Just to get it off my chest

Yesterday I got the point where the doctor had whipped out a lump and asked for no tests to be done. Guess I need a new gynocologist now eventhough I had previously trusted him with the pregnancy and birth of my two children and fitting of the coil. I think things in Mexico are different than in the UK. So after a week of waiting we went back to the doctor. He told me the tumour was malignant and that I needed an oncologist. OK then but at least we could act instead of the limbo of the previous week. In the car on the way home the few friends I had told texted me. "How did it go?" "Oh you know I've got breast cancer but otherwise fine," I answered. Yes, I had forgotten to mention to almost everyone what the doctor had said on first examination of the tumour. Denial? Sort of. Sometimes the time change is good between the UK and Mexico. I phoned my mum. She wanted to know what the time was. 2am "Oh love..." Luckily I have health insurance through my work and so we got home and went straight into the insurance site to find an oncologist. We phoned to make appointments with a few but everyone we phoned offered me an appointment for 3 weeks time. I am not sure how long these things take in the UK but my first reaction after a month of inaction was to get everything done as soon as possible. Thus we phoned a friend who is in the biz and she got us an appointment with a breast cancer specialst for the following week. Hey, when in Mexico.... The oncologist seemed very nice and showed us some diagrams about breast cancer. "This is the type of cancer you have.. " he said. "What me? cancer? surely you don't mean me?" I thought whilst nodding my head sagely and trying to read the English titles on the diagrams that had been covered with Spanish ones. Then I was weighed and measured by the nurse. This is the first time anyone is weighing me hoping I won't lose weight I thought. I put the gown on backwards... no silly the ties go at the front now. The doctor now recomended the labs that I guess I should have had before. My mother inlaw took went with me to the hospital. While we payed I pointed out the poster behind the cashier that proclaimed having a mamogram after 40 could save your life. My 40th birthday was one week away. Mamograms are so much fun and post lumpectomy even more so. Stand still, they say will they squeeze your tit into a cold plastic vice. The nurse was very sweet but it had to be done. Don't get dressed she told me after she had taken the slides, she needed to check they had come aout OK. 3rd time lucky and we had a result. Xrays next. Another gown and this time paper booties too. I had to stand on a step and the whole machine tipped up. The radiologist disappeared behind their screen and that was that... after the second go. Hey if they are behind the screen what is this doing to me? As I left I quietly pointed out to the nice young man that he might want to clean off the smear of blood someone previous to me had left on the machine. Next stop the bone oseo lady took... or did she put into me? (I didn't look I don't like needles.) something that would take an hour to work. So... I had time for a quick ultrasound before that. The ultrasoundista/ologa (who knows) had very big hair dyed an almost unbelievable shade of red. Her decorated false nails tapped on the computer as she turned it on and made adjustments. She took her gel out of a little microwave thingy and it was nice and warm when she spead it on my chest. I was beginning to wonder if there wasn't a hidden camera somewhere. She had a young male student with her... surely there was a hidden camera. "Look," she said to him jollily, "there's a tumour, oh and there's another, oh and that could be another one or maybe that is scar tissue." However, when she turned to the breast she could indeed show him how a good breast looked. "Nothing here of interest," she chirped. Next stop the bone oseo.