A foggy morning partly offset having to get up early after a back shift and go on empty stomach, i.e. without my usual morning coffee. I felt feeble. (The fog then cleared and the hospital grounds looked lush and pleasant, until their serenity was undone by a TV set in the waiting room.)
The examination consisted in the doctor’s putting (several times) some lubricant on a stick and riding the latter across my neck and belly, while watching the resulting images on a computer screen. (I did take glimpse out of the corner of my eye, but it looked like so much abstract art to me.) He then claimed there were no metastases on my liver: this was good to hear until I realised this didn’t necessarily mean the liver was generally healthy. As for the lump in my throat itself, the evasive reply about having to wait for histology results sounded like the probability was about fifty per cent either way.
And then back to bed to catch some more sleep before another back shift.