I was really interested to read the new guidelines recommending 10 pieces of fruit or veg a day for optimum health and to keep cancer and heart disease at bay. It looks like the carrot diet I mentioned previously could actually be a good idea after all. The article said that having MORE than 10 pieces of fruit or veg could be even more beneficial health wise.
I'm not sure I could ever eat 10 pieces of fruit or veg a day. I have bladder problems which are exacerbated by fruit in particular. The acid in it doesn't seem to agree with me at all. Oranges are the worst (and I love them). I can manage bananas and less acidic fruit such as melon, papaya and some types of plum but other fruit can be an issue for me.
My juicer arrived this week and I immediately juiced grapes, blueberries and orange and an apple. I was up 5 times in the night to pee after that!
I've also been juicing carrots. It makes a right old mess of everything. The juicer has taken on an orange tint that I feel sure will always be there. I've not managed to drink as much as is recommended to fight cancer though. It's very hard to drink litres of juice. It reminds me of drinking the Prep for a colonoscopy. Not great. So far, it's sent me to the loo a lot. I also put it in the fridge and now when trying to drink it, it gives me brain freeze! I'm trying to build the amount of juice up per day but it's not easy. I'm thinking it might be a lot more palatable with gin or vodka in it!!
There is a bigger issue though with eating more fruit and veg. The calories! 5lb of carrots juiced is about 600 calories! That's quite a lot if you are already trying to cut down and 10 pieces of fruit depending on type could be anything from about 600 to 900 calories. Yes doctor I've gained weight on the fruit and veg diet! Added to that, the cost of my fruit and veg this week has been around £30, it won't be easy for families on low incomes or benefits to buy it.
Back to the carrot juicing. I emailed the guy who champions the carrot diet, Ralph Cole. He emailed back - he's such a lovely person. He is 100% convinced his cancer was cured by carrots. It all sounds a bit quacky I know, but what if he's right?!!! It's very risky isn't it and as I have mentioned before I wouldn't turn down conventional cancer treatments in favour of it, but along side it, I'm giving it a go. Ralph doesn't try and sell anything and doesn't charge for his information. He just wants to share it with others in the hope that they too can fight cancer.
There is another piece here from Ann Cameron, who also did the carrot juicing to fight her own cancer. I'm quite intrigued by it all at the moment.
http://www.chrisbeatcancer.com/ann-cameron-cured-her-cancer-with-carrot-juice/
Sunday, 26 February 2017
Wednesday, 22 February 2017
No News Is Terrible
I've been waiting for the dreaded call this afternoon inviting me to see my consultant in the morning. The call never came. Read into this what you will because I have. Today has been one of the hardest days for me. I was told last week that my case would be discussed today (the usual thing - it's always Wednesday morning) and that I would get a call later on in the day to make an appointment to see the oncologist. What am I to make of this? Has the call not come because the meeting was cancelled? Maybe I didn't get a call because the MRI has thrown up a worse situation and they need to speak to other consultants before seeing me? Are they trying to find me an urgent bed? Has nothing further been found and there is no immediate urgency to see me? Did the MRI not work properly as I went in on my tummy? As usual I prefer to think that something major has occurred and so I expect the worst. I cried today. I am a cryer by nature. I can cry for anyone's child in a nativity play. I'm embarrassed by my ability to cry at the most menial of things. I always feel I need to man up. Anyway I don't want to cry about cancer. I really don't. I don't feel sorry for myself and I don't think 'why me" I think 'why not me" - it happens to babies and teenagers, why should I be exempt? So crying today annoyed me and I soon told myself off and stopped fairly sharpish.
I AM annoyed though. I'm angry. I shouldn't be because obviously several people have had similar phone calls today and they may well be in a worse situation that me and they deserve those phone calls. Everyone tells you that the waiting is the worst and it really is. It is difficult to even understand what that might be like until you find yourself in a situation where you are waiting. I didn't sleep well and I have been expecting the worst but not getting the phone call has exceeded all my usual feelings of anxiety.. I thought that by tomorrow morning I would know my fate. Part of me doesn't want to know but the sensible part tells me that once I know what's got to be done I can knuckle down and get on with it.
Now I am left in limbo not knowing what on earth has gone on and I certainly won't be seeing my oncologist tomorrow. I have phoned the cancer nurses. They always ring to make the appointment anyway. I wasn't going to call but I just couldn't help myself, I didn't want another restless night. But there was no reply, the call just went to answerphone. So here I am, waiting again. It's been over a month since they found cancer in my colon and I am still waiting to find out exactly what's going on. It's complete and utter torture.
I AM annoyed though. I'm angry. I shouldn't be because obviously several people have had similar phone calls today and they may well be in a worse situation that me and they deserve those phone calls. Everyone tells you that the waiting is the worst and it really is. It is difficult to even understand what that might be like until you find yourself in a situation where you are waiting. I didn't sleep well and I have been expecting the worst but not getting the phone call has exceeded all my usual feelings of anxiety.. I thought that by tomorrow morning I would know my fate. Part of me doesn't want to know but the sensible part tells me that once I know what's got to be done I can knuckle down and get on with it.
