In 2016 an estimated 130,000 Australians will be diagnosed with cancer. Last Friday I became one of them when I was told I had cancer of the bladder.
Four days earlier I had a cystoscopy and the peanut-sized mutation cut out of me turned out to be a grade three carcinoma. Aggressive? A grade three is the soccer hooligan of carcinomas. It will cross the street to go you or more properly, gnaw away at a cellular level and left unchecked enter the vascular or endocrinal systems and wreak havoc wherever it goes.
My urologist, a lovely man and his nurse, a rather brilliant woman who is a cancer survivor of some 14 years, gave me the news. I was doing my best to appear stoic but the downcast look and ashen face gave the game away. I was in a state of shock of course. They gave me the best advice one can get in that situation. Take your time. Take some deep breaths. Leave your phone go to message bank and go tell your loved ones face to face.
Full column here.
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