Tuesday, 9 October 2012
Pause for a minute to consider, if you
will, what this waiting game actually feels like. So far after
every test I have had bad results. When I went to the GP with a small
lump she sent me to hospital. I had to wait for nearly two weeks for
my appointment knowing there was a small chance I could have breast
cancer. When I went for my hospital appointment I had bad results
from my examination and was sent for an ultrasound, It was obvious
that the results from that were bad as I was sent straight in for a
mammogram, that too was obviously bad so I was sent for two biopsies.
Then ten days of waiting, knowing the whole time that the chances of
not having breast cancer were getting slimmer.
My diagnosis appointment was obviously bad news. Then I had to wait for the MRI scan. That was really bad news, then I had to wait for surgery. After surgery I had more bad news - each time the cancer was bigger than was expected or had spread further.
In the last week I have had my blood taken to be scanned for cancer in my blood, last Friday I had a full body CT scan looking for tumours in my organs and yesterday I had a bone scan to see if there is cancer in my bones. Tomorrow I hope to have the results for all these scans. This fear is hard to explain, terror conjures up images of ghosts and ghouls, or for a parent it signifies child molesters or abductors. terror is a sharp fear, breath stealing and knee trembling. Fear is an understatement. To say that I am scared does not do justice to the constant ache in the pit of my stomach. If I stop for a moment to indulge the ache or even consider it, I am left swallowing tears of despair. My temper is short and my patience is thin.
To distract myself from this internal horror I am keeping busy, it's what I do best. Husband is working today so I took on the full Mummy role and took my first solo drive to school and back. I smiled at everyone and even received a few back. I took each child all the way to their classrooms, enjoying the process of hanging coats, filling lockers and preparations. I have stripped the beds, unpacked the shopping and done two loads of washing. I'm writing this then calling to chase my insurance money, going for a walk with Dad, cooking lunch, helping him fill in forms, collecting the kids, cooking supper....bath and then bed.
Bed is where it all falls apart. I can pass out with sheer exhaustion but then at some point in the very dark and quiet bit of the night I'm woken, either by a massive hot flush - brought on by my impending early menopause which has been triggered by the surgery. Or by needing a wee, my bladder is sensitive and sore after processing the last two radiation injections which are needed to show things up on the scans. Or by turning over or moving more quickly than my healing will allow which can really hurt. I sit up (which stops the pain in my breast), go for a wee, open the window and go back to bed. If I'm really lucky I'll go back to sleep. If I'm not I can spend hours trying to justify,, rationalise and thrash out all the things I cannot dare to visit during the day.
I am positive, and hopeful and mostly happy. But in my quiet moments I'm scared, it doesn't make any difference how many success stories I hear or how lovely everyone is - I know deep down that if there was no chance that I could have cancer in my blood, organs or bones that the nhs simply would not be doing the scans.
My diagnosis appointment was obviously bad news. Then I had to wait for the MRI scan. That was really bad news, then I had to wait for surgery. After surgery I had more bad news - each time the cancer was bigger than was expected or had spread further.
In the last week I have had my blood taken to be scanned for cancer in my blood, last Friday I had a full body CT scan looking for tumours in my organs and yesterday I had a bone scan to see if there is cancer in my bones. Tomorrow I hope to have the results for all these scans. This fear is hard to explain, terror conjures up images of ghosts and ghouls, or for a parent it signifies child molesters or abductors. terror is a sharp fear, breath stealing and knee trembling. Fear is an understatement. To say that I am scared does not do justice to the constant ache in the pit of my stomach. If I stop for a moment to indulge the ache or even consider it, I am left swallowing tears of despair. My temper is short and my patience is thin.
To distract myself from this internal horror I am keeping busy, it's what I do best. Husband is working today so I took on the full Mummy role and took my first solo drive to school and back. I smiled at everyone and even received a few back. I took each child all the way to their classrooms, enjoying the process of hanging coats, filling lockers and preparations. I have stripped the beds, unpacked the shopping and done two loads of washing. I'm writing this then calling to chase my insurance money, going for a walk with Dad, cooking lunch, helping him fill in forms, collecting the kids, cooking supper....bath and then bed.
Bed is where it all falls apart. I can pass out with sheer exhaustion but then at some point in the very dark and quiet bit of the night I'm woken, either by a massive hot flush - brought on by my impending early menopause which has been triggered by the surgery. Or by needing a wee, my bladder is sensitive and sore after processing the last two radiation injections which are needed to show things up on the scans. Or by turning over or moving more quickly than my healing will allow which can really hurt. I sit up (which stops the pain in my breast), go for a wee, open the window and go back to bed. If I'm really lucky I'll go back to sleep. If I'm not I can spend hours trying to justify,, rationalise and thrash out all the things I cannot dare to visit during the day.
I am positive, and hopeful and mostly happy. But in my quiet moments I'm scared, it doesn't make any difference how many success stories I hear or how lovely everyone is - I know deep down that if there was no chance that I could have cancer in my blood, organs or bones that the nhs simply would not be doing the scans.
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