Now I am left in limbo not knowing what on earth has gone on and I certainly won't be seeing my oncologist tomorrow. I have phoned the cancer nurses. They always ring to make the appointment anyway. I wasn't going to call but I just couldn't help myself, I didn't want another restless night. But there was no reply, the call just went to answerphone. So here I am, waiting again. It's been over a month since they found cancer in my colon and I am still waiting to find out exactly what's going on. It's complete and utter torture.
Saturday, 18 February 2017
Don't Believe The Hype
I've never believed the hype surrounding miracle cures for combatting cancer. Whilst the conventional treatments of chemo and radiation can be harmful to the body, I would always put my trust in my oncologist. If I had read an article about someone beating cancer with carrots 6 months ago I would have just thought they had lost the plot and were likely to kill themselves in the process. It's funny how, once you are told you have cancer, you are willing to read and try anything that might help. Carrots against chemo - carrots win hands down for the ease of administration surely!
I read about Ann Cameron beating her stage 4 cancer by juicing carrots. She had read it online herself and decided to go with it. After all, what harm can it do? In fact, I've read of several success stories. I haven't read any stories where it hasn't succeeded as I guess those people aren't here to tell us it didn't work! I'm not knocking it at all. If it has worked and saved only one life, I'm all for it. Ann is no fool. She's a children's author and clearly a very intelligent woman. I immediately downloaded her book!
The article I found online is posted below:
http://naturalsociety.com/man-woman-carrot-juice-stage-4-cancer/
Apparently, 5 pounds of carrots a day are needed to kill the cancer. I'm sure this is quite an ordeal, not only drinking it but juicing it too. Ann initially tried 3 pounds and it didn't work. The carrots also make you turn a nice shade of David Dickinson. This bothers me, I'm not sure why because in the whole scheme of things I'd rather have a teak finish on my skin than be in a teak box in the ground! Ann changed nothing else in her diet. She only added the carrot juice.
I had a look at the Cancer Research UK website where there are several discussions regarding carrot juicing. Some are very positive but, rightly so, the Research Team DO post asking people not to promote *cures* that are not scientifically tested. One man on the forum has been carrot juicing for several months. When he went back for a CT scan in September last year, he was unhappy as the results were not good but he carried on juicing daily anyway. 2 months later in November, he had another CT scan which showed that the tumour on his lung had disappeared and the largest tumour on his liver had shrunk! He hasn't updated since because I think the comments by the moderators have put him off but I really hope he is well! I've sent him a PM in the hope of getting an update.
I'm rambling here of course as I have no idea if this alternative therapy (or any of the others) work and no doubt most of them don't but anything positive for anyone is surely a good thing. Positive thinking is something I don't possess much of but reading success stories lifts my heart for the people concerned.
I've sent for a juicer :)
I read about Ann Cameron beating her stage 4 cancer by juicing carrots. She had read it online herself and decided to go with it. After all, what harm can it do? In fact, I've read of several success stories. I haven't read any stories where it hasn't succeeded as I guess those people aren't here to tell us it didn't work! I'm not knocking it at all. If it has worked and saved only one life, I'm all for it. Ann is no fool. She's a children's author and clearly a very intelligent woman. I immediately downloaded her book!
The article I found online is posted below:
http://naturalsociety.com/man-woman-carrot-juice-stage-4-cancer/
Apparently, 5 pounds of carrots a day are needed to kill the cancer. I'm sure this is quite an ordeal, not only drinking it but juicing it too. Ann initially tried 3 pounds and it didn't work. The carrots also make you turn a nice shade of David Dickinson. This bothers me, I'm not sure why because in the whole scheme of things I'd rather have a teak finish on my skin than be in a teak box in the ground! Ann changed nothing else in her diet. She only added the carrot juice.
I had a look at the Cancer Research UK website where there are several discussions regarding carrot juicing. Some are very positive but, rightly so, the Research Team DO post asking people not to promote *cures* that are not scientifically tested. One man on the forum has been carrot juicing for several months. When he went back for a CT scan in September last year, he was unhappy as the results were not good but he carried on juicing daily anyway. 2 months later in November, he had another CT scan which showed that the tumour on his lung had disappeared and the largest tumour on his liver had shrunk! He hasn't updated since because I think the comments by the moderators have put him off but I really hope he is well! I've sent him a PM in the hope of getting an update.
I'm rambling here of course as I have no idea if this alternative therapy (or any of the others) work and no doubt most of them don't but anything positive for anyone is surely a good thing. Positive thinking is something I don't possess much of but reading success stories lifts my heart for the people concerned.
I've sent for a juicer :)
Wednesday, 15 February 2017
Night Terrors - MRI Scan
It's been a tough few days with the MRI scan looming large. I didn't sleep well last night and I've been a grumpy sod for a couple of days. It's difficult to put these things to the back of your mind. I found myself lying in bed with the quilt over my head trying to mimic being in the MRI machine. I did the same in the bath pretending it was the machine and trying to imagine I couldn't move. It didn't help. I can't sleep with the window shut and I have never been able to wear one of those masks for painting and decorating such is my claustrophobia. I never said I was normal!!!
I needn't have worried though because this time, it wasn't half so bad and I don't know how I managed it, but I stuck it out regardless of being terrified!
Things didn't start well. I arrived 25 minutes early only be to be told they were running quite late. A woman waiting for her husband informed me that his appointment was at 2.45pm and he hadn't gone in until 4.30pm. Oh brilliant. I've got hours to sit here and panic about everything going on. I could hear the machine clunking away in the next room for what seemed like an eternity.
