So the referral to Genetics must have finally hit their desk, as I received a significant pack asking for a lot of information that I just didn’t have. This required the parentals who were busy worrying their little hearts out in the Austrian hills, pretending to have a relaxing two week walking holiday. That would have to wait until they returned. I didn’t think it would amount to much anyway as there wasn’t any links in my immediate family to cancer that I was aware of, so I parked that little bit paperwork.
The next step closer to the operation was the pre-op assessment, and helpfully I was loaded with cold. And I mean loaded. Full on phlegm and snot all over and I spent the morning drugged up with paracetamol and flu tablets to try and hide the fact! But in seriousness I wasn’t hiding it from anyone. The nurse was lovely and after asking how long I had the cold for (three days at that point) she said I should be fine for the op in five days. After some blood tests, DNA tests (who knew?!) the first nurse knocks in that she is eleven years clear. Why? I don’t think I understand yet that everyone has a story that they want to share with a cancer patient. Maybe its like that time when you said if you become a mam you won’t talk about your kids 24/7 then you proceed to do exactly that and become the worst hypocrite alive!
After a ECG before I could be released from the assessment, I then went to the dentist where I casually asked if my pearly whites (as pearly as they can be but they are all mine) would be ok in chemo, and she then proceeded to tell me a tale about her mother-in-law and aunty who both had cancer. Why?! Why? However, she did mention that the aunty had used a cooling head pack thingy that had helped her keep her hair through chemo. That might be one thing I google.
Dark thoughts today. Why did I bloody do it? Read an article about someone with Stage four cancer a few days ago, and then read today that she had died and had written birthday cards to her son for all his birthdays. I DO NOT WANT TO LEAVE MY BABY. God, I want to see her grow up. I carried her, I had her (albeit an emergency c-section), I want to see how she turns out. I’ve only had five years with her, that’s not enough. I want those arguments when she’s a stroppy teenager (maybe sooner I hear, and I also might need to read this to myself a few times when I have to live it!). I shut it down. I cannot think like this.
The parentals help with the genetics form. Who knew that my paternal great aunties both had cancer and one had a removal (but we don’t know why – that side of the family barely know any DOB’s!). My maternal great grandfather had bowel cancer, and I didn’t know that was related but it was asked for so must be. I posted the form off, again with the thought that nothing would come of it.
Its getting more real now. One day to go and I spend the morning frantically finishing work stuff off and warning my team that I am off grid from that afternoon. For once I am not planning on sneakily checking my emails. I do not need any Whatsapp messages ‘filling me in’ on the gossip when I can’t do anything about it. I am determined to focus on me, my family and my recovery. I am positive I won’t be off two weeks. I even pack my work laptop to bring home so I can pick it up and crack on with some work second week in.
That afternoon, I also need to get radiation put in my breast where it will work its way through to my lymph nodes (the cleverness of this blows my mind). Once I’ve escaped work, I wait in the x-ray department watching Judge Rinder (help me) and waiting in another windowless hole (why are all the waiting rooms in an hospital windowless – its as if they purposefully want you to feel more depressed than you were). Then called into a further hole down a longer corridor. The male nurse was the most awkward man ever, who asked me to ‘cover up’. After lopping them out for every other person, someone trying to cover me up with a bit kitchen towel was the most ridiculous feeling in the wold. I felt like saying ‘mate, these have been seen by everyone, I’ve also had a baby, my body is not my own’!
One day to go. One last sleep then I would be rid of the lump, the cancer. It would be out of my body and I could get on with the rest of the preventative stuff and deal with life again! I’ve got this.