Today was rectal ultrasound day, at last. I really am hopeless at all of it, from the 'orrible cold enema ( should have warmed it up a bit!) to the test itself. In the end the doctor had to give me Dormicum, and believe me, I was glad to slide off for a nap. It was only a bit though, I didn't need escorting home like last time, and didn't start singing sea shanties at the top of my lungs like some incidences in the past...
So, as far as they can tell before actually slicing it out, I'm T3N1. This is not wonderful, but not as bad as it could be. I've spent a while looking at survival rates, and the odds are reasonable, and getting better all the time. Neo-adjuvent therapy, which means treating with radiation and chemo before surgery, has increased survival rates at this stage quite dramatically according to some studies. Add to that my age- under 70 year old patients have better survival, and the fact that I have no underlying illnesses, and things start to look positively rosy. ( I bet I won't feel rosy for a while though!)
So now I have to wait for Wednesday, and my appointment with Professor Shpitz, the head of Surgery B Ward in Meir Hospital. He will decide what we do, and I hope very much that I will be starting treatment by the end of next week.
Meanwhile, I'll leave you with this thought; When you wake up in the morning, what are the chances you will still be alive at the end of the day? Since it is impossibly complicated to calculate every risk factor through the whole day, practically all you can say is that either you will or won't be. Ergo, 50-50. That means we all have a 50% chance of survival all the time. Ta daaaa! I'm actually beating the odds.