It’s official

We had a week to wait until we were back for the final diagnosis on the 11th.  I’d been told to take a day or two off work after the biopsies anyway but I wasn’t ready to head back to work again without the answers to my own questions.  I had to tell my bosses though.  Due to the fact that I’m never off work they then spent the next week fending off questions from concerned colleagues who knew something must be seriously wrong.  Thanks for that Elaine and Nikki xx

The week passed surprisingly calmly and back we went on the 11th.  It was the not so charismatic Doctor again who told me I had ductal invasive carcinoma (the most common type of breast cancer) and that it was a grade 3 cancer which is the fastest growing one.  Treatment would be a mastectomy followed by chemotherapy as it had moved into my lymph nodes and then most likely radiotherapy.  I was then sent off with another Macmillan Breast Care Nurse called Amanda.  

This time I was ready to face things and had determination in me and I think we showed Amanda exactly how we wanted to handle this.  We wanted information and she was willing to give it to us.  Amanda came across as a very positive person who, like the vast majority of NHS staff, wants the very best for their patients.  She was fabulous and explained in depth more about the type of cancer I have and gave me information to take away and read. 

However at this point Ill hold my hand up and say I freaked out for the first time!  You see “bone scans” and “CT scans” were mentioned……..to find out if this horrid disease had spread to my bones, lungs, liver etc…….turning it from curable to incurable.  Luckily Amanda promised to do everything in her power to push these scans though as quickly as she could and I was booked in for a bone scan the following day (12th) and the CT scan was booked for the 18th. I don’t think I slept from that point until all of the results came back.  What a hideously long week that ended up being! 

I should point out that up to now I’ve only ever been in hospital three times in my whole life.  The first was when I had my tonsils out at 5 years old.  Back then parents weren’t allowed to stay with their children so I was left in this big scary hospital all on my own with a sore throat.  Having only ever stayed at my grandparents houses this clearly traumatised me big style as I’ve had a phobia for hospitals ever since. 

However casting aside the whole “being abandoned” thing (I’ve just about forgiven my parents for this now, honestly) I recall a) being told to eat lots of ice-cream when I was allowed home and b) speeding racing cars across the ward floor with the boy in the next bed, so I must conclude it wasn’t too bad an experience after all. 

The other two times were when Kyle and Leo were born and as I was lucky enough to require very little medical intervention I must take most of the credit for what went on during these two trips into hospital, although there is still a cup of tea and a slice of toast with my name on that I didn’t get after Leo was born!! Remind me to ask for that next time I am there! 

So you can appreciate this medical business is fairly new to me really and if I’m honest it’s quite fascinating.  

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