When the husband of my companion in the waiting room came out, he looked very red faced as if he'd been in a sauna. 'I used to go out with a radiographer, but she saw straight through me' he said. It wasn't funny so I struggled to laugh. Sensing he hadn't won me over with his joke he added 'I then went out with a doctor but she lost her patience'. Worse, I thought. I forced a laugh. He continued in the same vein with another couple of Christmas cracker jokes and then as they bid me farewell, I found myself sat on my own in the waiting room with the Antiques Road Trip on TV for company. Even though there was only the TV and me, I didn't watch it, I couldn't put my mind to anything but how I was going to make myself stay in the tube! No one had given me a Plan B so I had to get through Plan A.
After about 15 minutes I was escorted into the changing room and asked if I had anything metal and removable on my body, such as teeth, hearing aid, belly button piercing? No. I was told to put my belongings in a locker in the changing room a bit like when you go to the baths, or certainly what I did in my childhood when I went to the baths. Has all that changed? I haven't been for about 30 years!
I was asked if I knew I was to go through the machine on my tummy, I did - and thank you Mr Consultant for suggesting this because it was absolutely nowhere near as bad as going through on my back. I could see daylight and this helped massively. Every time I felt a bit panicked, I glanced into the open, airy room and and felt OK again. I won't say it was easy because it wasn't. 20 minutes felt like a lifetime and how I managed to stay still for that time amazes me. My knees were killing me, my neck hurt and I felt I needed to cough on several occasions. Worrying about coughing actually made the time go by as I tried my hardest to control it fearing that if I DID cough, it would nul and void the part of the MRI I had already done. The noises made by the machine were varied. I counted them, I don't know why. I have a tendency to count everything, steps, stairs, people walking on the beach, paving slabs and sometimes, how many steps it will take me to get to the car or get home. I think it's called 'being a prat syndrome'.
If you have ended up reading this page because you are worried about having an MRI scan then please don't. Honestly, if I can do it then anyone can. The machine wasn't even switched on for my first attempt before I was back in the car and heading home. It was something that I just felt wasn't going to happen so please suggest lying on your tummy if you DO have difficulty. Not seeing the tunnel above you really is a huge help.
So another step completed and now I have more sleepless nights worrying about the outcome. It's been a long few weeks and no doubt it will be a long few months.
I needn't have worried though because this time, it wasn't half so bad and I don't know how I managed it, but I stuck it out regardless of being terrified!
Things didn't start well. I arrived 25 minutes early only be to be told they were running quite late. A woman waiting for her husband informed me that his appointment was at 2.45pm and he hadn't gone in until 4.30pm. Oh brilliant. I've got hours to sit here and panic about everything going on. I could hear the machine clunking away in the next room for what seemed like an eternity.
When the husband of my companion in the waiting room came out, he looked very red faced as if he'd been in a sauna. 'I used to go out with a radiographer, but she saw straight through me' he said. It wasn't funny so I struggled to laugh. Sensing he hadn't won me over with his joke he added 'I then went out with a doctor but she lost her patience'. Worse, I thought. I forced a laugh. He continued in the same vein with another couple of Christmas cracker jokes and then as they bid me farewell, I found myself sat on my own in the waiting room with the Antiques Road Trip on TV for company. Even though there was only the TV and me, I didn't watch it, I couldn't put my mind to anything but how I was going to make myself stay in the tube! No one had given me a Plan B so I had to get through Plan A.
After about 15 minutes I was escorted into the changing room and asked if I had anything metal and removable on my body, such as teeth, hearing aid, belly button piercing? No. I was told to put my belongings in a locker in the changing room a bit like when you go to the baths, or certainly what I did in my childhood when I went to the baths. Has all that changed? I haven't been for about 30 years!
I was asked if I knew I was to go through the machine on my tummy, I did - and thank you Mr Consultant for suggesting this because it was absolutely nowhere near as bad as going through on my back. I could see daylight and this helped massively. Every time I felt a bit panicked, I glanced into the open, airy room and and felt OK again. I won't say it was easy because it wasn't. 20 minutes felt like a lifetime and how I managed to stay still for that time amazes me. My knees were killing me, my neck hurt and I felt I needed to cough on several occasions. Worrying about coughing actually made the time go by as I tried my hardest to control it fearing that if I DID cough, it would nul and void the part of the MRI I had already done. The noises made by the machine were varied. I counted them, I don't know why. I have a tendency to count everything, steps, stairs, people walking on the beach, paving slabs and sometimes, how many steps it will take me to get to the car or get home. I think it's called 'being a prat syndrome'.
If you have ended up reading this page because you are worried about having an MRI scan then please don't. Honestly, if I can do it then anyone can. The machine wasn't even switched on for my first attempt before I was back in the car and heading home. It was something that I just felt wasn't going to happen so please suggest lying on your tummy if you DO have difficulty. Not seeing the tunnel above you really is a huge help.
So another step completed and now I have more sleepless nights worrying about the outcome. It's been a long few weeks and no doubt it will be a long few months.
Monday, 13 February 2017
Doing A Bit Of Research....
