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?
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