My ‘scanxiety’ is back. It manifests in clenched mouth, shallow breathing, and nauseated stomach.

Today, I return to the CT donut and the awful litre of contrast drink. Wondering if it will be aniseed flavoured this time?

The ‘what if’ thoughts are frequent and my adrenal glands are on high alert.

I’m following through with the advice of my team, the surgeon, radiotherapist and GP and checking that things are okay with respect to some symptoms I’ve been having. Tomorrow, I will see my oncologist for a checkup and the results.

But today, I return to a frequent scenario from last year. Fasting, surrendering to technicians and their technology, laying perfectly still, listening to my heart pound, holding my breathe and waiting. Waiting and wondering.

Boarding the train, the message comes through on the loud crackled speaker. This train is cancelled and is to be replaced by coaches. The fact it is the exact coach that transported our guests to our wedding is not lost on me.

There has been an unfortunate event down the line they said.

An unfortunate event.

Murmurs amongst passengers speak with hushed syllables of a life thrown away.

I am left wondering if someone was finding it all so hard, and so unbearably painful, that they couldn’t take this thing anymore. This thing called life.

A poignant reminder.

Given I hope, and wish, and will, my own life to be a long one.

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