...well, googling colon cancer to be honest. How many people tell you not to do it?! The truth is that whilst some will avoid it for fear of what they might find, the majority of people are going to google it whatever. There are top class scientists on the internet having researched just about everything known to man as well as the best consultants in the world. Why wouldn't you want to find out as much as you can? That part is fine. It's when you happen across other stuff telling you not to have chemo because it will 'kill you' and to cure cancer with food, or supplements. Added to that there is a section of society that tells you that praying will save you. Apparently, googling cancer is worse for you than cancer itself! Yet we continue to torture ourselves doing it! It's a bit like having one of those medical books back in the 70's. My dad threw ours out in the end due to the fact that he'd diagnosed himself as having most of the illnesses from A - Z! Doctors hate it if you say you've googled your symptoms and give you quite a dressing down for it but then when you tell them your symptoms, they proceed to google it themselves! I know they are looking at reputable websites but even so, they don't know what's wrong with you half the time either! I've even had doctor's print out reading matter off the internet for me to take home, a type of homework for the sick!
Apparently googling your symptoms makes you a 'cybercondriac'!
What about books? I've bought a few lately. I was really taken with the pH theory that cancer cannot live in a high pH environment and that by eating the right foods and taking the right supplements, the cancer will have no alternative but to die! I wrote a list of foods to buy and set about sorting out recipes. I also googled 'High pH diet doesn't work' and sure enough, there were as many websites saying it was rubbish as those that said it was a miracle cure! It appears in loads of top 10 myths about cancer. Eating healthier can only be good for us, but if at some point in my life I find I have a terminal illness, I'm going out for a McDonald's and as much Cadburys chocolate as I can stuff my face with!
Cancer blogs are another thing. There are thousands. I read one yesterday that finished in 2012. I can only imagine that the blogger died and that's why it came to an abrupt end, or that they got the all clear and took themselves off to some far flung place to have the most wonderful time. I hope it's the latter.
Apparently googling your symptoms makes you a 'cybercondriac'!
What about books? I've bought a few lately. I was really taken with the pH theory that cancer cannot live in a high pH environment and that by eating the right foods and taking the right supplements, the cancer will have no alternative but to die! I wrote a list of foods to buy and set about sorting out recipes. I also googled 'High pH diet doesn't work' and sure enough, there were as many websites saying it was rubbish as those that said it was a miracle cure! It appears in loads of top 10 myths about cancer. Eating healthier can only be good for us, but if at some point in my life I find I have a terminal illness, I'm going out for a McDonald's and as much Cadburys chocolate as I can stuff my face with!
Cancer blogs are another thing. There are thousands. I read one yesterday that finished in 2012. I can only imagine that the blogger died and that's why it came to an abrupt end, or that they got the all clear and took themselves off to some far flung place to have the most wonderful time. I hope it's the latter.
Sunday, 12 February 2017
Saturday, 11 February 2017
It's The Weekend
The dreaded MRI appointment has finally come through. Its for Wednesday at 5PM. I assume I am last in because I made a bit of a scene last time. Embarrassing. I've now got 5 days to worry about just how I'm going to get through that bloody scanner! What happens if I can't go through with it again? How will they ever find out where the cancer is and what my options are? It's such an important thing to have done so I have to do my best, I know this but the fear is still at the back of my mind.
Met up with some friends last night. Drank champagne and had a laugh. It's lovely to be in the company of people that make me forget about my cancer woes. I walked home in my slippers carrying my Ugg boots. A few steps down the lane and it all came flooding back to me. It's always there waiting to pop back to the front of my thoughts. I try not to think about it but it's so difficult. Sitting in the car overlooking the sea every day, I can't help asking myself if I will be looking at this view this time next year. Will I be paddling in the summer like last year? Why do I torture myself so much. I can't do that 'take one step at a time' crap at all, I have to make myself think the worst and frighten the bejasus out of myself!
One of my friends is a staff nurse and works at the hospital I will have to go to if I need surgery. She keeps telling me she will call in on me often and get the other nurses to look after me. I guess I should feel happy and comforted by this but I actually feel really upset about it. I don't want her calling in on me seeing me at my worst! I don't really want my family to see me like it! It feels such a huge thing in my life and I woke up worrying about it this morning. In the whole scheme of things, does it really matter if she sees me with no make up, my hair a mess and possibly having lost a bridged tooth? It really does matter to me right now!!! In fact, the thought of this has actually put the much larger issue that I have cancer into second place at the moment! I mean, a gap in my teeth?!! Horrific!
Met up with some friends last night. Drank champagne and had a laugh. It's lovely to be in the company of people that make me forget about my cancer woes. I walked home in my slippers carrying my Ugg boots. A few steps down the lane and it all came flooding back to me. It's always there waiting to pop back to the front of my thoughts. I try not to think about it but it's so difficult. Sitting in the car overlooking the sea every day, I can't help asking myself if I will be looking at this view this time next year. Will I be paddling in the summer like last year? Why do I torture myself so much. I can't do that 'take one step at a time' crap at all, I have to make myself think the worst and frighten the bejasus out of myself!
One of my friends is a staff nurse and works at the hospital I will have to go to if I need surgery. She keeps telling me she will call in on me often and get the other nurses to look after me. I guess I should feel happy and comforted by this but I actually feel really upset about it. I don't want her calling in on me seeing me at my worst! I don't really want my family to see me like it! It feels such a huge thing in my life and I woke up worrying about it this morning. In the whole scheme of things, does it really matter if she sees me with no make up, my hair a mess and possibly having lost a bridged tooth? It really does matter to me right now!!! In fact, the thought of this has actually put the much larger issue that I have cancer into second place at the moment! I mean, a gap in my teeth?!! Horrific!
