Cardinals and cancer are an odd match; let's hope I'm as victorious as the Redbirds

In 2006, I had breast cancer, and the Cardinals won the World Series. In 2011, the Cardinals returned to the championship, and my cancer came back.

I do hope they're not related. It could kill my love of my home team.

The cancer showed up in my annual ultrasound on October 11th. A tiny dark streak on the screen. "It could just be scar tissue, but it wasn't there last year, so we want to be extra careful," said the doctor doing the scan. "We're going to do a biopsy." In that moment, five years fell away as I remembered, vividly, the pain of the first one. The guys at Guantanamo Bay had it all wrong. Forget waterboarding. Biopsy a bit of breast tissue and people will tell you anything. No question of refusing, however. The results are more important than the pain.

Sure enough, a new cancer in the same breast as 2006. Strange, as I'd had a total mastectomy so there shouldn't be any breast tissue left in there. Post surgery, tests proved it to be lymphatic tissue, though all lymph nodes tested were clear. Which means I'm destined for a winter of chemotherapy, once I heal from the operation. I had the surgery on the 27th, just 13 days after the biopsy results confirmed there was something in there that needed to come out.

A routine operation, a small cancer found early, a positive prognosis. Add all those things together and it still doesn't take away the anxiety. Especially for poor Piers, who could only watch from the sidelines and have all the stress of dealing with this the first time around.

We spent the night before surgery in town, since my 6am check in time made it impossible to come up from Basingstoke. We tried to make a celebratory evening of it. An indulgent dinner at Orrery with the tasting menu and the wine flight. Should anything have gone wrong on the operating table, it would have made a fine last meal. Traditional French with modern twists, a progression of small, delicate plates, that exceptional cheese trolley and a satisfying chocolate tart. Still on the same form as previous visits (see 10.12.07), reminiscent in quality and price to Roussillon, though not quite as elegant and innovative, with a far less intimate dining space. A good option for fine dining in that part of town.

We then retired to Hotel La Place on Nottingham Place. (The club, sadly, had no rooms available.) A Victorian townhouse remodeled as a small B&B, going for the upscale boutique hotel category. The room was lovely, with traditional dark wood furniture, beautiful upholstery and a crown-style canopy with falling drapes above the bed. All very English country house transported to the city. The public areas were a bit pokey and Piers reported an unimpressive breakfast (consumed while I was under the knife). For general London tourism, I'm sure you could do better for your £180 a night, though the room was admirably large for a centrally-located hotel. But for our primary objective ... be able to walk quickly to the Harley Street Clinic ... it was a decent option.

So the surgery went well. The doctor got the entire cancerous spot out without having to disturb my breast implant, so no major follow up work will be needed there. Floating on anesthetic and pain killers, I slept for most of the day. Wide awake, then, for most of the night. Just in time for Game 6 of the World Series. Without doubt, the single most exciting game of my life. Any baseball fan will already know the story. Texas led the series three games to two. A win that night locked their first-ever championship. (The Cards were playing for their 11th.) The Cardinals had already come from behind to tie or lead the game three times, but they entered the 9th inning down by two. And were still there as they got to their last out. When local boy David Freese drove in two runs, tied the game and sent it into extra innings.

In the 10th, the Rangers quickly put two runs on the board. I could hear the groans all the way across the Atlantic. Could we come back from behind for a fifth time in the same game? Yup. Again down to their last out, Berkman hit the tying run, forcing the 11th inning. This time, the Cardinals held the Rangers scoreless, then Freese returned to the plate and hit a leadoff home run. This was, frankly, as good as a Hollywood screenplay. Even if I was experiencing the game in the oddest of ways.

The first five innings streamed onto my iPad via MLB.com with no problem. Then the hospital WiFi went down. Really, there's not much you can do about that at 3am. The night nurses can handle any crisis of the human body, but network issues had to wait for the day staff. I tried a few options on my iPhone, with no luck, and ended up following the rest of the game through text messages from the Bruneel household in St. Louis. (I watched the game the next day when I returned home.) Despite the bizarre relay reportage, despite sitting alone in a dark hospital room, the game filled me with joy. And a very pleasant distraction from the medical situation.

Back home the next night, the joy returned. Still on an irregular sleeping pattern, I slipped downstairs to the couch from 1am to watch Game 7. Not nearly as exciting as No 6, thank heavens. The Cards had a job to do; they went out and did it. I think the previous night had ripped the heart out of the Rangers, frankly.

There was much joy in St. Louis, and for St. Louisans around the globe. Good thing, too. Because as those anesthetics wore off, I realised just how much even a small incision can hurt. I was very happy for the distraction. And I hope my beloved Redbirds can do it again soon. But please, let me be cancer-free next time.