Ho Hum, me again doing my weekly blog while Mark goes up the pub for his darts night. This is good as it stops him peering over my shoulder making unhelpful and derogatory comments.
Anyhow, I left you all where all my tests were due to start and sure enough, appointments arrived for a CT and MRI scan. All that was missing was my ultrasound. A quick phone call to my specialist nurse and that was arranged prior to my colonoscopy so one followed on from the other. The date had to be of course Valentines Day.
The day before saw me reading the instructions on how to take the 2 plastic bottles of gunk designed to turn me into a slimline goddess by making me empy the old bowels. I have to say it really is gross. I managed to drink it down at 7.00 am but the evening one made me sick. I made the fatal mistake of thinking that if I diluted it with lime juice it would taste better. Actually it just made more of it taste worse. The actual day wasn't too bad though and it was possible to do quite a bit without needing the loo every 5 minutes. Bit of a shame, as I'd prepared in advance with a good book thinking I could hide away and read all day. Some hope and even worse was watching Mark tuck into pie and chips while I sat there nursing my glass of water. I can confirm that the slimline goddess did not emerge either.
Bright and early the next day, I arrived at Addenbrookes for my ultrasound/colonoscopy. My son who'd had one done before, suggested I took some flip flops and my own dressing gown. Got changed and had to admit I looked quite fetching in my freshly washed white robe rather than the "bum sticks out" green hospital garb. A girl has got to have some pride after all. I was called into an office to answer some pre-procedural questions to a young (and quite handsome registrar). "Erm, can I take my book through to read please". A look of amazement passed over his face. A book. "No one's ever asked to take a book in before but I'm sure it will be OK". Clasping my old tatty copy of the Thorn Birds, I was led into the treatment room, where the registrar announced to everyone that I wanted to read a book. Several pairs of astonished eyes swivelled round to stare at me. It reminded me of the comedian Bill Hicks sketch where he says "looks like we've got ourselves a reader". Such was the amazement that all the nurses wanted to know what I was reading.
The procedure itself is painless being a camera inserted into the nether regions and water pumped in I imagine, to expand things. A few false starts where the damn thing fell out but eventually it all went well. I'd like to say at this stage that I managed to read a few chapters, but everyone was so friendly, and wanted to show me the pictures of my insides that I hardly took in one word.
Quick break, then on to the colonoscopy. This did not hurt at all, maybe just slightly uncomfortable, so anyone who is having one for the first time, please do not worry. The thought is worse than the deed. I few seconds of gripes every now and again when they pump some air in, but no real pain, and I really did watch the pictures this time. I was sedated but was aware enough to understand what was going on. A saw a few little polyps get the heave ho and a blown up "I'm the star of the show Polyp" who is the real villian of the piece measuring in at 1.3 cm and looking really mean.
Anyhow, back to the ward, tea and biscuits seized upon, I was so hungry. It didn't stop there either. As I headed for the concourse I whipped into the queue and ordered a Tuna and Cheese Bake. Delicious. I just had to feed myself up again after my colonoscopy. I knew I would fade away if I didn't have one.
Next was my MRI scan which was done at the Lea. Scan was noisy and you wear ear phones to reduce the noise. It was a bit scary first time and I was lucky to have my head poking out so it wasn't really that claustrophobic. The scans can take up to 5 minutes plus each and the last one made the bed shake (sort of a " Did the earth move for you" experience) but after the initial fright, I got really bored, and really wished that I had a book to read.
The CT scan was a very simple affair. I went into the treatment room having drunk the day before and earlier that morning some liquorice type drink but absolute nectar let me tell you after the disgusting enema. This shows up all your bits inside in glorious radiational (probably not a real word) technicolor. I asked the male assistant if I needed to remove my necklace and he said no but if my bra was underwired could I remove it. Gulp. I'm always so particular about my knickers that I had forgotten to make an effort with my bra. I had on quite a sexy little number but unfortunately, one of the underwires had fallen out ages ago and as it was actually more comfy like that, I'd not thrown it away but kept it. If I could take off the culprit would he notice. Would this young man, fall about laughing at my one-sided undergarment, the right side standing to attention, fully wired, the other a floppy piece of cloth, a bit like Bagpuss. Would he regale his friends down the pub later about this eccentricity. Was it normal female behaviour or did it just happen to women after the menopause.
I finally turned my back, and with great aplomb undid it and laid it with great reverence on top of my handbag before getting up onto the bed. Things got slighly worse when my veins played hide and seek and refused to let him insert the canulla to put in more dye, but finally we were off and absolutely nothing to it. Except that he should have got me to take off my necklace after all and despite both our best efforts spent a good few minutes trying in vain to undo it. Finally done and dusted with the scan only taking a few minutes and the young man emerged to tell me to get dressed again. Trouble is that you have to keep the canulla in your arm for 10 minutes or so after the scan and I couldn't bend my arm properly to put my bra back on and I didn't want to do a Mr Bean. "Er , excuse me you haven't put your bra back on" said he. "Yeah, I know bugger isn't it, I'll just pop it in my bag, its OK", I replied with as much casualness as I could muster, trying to give the impression I regularly did this sort of thing. I hurriedly grabbed everything and almost ran out the room to wait the 10 minutes back in the waiting room. Of course, I then had to pop down to the concourse and grab myself a Tuna and Cheese Bake to help compose myself, making sure I didn't whip out my bra by mistake as I rummaged for my purse.
I might have cancer, things will get tough along the way, I hate parking at the hospital (I'm totally bad at parking and count myself lucky if I manage to get into the parking space first time). But I have found so much amusement at some of the things which have happened along the wayso far that it has kept me going. Oh and of course "Anyone for a Tuna and Cheese Bake".
Much luv
Sue xxx
