Yesterday I went to see the doctor in order to have someone qualified look at my eye. Nothing serious this time; just a minor infection, either because the time of the year means there's a lot of stuff in the air or because I poked my finger at my eye one too many times. Besides, with all the things we've been going through this year, we crossed the Medicare safety net threshold - which means that doctor visits hardly cost us anything until the end of the year. Which shows the stupidity of this safety net in that it encourages people to waste doctor visits and, more importantly, encourages doctors to charge more per visit. But then again, sense was never a part of the Howard government's agenda.
Anyway, out of curiosity I asked my doctor whether he has been updated by the specialist who operated me about my situation. He had a look at his records and found only one letter, sent on 11/9.
Now, for those who don't know, 11/9 does not only mark the date in which my favorite two towers came crashing down. It also marks the date of my operation. Apparently, the doctor who operated on me sent out this letter immediately after my operation.
And the point of this story and the reason why I'm wasting your time on it is that in this nice letter, the surgeon says pretty clearly that I have cancer. On that day he told Jo that things didn't look good and that the tissue he removed looked pretty bad and abnormal, but off the record and in a letter we never got to see it was cancer.
Happily enough for me the surgeon turned out to be wrong; but it still shows the very slight difference between a relatively positive outcome and a very negative one. Not that living without an organ can be declared to be a positive outcome (just thought I'd say that, in case people start telling me that I should praise the lord for sparing me the cancer).
The funniest thing was the way the doctor looked at me after we both read the letter: It was as if he was looking at a ghost. I spared him and told him it's not up to date.
But I still wonder whether, in some parallel world, a different version of me is going through radiotherapy instead of wasting his time blogging.