Friday, 10 February 2017
Waiting Around
There's an awful lot of waiting around. As everyone in a similar position will tell you, the waiting is the worst. I'm feeling angry that I waited around for 6 months after first seeing my GP before I could get anyone to take me seriously. This is causing me some angst at the moment and I'm fighting the urge to go marching into the surgery to tell her exactly what I think of her. I won't of course, it just keeps me going thinking that I might!! If I had been sent to see a consultant immediately, would I still be in the same boat? I'll never know.
Waiting for results of scans is equally frustrating. It seems to take forever to hear anything and then when you do and there is some urgency about it, you wish you'd never heard anything in the first place. My head is a mess waiting to hear because it gives me time to imagine what is going on inside my body. Is it spreading every day? Is it contained, has it actually already been removed? It makes me wonder about my own mortality and just how long I have to live. Waiting for the postman for appointments on a daily basis becomes part of the daily routine. When nothing arrives, you start to think the letter has been lost in the post or delivered to someone else by mistake. It's amazing the scenario's it's possible to make up in your head in one day!
Then there is the waiting around at the hospital to see the consultant. You look around the waiting room wondering just how many of those sat there have been called in the same as you have. They all look happy enough and laughing with their partners or friends. It must just be me with bad news then.
The consultant smiles, shakes my hand and tells me it's nice to see me again. I wonder what makes me sit there while the bad news starts to sink in and manage somehow to keep nodding and looking composed. It's not the news I want of course but after 10 months it is at least news of some sort.
Now I wait again. I've chased up the MRI appointment. I left it a week and when I hadn't heard anything I rang the hospital. The delay is because I couldn't go through with it last time. It is something to do with me having to go through the machine at a different angle. Why I wonder? I was told to try to go through on my belly. How can this delay the scan? No one but me seems in any hurry to find the full facts out. It's frustrating to say the least.
So I wait around again.....
Waiting for results of scans is equally frustrating. It seems to take forever to hear anything and then when you do and there is some urgency about it, you wish you'd never heard anything in the first place. My head is a mess waiting to hear because it gives me time to imagine what is going on inside my body. Is it spreading every day? Is it contained, has it actually already been removed? It makes me wonder about my own mortality and just how long I have to live. Waiting for the postman for appointments on a daily basis becomes part of the daily routine. When nothing arrives, you start to think the letter has been lost in the post or delivered to someone else by mistake. It's amazing the scenario's it's possible to make up in your head in one day!
Then there is the waiting around at the hospital to see the consultant. You look around the waiting room wondering just how many of those sat there have been called in the same as you have. They all look happy enough and laughing with their partners or friends. It must just be me with bad news then.
The consultant smiles, shakes my hand and tells me it's nice to see me again. I wonder what makes me sit there while the bad news starts to sink in and manage somehow to keep nodding and looking composed. It's not the news I want of course but after 10 months it is at least news of some sort.
Now I wait again. I've chased up the MRI appointment. I left it a week and when I hadn't heard anything I rang the hospital. The delay is because I couldn't go through with it last time. It is something to do with me having to go through the machine at a different angle. Why I wonder? I was told to try to go through on my belly. How can this delay the scan? No one but me seems in any hurry to find the full facts out. It's frustrating to say the least.
So I wait around again.....
Thursday, 9 February 2017
Friends?
People have started to ignore me. This brings out two different sides of me. The one side feels a bit sorry for them because they clearly do not know what to say but the other brings out this feeling of annoyance that they just can't be normal with me. I'm still me. I'm still that great girl who has the most fantastic sense of humour (and a high opinion of herself!). It's the people who I do not expect to ignore me that angers me the most. Those that I have always been there for. The ones that have phoned me or texted most days for years. The ones I've sent flowers to when they have been ill, called or texted daily when things have been tough. Those are the worst 'friends'.
Then there are those that have been friends for years but do not keep in contact that much. These old friends seem to be the ones who really care and text early morning to see if I have been OK, drop little messages here and there throughout the day to say they are thinking about me. These absent friends have been supportive and understanding.
My true friends reacted in the only way I would expect. They said 'come round, we'll open a couple of bottles of wine' and we did. Champagne in fact and cancer wasn't mentioned once.
We've only lived in the area we live now for 16 months. We've got to know a few people and some have become very close friends. I've been surprised at the amount of people who have called round with flowers. It's not that I want a fuss. I'd rather no one know if I'm honest, but that's just never going to work because if you tell one, it spreads like wild fire. This is Wales, they love a gossip!
I'll never mention any of this on Facebook. I already shout at the PC at what some people put on there. Why do they feel the need to live out their whole life on Facebook? Every last thing is added. 'Going to town" selfie. 'Going to collect kids from school' selfie. 'Row with other half' - sad selfie. 'Kids are so ill' selfie of sick kids in bed. Well this ain't going to happen on my timeline. If I die then my hubby can put on, "Lynne's gone kicking and screaming to the other side". This may well take some time as he's never used Facebook or any other social media platform in his life, so at least it will keep him occupied for a while and stop him thinking about his huge loss and just how on earth he will manage to live without me.
