by Reg Green
Twenty years ago, I was diagnosed with cancer of the vocal cords.
“Don’t worry,” they told me. “What you’ve got is more like skin cancer, not life threatening.”
Thus reassured, I felt I didn’t need to start the radiation treatment immediately and, having a full calendar of travel, kept turning down proposed dates.
At last the doctor said, “You’re a busy man, Mr. Green. You don’t seem to have time for cancer.”
I’m sure it’s a line they teach in radiotherapy school but it made me laugh.
I’m happy to say the radiation worked but now I’m faced with another dilemma: like all aged folks my bones are brittle and, after I tripped some months ago and broke an ankle, I’m restless that it’s taking so long to heal. I can’t drive and it’s a wearisome process arranging physiotherapy sessions so as to disrupt the household routine as little as possible.
But what can you do? You can’t tell them you don’t have time to grow old.