The Last Thumb War

Julia Collins

The last Thumb War by Julia Collins

It was time. Time for my results. Normally after a test, I would have a fair idea of how I had done, but not on this occasion.

After eight months of chemotherapy for non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, I had had my final CT scan and an appointment had been made for me to find out what it showed. I felt okay, but then I had felt fine the days, weeks and months before I was taken into A&E with a pain in my side and a lump on my neck, not long after my twenty fifth birthday.

There's not much to do in hospital waiting rooms apart from look at the posters on the wall, read old magazines or gawp at the other people who are waiting. My husband and I ended up playing thumb wars to pass the time. I don't think that I was too nervous - no matter what the results were, it would just be a case of dealing with the next stage and whatever that would bring. I was looking forward to a time when I could go back to work on a permanent basis, eat shellfish and have my hair grow back in, but whether that would be now or sometime in the future didn't really matter: it would happen in good time.

Eventually, after having examined all the posters and magazines and lost the last thumb war, it was my turn to see the doctor. It took all of five minutes. The results had come back clear and there was no need for further treatment, just a periodic check-up. The doctor asked me if I had any questions and although I was sure I should have, I couldn't think of any. In a way, because I had been trying not to build my hopes up, I hadn't thought of how life would be for me when the chemotherapy was finished. Questions would come later.

Leaving the hospital, I was waiting for a feeling of relief or euphoria to set in. Somewhere in the back of my head I thought that really I should be jumping up and down, phoning all my friends and organising a massive party. But somehow I just didn't feel like doing that. I had to get used to the idea of life going back to how it was before cancer. It was a day of no huge celebration, no champagne, parties or banners. I suppose in a way the real celebration is every day afterwards.