'Going to the other side".. now that's another kettle of fish!!
Then there are those that have been friends for years but do not keep in contact that much. These old friends seem to be the ones who really care and text early morning to see if I have been OK, drop little messages here and there throughout the day to say they are thinking about me. These absent friends have been supportive and understanding.
My true friends reacted in the only way I would expect. They said 'come round, we'll open a couple of bottles of wine' and we did. Champagne in fact and cancer wasn't mentioned once.
We've only lived in the area we live now for 16 months. We've got to know a few people and some have become very close friends. I've been surprised at the amount of people who have called round with flowers. It's not that I want a fuss. I'd rather no one know if I'm honest, but that's just never going to work because if you tell one, it spreads like wild fire. This is Wales, they love a gossip!
I'll never mention any of this on Facebook. I already shout at the PC at what some people put on there. Why do they feel the need to live out their whole life on Facebook? Every last thing is added. 'Going to town" selfie. 'Going to collect kids from school' selfie. 'Row with other half' - sad selfie. 'Kids are so ill' selfie of sick kids in bed. Well this ain't going to happen on my timeline. If I die then my hubby can put on, "Lynne's gone kicking and screaming to the other side". This may well take some time as he's never used Facebook or any other social media platform in his life, so at least it will keep him occupied for a while and stop him thinking about his huge loss and just how on earth he will manage to live without me.
'Going to the other side".. now that's another kettle of fish!!
Wednesday, 8 February 2017
So... It Finally Got Me
Was I expecting it? Yes. Cancer took my dad, it's trying to take my brother and now it has come for me. Was I shocked? Well yes simply because 3 months earlier I was given the all clear. I'm 59. My brother was 59 when he was diagnosed and my dad was 65 when he died.
It's taken 10 months to get a diagnosis. I went along to see my GP in quite a panic after I saw blood in my poo. I was quick with this, saw it one day, went to see the GP the next. Unfortunately, my GP wasn't in so much of a panic. She said that she felt it was nothing to worry about and sent me home. A few days later I had a letter through the post from her. It said that, upon reflection, she felt that the symptoms I presented at my appointment needed checking so she referred me to see a specialist, but only as a routine appointment.
3 months went by. I didn't hear anything. I went back to see my GP with another issue. I'd had really strange sensations in my arms and kept having hot flushes. I put it down to the menopause. I was sent for a blood test and it came back that I had a folic acid deficiency. I mentioned that no appointment had come through regarding the rectal bleeding. I wasn't too concerned at this point as I hadn't been seeing blood but the GP said it had only been 3 months and not to worry, the appointment would be through soon.
6 months later, still no appointment. The bleeding was worse. I phone the surgery and was told to ring the hospital to chase up the appointment. This wasn't an easy task. I didn't know which hospital I had been referred to or who the consultant was. I rang round a few places and finally got to speak to someone who knew I was in the queue! I was told the appointment would take up to 12 months.
Naturally enough I went back to see my GP and at this point, she did seem more concerned this time and referred me as an emergency. Things happened quickly. I was seeing a consultant within a week and was told I would need a colonoscopy. This was duly booked and the dreaded Prep was given for me to start the day before my colonoscopy. This was really unpleasant. Not only was I starving (can't eat for 24 hours) but the visits to the loo, the sore bottom and the fear of not making it to the loo in time were just a few of the issues involved! Pushing my husband out of the way shouting "quick, I'm going to follow through" wasn't my finest moment.
The following day I went along for my colonoscopy. I wish I could say it went well, but in reality, it was bloody painful. So painful in fact, I was screaming out in agony and although some sedative was eventually given to me, the main part of the colonoscopy had to be aborted. The sedative kicked in when I got home about an hour later! However, a large polyp was found in the lower part of my bowel and samples were taken for biopsies. The doctor doing the colonoscopy was clearly annoyed with me. He started off very nice and chatty but got more annoyed as it became clear I wasn't going to be able to proceed due to the pain I was suffering.
If I'd made a fool of myself with the colonoscopy then bear with me as things were about to get even more embarrassing. I then had to go for an MRI. This didn't go at all well. Once in the tube I had a complete panic attack and that too had to be aborted. I mean, it just didn't matter how much I told myself that that this could be a matter of life or death, my head was having none of it and out of the tube I popped having wasted some more of the NHS precious time time and money. When I first saw the scanner, I thought I would be fine. It was a big hole, it didn't look too intimidating. Once on the bed though, it was raised really high and my large boobs were almost touching the top of the tube. I felt squashed. My arms were pressing against the sides. Another lift of the bed meant my nose was centimetres away from the top of the scanner and it was then that I realised there was no way this was going to happen. The claustrophobia was horrific.
I also went for a CT scan that same day. I have to be honest, none of these procedures are great but the CT scan is the easiest of all and I was relieved to go through with it. At some point after the aborted MRI procedure, I was sent for a colonography, another CT scan but different images. For this one I had another Prep and then a tube was inserted into my bum and I had to keep turning over from back to front, side to side with the tube still firmly in place.
