And this time ...

 it was okay. No cancer detectable, but the itch persists. Geoff has a terrible itch all over his body. He also can't raise his arms above his head without feeling dizzy, so can't put dishes away any more. He also can't of course hang washing or help much with any housework. He can watch Netflix and eat ice-cream. He can also make coffee. That's about it. 

Cancer feels like something that won't let go

uu I'm trying to think of a good metaphor for the way it seems (from the outside at least). As though you've just clonked one kind of cancer on the head and you think that's that, and then something (some creature)  holds on. Grimly. Some THING  shifts its handhold onto yet another part of the vulnerable body. (In this case, it seems that Geoff's liver is under attack. We shall see.) Like a very slow wrestling match. Over eight years, so far. Eleven. You really can't count, can you?