Wine (or Whine)

Yesterday was Meet Dr Chernobyl Day.

He was actually lovely but I think the name has stuck for me.

Anyway, we discussed scans and options and treatments and prognoses and all of the stuff you never want to have to talk about. Stage 3C. Chemo is only moderately effective for ovarian cancer. If the chemo works I may have years. If not, maybe months.

We asked (well mostly me) billions of questions, all of which he answered patiently and caringly but also honestly. Side effects of chemo? Maybe few, maybe lots, depends on the person. What if I don’t have chemo? Quality of life may be ok or it may be awful as the chemo can limit the effects of the disease even if it doesn’t stop it. If it was his wife, what would he recommend? Chemo.

And then came the BIG question. The HUGE one. The central one even. Actually it came out as less of a question and more of a whine.

“Can I drink wine while I’m on chemo?”

Dr Chernobyl gave a small guffaw and his eyes squinted up in laugh lines.

“It’s mandatory!”

I start chemo in four days.

P.S. Don’t worry, I will drink responsibly. But a gal’s still gotta have a life!