The following week I had a phone call from the hospital. The consultant wanted to see me the following day. Well this was unexpected. The following day? That was quick and seemed urgent. I had the worst night worrying that I probably had stage 4 cancer and I would be dead by the end of the month! Sitting in the queue the following morning at the hospital, my mind was awash with all sorts of scenarios, they were unnecessary. The consultant told me that nothing had showed up on the CT scan. I was cancer free and the only thing that needed doing was the polyp taken away. The biopsies had shown the polyp not to be cancerous. As there was no rush for this, I would get a letter in due course to get the procedure done. He said that there was a very tiny chance that, once the polyp was removed, there could be a very small amount of cancer underneath it which wasn't picked up on the CT scan but if this was the case it would be operable and I wasn't to worry as he was almost certain this wouldn't happen anyway.
When I got back to the car, my husband was sat waiting for me and I cried when I told him I was cancer free. We both did. It was November. It was almost Christmas. We could have a lovely time with our family and friends without having to worry about the cancer word again.
I paid it little thought to be honest. Very occasionally I would spring into my mind and I would have a niggling doubt about the polyp but generally, I forgot about it.
The appointment for the polyp to be removed came through and I again went through the Prep and told myself this was the final hurdle, the Prep and then the procedure and then, my life back.
The procedure was easier than the first colonoscopy. The polyp was taken away while Trump's inauguration was on TV. The polyp was easier to deal with! The pain was again awful, like childbirth. The doctor said if I could fart (yes he said fart) it would help get rid of the cramping. I told him I didn't want to fart in front of a doctor and 4 nurses but he was very keen for me to do it so I pushed as hard as I could and farted for about 10 seconds. It was quite satisfying. Not as satisfying as one of the nurses saying "are you a posh bird"? I'm not, but if I can give the illusion I am with a tube up my arse and farting for 10 seconds then my work here is done!
When the phone call came from the hospital 10 days later asking me to go in to see the consultant the following morning again I was more than a bit taken aback and I won't lie, I had the worst night ever. I knew it must be serious. Why would they want me the next day?
I can't remember the consultants words. They were something along the lines of 'well we have a lot of thinking to do about how we go forward with your treatment from here". "That doesn't sound very good" I said. He continued to tell me that the polyp was in fact cancerous after all and that whilst they hoped the cancer had been removed with the polyp, it could have spread. Nothing had shown up on the CT scans and I needed an MRI. His mouth was moving but I can't say I heard half of what he said because all I could do was sit there and keep saying in my head "I have cancer. I have cancer". It was a shock. Was I angry? Yes I was. Angry with the GP for not referring me sooner, angry at the consultant for telling me 3 months ago I was cancer free, angry that the polyp biopsy said no cancer, angry that no cancer showed in either CT scan, angry that I didn't manage the MRI which could have thrown this information up months ago. Yes I was angry about a lot of things. At my previous appointment where the consultant told me I was cancer free, he was so lovely and reassuring, but this time, no matter what I asked, he didn't seem able to put my mind at ease and I didn't find him as approachable. No doubt he was, but in my head, he was the bearer of bad news and I didn't like him much. He said that the options, if the cancer has spread, were chemo or major surgery. He pointed out that I wasn't exactly the right shape for major surgery and that any treatment had risks. So not only did he tell me I had cancer, he said I was a fat cow too.
So here beginneth my *journey*. I do hate that word. I'm not on any sort of journey I want to be on. I didn't ask for this journey and I want to get off at the next stop. I await an appointment to have another MRI. That should be fun. I asked about the open MRI machine I know is available at another hospital but was told they are not so good. I just felt that surely one not so good MRI is better than not having one at all.
I have lost faith in anything anyone tells me. The polyp wasn't cancerous, then it was. I was cancer free, now I'm not. How do I go forward with trust?
It's taken 10 months to get a diagnosis. I went along to see my GP in quite a panic after I saw blood in my poo. I was quick with this, saw it one day, went to see the GP the next. Unfortunately, my GP wasn't in so much of a panic. She said that she felt it was nothing to worry about and sent me home. A few days later I had a letter through the post from her. It said that, upon reflection, she felt that the symptoms I presented at my appointment needed checking so she referred me to see a specialist, but only as a routine appointment.
3 months went by. I didn't hear anything. I went back to see my GP with another issue. I'd had really strange sensations in my arms and kept having hot flushes. I put it down to the menopause. I was sent for a blood test and it came back that I had a folic acid deficiency. I mentioned that no appointment had come through regarding the rectal bleeding. I wasn't too concerned at this point as I hadn't been seeing blood but the GP said it had only been 3 months and not to worry, the appointment would be through soon.
6 months later, still no appointment. The bleeding was worse. I phone the surgery and was told to ring the hospital to chase up the appointment. This wasn't an easy task. I didn't know which hospital I had been referred to or who the consultant was. I rang round a few places and finally got to speak to someone who knew I was in the queue! I was told the appointment would take up to 12 months.
Naturally enough I went back to see my GP and at this point, she did seem more concerned this time and referred me as an emergency. Things happened quickly. I was seeing a consultant within a week and was told I would need a colonoscopy. This was duly booked and the dreaded Prep was given for me to start the day before my colonoscopy. This was really unpleasant. Not only was I starving (can't eat for 24 hours) but the visits to the loo, the sore bottom and the fear of not making it to the loo in time were just a few of the issues involved! Pushing my husband out of the way shouting "quick, I'm going to follow through" wasn't my finest moment.
