I was not completely shocked by the news, I had known for sometime that something was wrong; a sort of 'gut feeling' if you like.
But circumstances in my life had been pretty chaotic for quite some time and had not permitted an investigation into my 'gut feelings' - until now.
My mind had already begun to race ahead exploring the many different scenarios, until ... suddenly the Urologist was speaking again.
"... there are a number of tests we need to do right away. I'll schedule a CT scan followed by a Bone scan for early next week. We'll know more then, and can begin to develop a plan of attack."
"Doctor let me be blunt, I need to know ... should I start getting my afffairs in order? I have a daughter and two young grand children in Chile; the youngest one is only 6 weeks old and I've never seen her".
"If I were you, I would be planning to spend as much quality time with them as possible; why wait and take the chance that your health might deteriorate more rapidly then expected. I would go and see them"!
"Thankyou, I appreciate your honesty, I've got a lot to think about".
My wife and I just looked at each other - stunned! I had earlier warned her to expect bad news, but even I wasn't prepared for the prognosis:
"At best you have 3 to 5 years; at worst ... a little over 12 months!
All I heard for the next hour or so, repeated like a tape recorder resounding relentlessly in my head, was that last phrase ...
"... a little over 12 months"
It was then I realised I had a terminal illness, and fear came flooding in! As I looked at my wife while we made our way to the car, I could see that she was sobbing and shaking and the colour had drained from her face. I felt so helpless, realising that I was ONCE AGAIN the cause of her pain - only this time I could see no obvious way to make it up to her?
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