The rollercoaster of scan results week

This week Lisa and myself travelled to Burton hospital for my scan results.

The third 'staging' CT scan I've had since my diagnosis, I'm learning that these probably create the most unspoken anxiety of the cancer experience so far. The findings of my first scan, last summer, were largely positive but my second scan in the autumn revealed the cancer had become 'progressive' as it had slightly grown in several areas. There's also the reality that at some point the three-monthly scans may show the cancer has silently spread to new parts of my body including my main organs.

The friendly oncology registrar's first words as we sat down with her on Wednesday were that she had "mixed" news. However, as she went through the results, this felt more like 'good' mixed than 'bad' mixed. Although the cancer has continued to grow slightly (by 3mm) in my adrenal glands, it had decreased by a full centimetre in one of my (iliac) lymph nodes and has also decreased slightly in the main tumour in my bowel (the first time this has been reported). The lesions in my bones remain stable and there are no new areas of cancer. This all means, we were told, the cancer is no longer in a 'progressive' state but is best described as being 'under control'. So, the chemotherapy treatment I've been on since November is doing its job and will continue with my next fortnightly infusion tomorrow which, amazingly, is cycle number 20.

As we we walked out of the hospital past the ever-present fruit and veg stall near its entrance, I felt the lightest and most hopeful I have for a long time. I didn't say anything to Lisa until I'd heard her feelings, as sometimes we leave these appointments with different 'takeaways'. But she felt it was positive too.

This was reinforced as we relayed the news to family and friends and began to plan for a holiday to celebrate Lisa and my 50th birthdays this year. We'd put this on hold until we knew the scan results which will affect what holiday insurance I can get, and how much the insurance will cost. Thankfully, it looks like this will not be prohibitive.

So after an uplifting couple of days, why was it that by late morning on Friday, less than 48 hours after the oncology appointment, I felt depressed? There were a few small things that may've triggered negative feelings (like a slightly botched Vinted vinyl LP purchase), but nothing out of the ordinary. I just felt overwhelmed and deflated.

Two days later, with a small amount of perspective, I guess my feelings were a natural hangover from the good stuff that has happened this week. Repeatedly relaying the details of my scan results to people eventually left me with a nagging sense that I was conning them and myself a bit, as I still have incurable cancer. The results aren't the first step on the road to recovery because there is no hope of recovery, at least as things stand medically. This reality, which I obviously didn't need to spell out in the conversations, felt a bit like putting lipstick on a pig.

This nagged at me as I walked to meet a friend for lunch on Friday while listening to the latest podcast from US author Rob Bell. He outlined how feeling a sense of unexplained malaise at times is totally natural, especially at this time of year. It may be that we have ungrieved grief (tick!), including the fact that we miss the person we were months or years ago (tick!). This is all a part of a natural "rewiring" that we have to go through from time to time to be able to grow into new things. And at these times it's ok not to always "give 100 per cent" - maybe surviving on 60 or 70 per cent effort is enough for a period. Bell didn't mention cancer once but he didn't have to. It was just what I needed to hear.

So, with the beautiful winter sun glaring through the window as I type, here are a few other memorable (for me at least!) things that have happened this week:

• As we sat in the hospital awaiting the results, I helped a distressed old man put his shoe back on after it fell off while he sat on his mobility scooter. It reminded me of wrestling the kids' footwear on when they were toddlers and we were trying to leave the house in a hurry.

• I managed to drop my Baldi mug on my already swollen and painful big toe (it's a chemo thing!) in the kitchen, the handle smashing off. I couldn't bring myself to bin the mug so put it on the side. Two days later it appeared fixed back together. Macy had bought some super-glue and done the repair job (pictured above) without me or Lisa knowing ;)

• Walking past a house on a busy road while listening to the podcast above, I spotted a dog on the drive with the gate open. I went into the house and told the dog's thankful owner who thought he'd shut the electric gate. The dog was safe.

• I managed to review the new, excellent Grandaddy album.

• Dan's girlfriend Georgia cooked us some lovely chicken and halloumi kebabs for tea on Thursday.

• I helped a man send his first ever package via the local InPost lockers. He'd started walking away after being blinded by the science but I talked him through the process and off his box of work-boots went!

• It's been a great week socially. Lisa had a few days off work so we could enjoy some time together and I also caught up with several people, including a Facetime chat we both had with our traveling friends Mike and Helen in Guatemala.

• I enjoyed a lovely, slow five-mile run (pictured below) yesterday morning through frost, mud and puddles, illuminated by bright sun along the local McLean Way, despite my red toe!

So, yes, it's been a good week. And the tough stuff we're still working and walking through does not gloss over or diminish the goodness. Thanks, as ever, for your encouragement and support through the things we miss and the news we celebrate. It all counts.