The following day I went along for my colonoscopy. I wish I could say it went well, but in reality, it was bloody painful. So painful in fact, I was screaming out in agony and although some sedative was eventually given to me, the main part of the colonoscopy had to be aborted. The sedative kicked in when I got home about an hour later! However, a large polyp was found in the lower part of my bowel and samples were taken for biopsies. The doctor doing the colonoscopy was clearly annoyed with me. He started off very nice and chatty but got more annoyed as it became clear I wasn't going to be able to proceed due to the pain I was suffering.
If I'd made a fool of myself with the colonoscopy then bear with me as things were about to get even more embarrassing. I then had to go for an MRI. This didn't go at all well. Once in the tube I had a complete panic attack and that too had to be aborted. I mean, it just didn't matter how much I told myself that that this could be a matter of life or death, my head was having none of it and out of the tube I popped having wasted some more of the NHS precious time time and money. When I first saw the scanner, I thought I would be fine. It was a big hole, it didn't look too intimidating. Once on the bed though, it was raised really high and my large boobs were almost touching the top of the tube. I felt squashed. My arms were pressing against the sides. Another lift of the bed meant my nose was centimetres away from the top of the scanner and it was then that I realised there was no way this was going to happen. The claustrophobia was horrific.
I also went for a CT scan that same day. I have to be honest, none of these procedures are great but the CT scan is the easiest of all and I was relieved to go through with it. At some point after the aborted MRI procedure, I was sent for a colonography, another CT scan but different images. For this one I had another Prep and then a tube was inserted into my bum and I had to keep turning over from back to front, side to side with the tube still firmly in place.
The following week I had a phone call from the hospital. The consultant wanted to see me the following day. Well this was unexpected. The following day? That was quick and seemed urgent. I had the worst night worrying that I probably had stage 4 cancer and I would be dead by the end of the month! Sitting in the queue the following morning at the hospital, my mind was awash with all sorts of scenarios, they were unnecessary. The consultant told me that nothing had showed up on the CT scan. I was cancer free and the only thing that needed doing was the polyp taken away. The biopsies had shown the polyp not to be cancerous. As there was no rush for this, I would get a letter in due course to get the procedure done. He said that there was a very tiny chance that, once the polyp was removed, there could be a very small amount of cancer underneath it which wasn't picked up on the CT scan but if this was the case it would be operable and I wasn't to worry as he was almost certain this wouldn't happen anyway.
When I got back to the car, my husband was sat waiting for me and I cried when I told him I was cancer free. We both did. It was November. It was almost Christmas. We could have a lovely time with our family and friends without having to worry about the cancer word again.
I paid it little thought to be honest. Very occasionally I would spring into my mind and I would have a niggling doubt about the polyp but generally, I forgot about it.
The appointment for the polyp to be removed came through and I again went through the Prep and told myself this was the final hurdle, the Prep and then the procedure and then, my life back.
The procedure was easier than the first colonoscopy. The polyp was taken away while Trump's inauguration was on TV. The polyp was easier to deal with! The pain was again awful, like childbirth. The doctor said if I could fart (yes he said fart) it would help get rid of the cramping. I told him I didn't want to fart in front of a doctor and 4 nurses but he was very keen for me to do it so I pushed as hard as I could and farted for about 10 seconds. It was quite satisfying. Not as satisfying as one of the nurses saying "are you a posh bird"? I'm not, but if I can give the illusion I am with a tube up my arse and farting for 10 seconds then my work here is done!
When the phone call came from the hospital 10 days later asking me to go in to see the consultant the following morning again I was more than a bit taken aback and I won't lie, I had the worst night ever. I knew it must be serious. Why would they want me the next day?
I can't remember the consultants words. They were something along the lines of 'well we have a lot of thinking to do about how we go forward with your treatment from here". "That doesn't sound very good" I said. He continued to tell me that the polyp was in fact cancerous after all and that whilst they hoped the cancer had been removed with the polyp, it could have spread. Nothing had shown up on the CT scans and I needed an MRI. His mouth was moving but I can't say I heard half of what he said because all I could do was sit there and keep saying in my head "I have cancer. I have cancer". It was a shock. Was I angry? Yes I was. Angry with the GP for not referring me sooner, angry at the consultant for telling me 3 months ago I was cancer free, angry that the polyp biopsy said no cancer, angry that no cancer showed in either CT scan, angry that I didn't manage the MRI which could have thrown this information up months ago. Yes I was angry about a lot of things. At my previous appointment where the consultant told me I was cancer free, he was so lovely and reassuring, but this time, no matter what I asked, he didn't seem able to put my mind at ease and I didn't find him as approachable. No doubt he was, but in my head, he was the bearer of bad news and I didn't like him much. He said that the options, if the cancer has spread, were chemo or major surgery. He pointed out that I wasn't exactly the right shape for major surgery and that any treatment had risks. So not only did he tell me I had cancer, he said I was a fat cow too.
So here beginneth my *journey*. I do hate that word. I'm not on any sort of journey I want to be on. I didn't ask for this journey and I want to get off at the next stop. I await an appointment to have another MRI. That should be fun. I asked about the open MRI machine I know is available at another hospital but was told they are not so good. I just felt that surely one not so good MRI is better than not having one at all.
I have lost faith in anything anyone tells me. The polyp wasn't cancerous, then it was. I was cancer free, now I'm not. How do I go forward with trust?
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