Prior to that week I was feeling rather yucky, which was a combination of a mysterious bug mixed in with a rare occurrence in Scotland: hot sunny weather.

I was determined to shake this off in time for this scan in Edinburgh. Having already gone through two biopsies, an ultrasound, and a quick trip through the CT Scan AKA the electric doughnut, I was given an answer. The answer I was expecting, but there was a but.

There is always a but. Life would be dull without them, but it can also be ruddy annoying.

I could be stronger, but Facebook might be listening.

What was required was a PET scan. (Disclaimer: no pets were disrupted during this process) I would describe this like the CT scan with a higher volume control. And not forgetting a much more potent tracer injection, which means a more powerful hot flush.

There was a reason: the CT had found some extra things that they did not expect. There was confirmation of things in the neck, but there was a cyst in the liver and a thickening on one of the bones that is difficult to spell – in my case in usually is.

What it would confirm was the type of treatment I was going to receive. Is Frankie Boy going to become Radio Active Man? Or do I have to go through these next few months getting used to the phrase “Bald is Beautiful”

And me having spent all those months on those anti-baldness shampoos too.  C’est La Vie as the French would way.  I can think of a better word, will no doubt use that later.

That part will be confirmed this coming week. That then leads me to that “but” mentioned earlier. Remember that?

We had geared ourselves up for this scan and the impending “hot flush” on one of the hottest days of the year. Timing was never one of my strong points.

But it went as well as scans could go. And we were then heading home, ready to continue the melting session at home, getting ready for those crucial results. Then a phone call whilst on the train changed all that.

It was the hospital. The results were not fully in, but there was enough to request another scan:

“When?”

“Tonight?”

“£$%&”

I was less than an hour from home where I was informed that they had found an known mass at the bottom of my brain. Was this another link to my Lymphoma or something else more serious? Either way, it was a shock that I did not need.

The swelling on my neck was getting worse with the addition of pressure on my next that was restricting my movements even more. A feeling of panic was starting to build, not the kind of feeling you want on a train.

I was amazed that I was able to hang on to my composure during that last part of that journey. Even more so when my wife and I dumped our bags and jumped on the next bus to take the bus to a much closer hospital.

My morale had just received not just a dent in the ribs, more like a boot in the Gentleman’s Area. I cannot remember the last time I had felt this low. During the hours that followed, I had another scan, followed by an X Ray, plus numerous other blood tests   

Not forgetting late night hospital food.

All that it was at ten o’clock at night. I could not go home until the Neuro Specialists came back with what’s next. So, for the first time in 12 years, I was spending a night in a hospital.

6 hours of broken sleep later ended with a mind-numbing pre breakfast blast of thunder. I was informed that the neurosurgeons came back wanting another span- ANOTHER ONE!

I am proud to say that I have been able to cope with more tests, but getting an MRI is the most challenging. Being placed in what I can only describe as a noisy tumble dryer.  

My one saving grace was that I am not claustrophobic (thank goodness my spell check is working). But there was an extra touch: I had to wear what I could only describe as an ice hockey cage mask. A new experience,

I had to make sure that my nose was in the right place before they wheeled me in. And another tracer injection.

That was 1pm on the Friday. I just had to wait till the brains department contacted their blood counterparts to decide what was next on the agenda? Will I actually get home?

Do I need to get more checks? Do they know something I don’t? I so much want my own bed. Even though there is the prospect of enduring  the additional suffering of watching the Scotland v Brazil game? After those last 48 hours, I can handle anything.

It has been a while since I last went down the football predictor route, but it does not take much thought process to determine what the result is going to be.

I think it is time to get the World Cup Plan ready.

VAMOS Espana !