My drops of tears I'll turn to sparks of fire

Yet again, another Wednesday morning and another appointment at the hospital.   Today, before we had even sat down, Kelvin was saying "Good news, good news, good news!". The CT scan is clear, and so there is no cancer spread to my lungs, liver or kidneys. I had allowed myself to believe this all last week, so have been on a high anyway, so thank goodness I was right to believe!!  I got the chance to ask all of my outstanding questions. Is it a new primary? Yes, most likely.   We had a discussion about how the health professions never use the words 'definitely', 'certainly', 'guaranteed' etc.   And Kelvin said never to trust a doctor who did. Can I have the Oncotype DX test that my friend had? Yes, most likely.  This is a post-operative test that can help determine whether chemotherapy will be needed, but only works if your cancer is an early stage and oestrogen position (ER+). We're fairly certain mine will meet the criteria, but until the

An early appointment on Wednesday brought us back to Kelvin's clinic to see whether my cancer had spread or not.   The CT radiographer had told me that although the images of my scan were available immediately, the report would take 7-10 days, so I was hopeful but not necessarily expecting the CT results, as it had only been a couple of days before. Greg and I barely spoke on the way there, as I just think we knew what the other was thinking and feeling, and we didn't need to articulate it. We didn't need to make it any more real than it was.      We've both 'catastrophized' what could be, and then brought ourselves back from that.  We've both considered that I might have to live with cancer long term and die early. Or worse.    We've both envisaged what that might mean for him, for me. For me and for him.  For our families. For our friends.    Even though I know I push the thoughts away, its naïve to think they aren't there.   I just don't dwe

Monday was the day for my CT scan. I left work early to make sure I didn't get stuck in traffic ahead of my 6pm appointment, and ended up arriving an hour and a half early.   I waited in the main outpatients waiting area until about half an hour before (taking advantage of access to the Eduroam wifi network) and on entering the CT suite found myself amongst a group of 4 60-something Welsh gentlemen, putting the world to rights.   As I took my seat amongst them, they invited me to offer 'a woman's perspective'.   They were lovely chaps, one ex-Navy, one a gamekeeper and the other, I'm not sure as he asked more questions than he answered.    We talked about sexual harassment, tattoos, deer on the A40, gun dog training and tsunamis on the Indian ocean before I was called in.  They were surprised and sad that I was there for a scan, and not just to collect someone. This scan was to check my torso whether the cancer has spread to my lungs, liver, kidneys.   I've re

I’ve been meaning to write this post for a few days, but needed to calm myself down first.  A friend posted on Facebook about how upset she was at too many friends being diagnosed with cancer.  Nothing wrong with that post, and much sympathy was expressed by many others.  However one of her friends simply posted a link to this:  https://www.cureyourowncancer.org/producing-the-highest-quality-cannabis-oil.html I’ll just give you a moment there.  My blood pressure rose so high I could feel it pumping through every part of me and making me shake. With anger.    I don’t normally respond to things like that, but I couldn’t help myself.  Get your snake oil and piss off, was more or less what I said. She called me a troll. I said I wasn’t the troll here. She said she’s seen with her own eyes what it could do. I posted an article from Cancer Research UK  that explained the case for cannabis oil ( https://www.cancerresearchuk.org/about-cancer/cancer-chat/thread/cannabis-oil-4 ). She sai

Today I went for my bone scan.   The day started with Greg leaving for work at 5.30am, so that he could get to Kent without any dramas, and a lie in for me - I got up at 7am, instead of 6.  A walk with Sydney showed us blue skies and fresh air, but my cold is still making it hard to climb the hill! At Abergavenny, the car park was pretty full, but I was lucky enough to get a space fairly quickly.   I located Nuclear Medicine fairly swiftly, and found myself in a waiting room.  The other patients told me just to wait, no need to check in.   They also told me tales of long delays the day before, and one of them was already an hour past his appointment.  Deliveries of the medicines are apparently arriving late and causing problems.  However, shortly after I arrived, the 3 patients ahead of me were seen very quickly, and I was in by 10:50am.  The radiographers managed to find a vein in my left arm. We debated that they take more time and care than the phlebotomists, who seem to rush.  

So, I nearly called this blog "Here we go again".    But instead, I have taken inspiration from the eminently quotable Shakespeare, from Henry VIII's queen, Katherine, expressing her tenacity and strength.   I'd like to channel that, so "My drops of tears i’ll turn to sparks of fire" is the title we'll stick with ( https://thebardsbookclub.wordpress.com/2013/02/02/my-drops-of-tears-ill-turn-to-sparks-of-fire/ ). And why do I need such tenacity? Because I have been diagnosed with cancer once again.   I can hardly believe it. It already feels like I can't be talking about myself.  But here we are.  And although I hate all that language about 'being strong' and 'fighting it', we can and do choose how we deal with things, and my way is to face it head on and get on with it.    Nothing I do - unless I do nothing - will make a difference, but I have a host of NHS doctors, nurses, radiographers, pathologists and phlebotomists already worki