. Barely holding it together in his surgery, we went through the situation, and he recommended looking for treatment at MD Anderson in Houston, and spoke about another patient, who presented similar to me, and had followed a course of treatment there. Gladly not being an expert on cancer facilities, it seemed like a sensible course of action.
I spent the rest of the day trying to busy myself with various tasks and errands. Stopping at various points as I lost it to varying degrees. I quickly reached the stage that I was no bothered about crying in front of friends, family, co-workers, or complete strangers.
We had a dinner arranged that evening, and made the decision to go ahead with the plans, just to bring some normalcy to life. It proved to be the right choice: we had a fabulous time, and for a couple of hours put it all to one side, sort of.
That same night I got another email from my surgeon, confirming his agreement with my GP's assessment on the next steps, and for the first time in 24 hours, we seemed to have a plan forming.
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