Being Earnest

Today, 28 November, marks a year since the doctor called Ingrid and me into his office. We had been nervously waiting for ten days for news regarding the biopsy results. There was a lot of small talk; apparently his computer was acting up. We just wanted the news; and Philipp, who was on an out-of-town visit, was waiting for us at the hospital reception. Also, it was Friday night and we wanted to start enjoying the weekend. Eventually he got to it:

There's this terrible type of brain cancer called astro-garblegarblegarble. I was hoping that would be my diagnosis today, but I had to be sure before telling you, so I apologise for the delay. Well, it is actually not this condition. Alas, it is much worse. You have something called glio-garblegarblegarble ...

He said all this so fast that Ingrid's mind was still processing 'it is not this condition' and she thought he was delivering good news! She soon (maybe after he mentioned death from intracranial pressure just over a year down the line?) understood what he was actually saying and the shock transported her to a 'surreal parallel universe'. My heart desperately sunk. I had just known it would be bad news, but a ticking time bomb... in MY head? Fuck. I didn't know how to tell Philipp, JD, my family, my friends. To Ingrid, I just kept repeating: 'I'm sorry'. To myself I weakly whimpered 'time to get rid of the bike and get ready to die'. 

One anniversary later and the battle against 'The Terminator' continues. The bad news: we've been researching some interesting treatment options for when I finish on the chemotherapy (possibly next month), but I'm not eligible for any of them. The good news: the reason I'm not eligible is because my health seems to be so strong. Oh well, at least those treatments will still be there if and when things get worse. 

In the meantime, 'concretely’ having to stare at death in the face has had a curious effect on my mind: I feel stronger (and more alive!) than ever. To give you an example: last March I told you how I valiantly fought to cycle three laps around the local park. Today I signed up to another cycling odyssey. The aim will be to explore almost 2,000km of Alpine roads, climbing the equivalent of five Mount Everests, over ten days next June (watch this space for my classic fundraising requests!). Then I will, God willing, meet up with Ingrid and Ernesto for a glass of rosé on a balmy, French beach.

'Ernesto?' you ask.

​This is the name Ingrid and I have given to the baby boy we're expecting next February. 

Peering back through the foggy windowpane of last November, attempting climbs to the summits of the Alps and of fatherhood sounds crazy. I didn't really intend for life or this composition to set me up for such a cheesy line, but now that we're here:

'I've now realised for the first time in my life the vital importance of ...'