Because – right now – it’s all about the waiting.
I know I have bowel cancer. In fact I knew that right away, when in my pleasant, drug-induced haze during the colonoscopy I caught the word ‘tumour’.
What I don’t know is what else I’ve got.
My last MRI scan apparently showed up something suspicious on the liver.
Could be something, could be nothing. After all, I’ve had my gall bladder removed so it’s quite likely there are a few odd shadows in that general area. I certainly don’t propose to worry about it until I’m told I have to.
But let’s just say that the possible scenarios are now a little more troubling.
At best, there’s nothing there – and we just have Boris the Bastard of a bowel tumour to deal with. In theory at least that’s eminently treatable.
At worst there is something there, meaning that Boris has appointed a cabinet with the sole purpose of levelling down yet another of my bodily systems.
Ironically, all this comes at a time when our Combined Churches Choir is getting ready to perform a Christian musical – Roger Jones’s ‘Mary Magdalene’. In which I sing the role of Jesus. And where my most powerful number comes in his beautiful setting of the last words from the cross.
That’s happening on 23 August. Less than two weeks from now. By which time I’ll know the best. Or the worst.
And I fully intend to sing my heart out. Whatever happens.