"Yeah. So... OK."
Pause
"We're not happy with your latest CT scan results"

SHIT!

"The scar tissue in your chest has grown a bit. I'm really sorry."
Never mind sorry; what the hell happens now.
"I'm going to go down the road of high dose chemotherapy followed by a Stem Cell Transplant. Sorry"

Veronica and I stumble from the oncologist in a state of absolute shock. This wasn't in the script. Only three months ago we were told "You're in complete 100% remission with little to no chance of
relapse!". How the hell did we get here? Today was supposed to be the day I could put the nightmare of the last 8 months behind me. What is going on?

My first thoughts are of total anger. I was supposed to undergo 4 weeks of radiotherapy after I was declared in remission but the Rads in Glasgow, in there infinite wisdom, decided I would be better of on a 'wait and see' program instead.
Aresholes.
They tried to explain to me the risk of possibly developing breathing difficulties due to the scar tissue being close to my lungs. They just wouldn't listen to what I thought was the logical point of view of "I just want rid of the bloody cancer. Please zap it"

So, after three months of bliss, of living life to the full, of enjoying being able to play with my young children again and of even being back to work full-time I now have to go back on the chemo sauce and pray that I beat this bugger again... and I will.

I manage to hold it together pretty well for a couple of hours but then I go home. I open the door and see my two young children, Erin (3) and Rebecca (1). It's then I completely lose it and pretty much breakdown for the night.

Bit of a bummer really.