Completely expected to be posting something along the lines of 'the tumour has shrunk a bit, but Lauriel will require surgery'...

But she won't be having surgery.


Or, as the report states:

There is no endoscopic evidence of tumour in the rectum.

We are both still in shock - good shock. I don't think either of us believed this would be the outcome of the sigmoidoscopy. In an ideal world it would be the result we'd get, but we knew a 15% chance was low and I think we'd both have been happy just to hear the tumour had shrunk in size. If I am honest, I thought there was no chance of the tumour being entirely gone, so hadn't prepared for how I might feel if it had disappeared.

How did I feel? Lordy, I cried so much. And hugged my wife. And cried. And laughed. And hugged my wife more. And rang my Mum. And my cousin. And my best friend. And my sister. And I criiiiiiiied.

I don't think I'll ever forget the first words Lauriel spoke after she told me...

Do you feel like you've just woken from a nightmare?

Yes. So much yes. I even made her pinch me on our way home, in case it was a dream... the whole thing felt so surreal. Like... Lauriel had entered the day as a person with cancer. But by about 4.45pm she was suddenly a cancer survivor.

I woke up this morning and after grumpily putting my alarm on snooze, my eyes shot wide open and a grin came to my face, when I remembered my wife no longer has cancer.

She doesn't have the official all clear yet - but after her MRI on the 19th - and an appointment with the surgeon soon after, we will have the official word.

What happens now? After she gets the official all clear, she will have regular surveillance to make sure the cancer doesn't come back, and we think this will consist of a sigmoidoscopy every six months, possibly with some sort of imaging scan, for at least 3 years.

For now, we are going out to run some errands - feeling as if we have a rainbow over us, rather than a thick, dark cloud.