VOMIT

The last six weeks have been the worst of my entire life. I have been a VOMIT an acronym used in the medical profession, Victim Of Medical Imaging Technologies. It pushed me to my psychological limits and without counselling I would not have got through it. 

Riding on a high when I finished my breast cancer treatment I didn’t have a clue what was round the corner. On the 21st June at 6.30pm I got a call from my oncology consultant to say that my planning scan which I had had prior to my radiotherapy had shown 3 lumps on my lungs and that they needed to follow it up with a diagnostic CT scan. For anyone that hasn’t had cancer I can tell you your first and only conclusion is the cancer has spread. 24 hours later I was sobbing in the arms of my breast surgeon (sshhh very un covid) with her telling me she wasn’t worried about them but they had to follow them up. Conversations like this need recording because no matter how hard you try to keep the positive voices the negative ones creep in with what ifs. I even had to climb Snowdon to try and show myself all was ok. Surely I couldn’t do that if I had cancer in my lungs?

My CT scan was on the 12th July, not long to wait but every day feels like a week so it felt like forever. Results were due whilst I was in Italy and that my friends put paid to that. The thought of being away taking a call that could mean I needed to move quickly was too much. I didn’t have to wait that long because on the 14th July I had another call from my breast surgeon to say the CT scan had provided them with a clearer picture and to add to the three lumps in my lung I also had one in my liver! World came crashing down, doctor no longer sounding so chirpy, me on my knees.

So the next step was an MRI on the 22nd July, every claustrophobic individuals dream! Diazepammed up I dazed my way into the Countess. I was lucky as I got the new scanner, shorter and wider and some ear defenders for the noise! My phone appointment on the 28th July for results at 3pm was delayed by 3 hours. I sat and stared at my phone for every minute of those three hours it was excruciating. And guess what the results were inconclusive. Apparently a huge debate had ensued about me in their meeting that day. I got the impression that there was a few of them who thought they should leave me for 12 weeks and rescan me and see if they were growing, can you imagine! They weren’t looking scary enough apparently to biopsy but equally they couldn’t be sure. Flipping fantastic!!! By now my breast surgeon was living this nightmare with me and I think she knew what a nightmare I would be for 12 weeks and after everything we’ve been through with Becks and Sam she ordered me a PET CT scan. 

PET CT scans are the mother of scans. They are very expensive too so I was super grateful to her for pushing for me to have it. PET CTs basically show activity in your body so any lumps that glow are cancer. They were giving me a full scan instead of just torso so I just thought great they’ll probably find something in my head now to add to my lump tally! This scan was at Clatterbridge as it’s specialist and requires you to be injected with radioactive tracer. It’s an area of the hospital which is high security and even the toilet has metal walls for your radioactive wee! Once your injected you have to lie still for an hour in a room on your own to allow the tracer to get round your body. You can’t even read a book or go on your phone, it’s a bizarre experience.

The last seven weeks and two days my thoughts have been horrendous. It’s hard to put it into words and probably easier for those of my friends who have had cancer to comprehend. I’ll try my hardest to tell you though. Every day my thoughts have been all consumed by the possibility that the cancer had spread and to me the potential inevitability of what that would mean, and for me that ultimately was a death sentence. The anxiety was so high it was manifesting physically as well with weight loss and indigestion and many a sleepless night. I was planning everything in my head for the worst case scenario. I cancelled party invites, avoided friends and retreated. It took all my energy to carry on as normal with the kids, I couldn’t put my babies through the anguish too. I did relaxation classes, counselling, went in the harmonic egg and I scraped through. I thought I was mindful before but this is a while new level now. A leaf can’t fall from a tree without me noticing and valuing how beautiful life really is.

So what now? I’m currently driving towards the eurotunnel Italy incoming. I’m not wasting a day ❤️ There’s one lump in my lung but the breast cancer team whilst it is active seem not to be concerned so I’m off.