Let them eat cake!
Today I was back at Worthing Hospital for my MRI results. I nearly wasn't, but in the end I was.
At 10.09am I had a call from the hospital to say that my MRI still needed to be reported, and Dr S, my oncologist, wasn't sure it would be ready in time for my scheduled slot. Would it be OK to move my appointment to next Tuesday instead, if they could find someone who was able to swap and come in my place today. Erm....I guess? Did I have much of a choice? A polite conversation followed with me having to double check with work but I'm sure it would be OK, the very nice lady on the phone saying she'd call my preferred time slot first, blah blah blah. Then I suddenly thought - no, that's not OK actually.
"Look, I'm only 10 minutes down the road, so if you can't get someone to swap I'm happy to nip down for my 11.50 appointment today just in case and if the MRI report isn't ready then it isn't"
"OK, what I'll do is speak to the radiology department and see how likely they think it is that they'll have it ready in the next hour and a half, then I'll call you back."
"Well they've had 3 and a half weeks to get it done, tell them to pull their finger out!"
Cue the 'over exaggerated, please don't hate me, I'm nice really and hate to be rude' laugh.
"No I know they're very busy, but..."
"No you're right, I'll explain you've taken the day off work and see what they can do".
Mini victory for me! And in hindsight, potentially saving a lot of worry for another cancer patient who may well have got a call asking them if they can come in for their appointment a week early. In the next hour, in fact. I know if I got that call, my mind would be going crazy with the 'why, whats wrong, am I dying? I'M DYING!' thoughts. We have enough of those, we don't need a hospital cock up making it worse.
I didn't hear anything back so I decided to head to the hospital anyway, in a right old grump. I asked Steve to hold on to my phone while I drove in case the lady called back. And of course, we get a call on the way in.
It's Nicky, my favourite Macmillan nurse. They have the results from my MRI and she's happy to talk them over with me on the phone. Oh, except you're driving and will be at the hospital in 5 minutes. OK, come in for your appointment as planned then, we'll see you then.
So surely if she's happy to talk about the results over the phone, they can't be anything bad? But then why is she saying I should still come in? It's nothing then. Or it's something. Oh God. I wish she hadn't bloody called and I could have stormed in and been angry, rather than now shuffling in with knots in my stomach.
We got to the already very busy waiting area. There was a 30 minute delay written on the board. Not bad going, I think. Except when the nurse came to take me off to be weighed (why are they always young, pretty, skinny things? I'd feel much better about the number on the scale creeping up if there was an equally tubby girl in the room with me) she told me that the board needed to be updated and it was more like an hour's delay. Standard.
Costa in hand, I flicked through a home magazine and redesigned our whole house before Nicky unexpectedly appeared. With a silly little wave, she came and sat down and told me she was just on her way to see Dr. S, who still thought that my appointment today had been cancelled. She told me she'd been in the radiology department herself that morning, knocking on doors to get someone to sort out my report. She is absolutely bloody marvellous, when you think that Dr. S probably just saw my report wasn't ready and thought it easier to bump me to next week instead. Not trying to knock her - her work load must be through the roof, and by the time I got in to see her the waiting room had pretty much cleared. Most other doctors must have been finished with their morning appointments and grabbing their own Costa while my doctor hung about to see me. But this just highlights the incredible work Macmillan nurses do. Nicky is there to fight my corner when others wouldn't necessarily think of the emotional impact cancelling my appointment an hour and a half before it's due has on a gal.
Nicky also gave my shoulder a little rub and told me, eyes wide in a knowing manner, that things were alright. So when I checked that she meant my scan, she said "weeeell, I wouldn't like to say, I have to leave that up to the boss, but don't worry", So yeh, my scan is clear then. I still had to wait another hour to be told that by Dr. S, but tears of relief filled my eyes.
The appointment itself wasn't very exciting. My MRI's were there on the screen as I walked in. Really must lose some more weight, I am not a fan of seeing those wibbly wobbly outlines. Yick.
No sign of any cancer recurrence on my scans.
HOORAAAAAY!
Just some changes to my pelvic bones and inflammation around my lower back, both of which are to be expected following my radiotherapy. Keep up the pilates and exercise to strengthen my core and take the pressure off my bones. Easy peasy.
Dr S. asked if I'd started my HRT. No, I haven't. I told her I was waiting to hear back from her about a referral to a specialist clinic she'd called me about the day after my previous appointment. She'd said she'd been speaking with a GP friend of hers, who refers people to an "Early Ovarian Failure" clinic (catchy) in London, and would look into whether something similar was available locally for me. Today it didn't sound like she'd looked into it at all, and she said I should speak to my GP if I wanted to try and get referred. When I asked what they actually do at this clinic, she only seemed to know of them being able to measure bone density with scans, and therefore keep an eye on potential upcoming issues such as the osteoporosis the HRT is designed to protect me against. So it doesn't really sound too beneficial in helping me find alternatives to these pills. Back to square one.
My menopausal side effects seem pretty minimal. I've noticed more mood fluctuations (I'm not calling them mood swings, because they make me sound like a crazy bunny-boiler type that would completely lose my shit at the boy if he overfilled the tumble dryer again and made it leak after I've told him several times to do one load at a time, and yet he still lets the water puddle all over the bloody floor without putting a sodding towel down!!!) but it's more sadness than madness. I feel the sad days more, but I can't tell if that's a hormonal thing or an acceptance thing. A sort of realisation of what I've been through and a grieving for what I've lost.
I've decided I'm going to start taking the HRT in a couple of weeks, after my friends' wedding so I don't suddenly get any crazy side effects while I'm on maid-of-honour duty. What's the worst that can happen - I start taking them, they make me feel worse than I do and I stop taking them. Steve's already got dodgy knees, we can grow old and creaky together. At least I get to grow old, right?
Steve and I came home and treated ourselves to "You don't have cancer" cake . My slimming world regime has gone out of the window these last couple of weeks, and I will get back to it once we're home from our mini trip to Alton Towers this week....maybe. I just don't care enough. I read a cancery Instagram thread a few days ago about the changes, if any, people had made to their diet since being diagnosed. Every single reply talked about the healthy changes they'd adopted - no meat, certain grains, no dairy, vegan, paleo, it went on and on. And that's fine if that's what you want, but they were so bloody preachy about how they can't believe people still eat sugar and the cancer feeds off bad foods, blah blah blah. I really wanted to share a picture of me stuffing my face with cake and telling them that life's too short to worry about it. Eat what you bloody want, enjoy yourself. Get a little fat, be a bit naughty but for God's sake just live!
So 9 months down, 3 to go until my one year after treatment anniversary is ticked off the list. I know it's a big milestone and will definitely be a time of celebration (although not too much alcohol, because it brings on the hot flushes. Dammit.) but I came out of my appointment today wondering why I'm waiting for that date to make any plans. I know Dr S said that Bob is most likely to come back in the first year, but if he's going to come back he'll find a way. What am I waiting for? Let's get this show on the road!