Ok, so got lots of info, and on balance, pretty darn good really.... It's a long one though so prepare....and interval snacks are provided.
Of course, if you are Little My, just getting there is going to be an ordeal....
So, if you remember, my car has the orange, not red light on it and I think a hole in the exhaust but told its ok to get me the 90 mile round trip. ... (you just know what’s coming don’t you...!?)
So, whilst driving along the motorway, there is a knock on the door and lo and behold its Mr. Sod’s Law AGAIN and he says Ooooh look, your exhaust is falling off and clattering along behind you!!! Firstly, I would like to say that if I have offended anyone to the extent that they sticking needles in an effigy of me, I am very very sorry and didn’t mean it and please send Mr. Sod’s Law away.... (well, for a few days at least...)
So here I am on the hard shoulder, trying not to cry to the AA woman telling her I’ve got a hospital appointment and I’m on the hard shoulder in-between a junction and it’s a bit scary... and looking for the hospital number to tell them I am going to miss my appointment... and thinking Oh for F***’s sake, what have I done to deserve this one? This is getting too ridiculous for words... and you couldn’t make this up etc etc ....anyway, nice Traffic cop, (who I was hating 5 mins before for making me drive slowly) pulls up while I am on the phone to AA. I look round and he’s under the car, pulling the pipe off. Stick it in your boot he says and pretend you are a boy racer. Oh ok, I say... are you sure? Yeah just go to a garage on your way home... I’ll get you back out the junction and follow you for a bit to check you’re ok... better phone the AA back... press 1, press1, press1 press 1 press.. oh hi.. all ok etc. So, as I sometimes listened to my mum’s advice and always leave time for emergencies (and if you are me, it seems it is good advice) I am back down the motorway, being followed by a traffic cop for the right reason for once and actually get there just in time!!! No parking space, so drive round and round very loudly and finally get in and sit down.
Go to the lovely wrvs ladies for my cappuccino and the lid falls off the sugar dispenser and the entire contents falls in my coffee... (ouch! stop stabbing those needles in!)
Hmmm this isn’t a good omen for today. Have a laugh with the weighing nurse when she asks how my day is going and she says don’t they come in 3’s? And I’m thinking don’t say that when I am about to see the doc! She offers me a bib for my coffee and says she will escort me out so I don’t trip... one thing about having a specialist cancer hospital is that they all seem to have a good sense of humour and like a joke.
Nice blood lady gets blood first time – hoorah so a positive needle stabbing this time....
Of course, GC is running late... 2hours late because we are all swooning over him as usual and he has to scrape the ladies off the floor each time. As it is bum and bowel day, once again I am the only one there that is under the age of about 70.. good thing I guess but feels funny all the same...2 hours later...finally my name is called.... quake, quake.. don’t want this to be number 3...
........Interval......... snacks and drinks at the bar.....
So, having a tumour up your bum means that whatever you say is going to be a bit gross and personal so apologies to the squeamish...
On the couch... Compliments on my skin... nice healing and groin...(why, thank you kind sir...and might I say how handsome you are looking today) then the rolo moment....
You know the phrase hurts like b*ggery? Well it did (and it was only a finger before you start sniggering at the back). OUCH! He’s so sweet cos he always says sorry... so he stops because it’s too swollen and sore and he’s making it bleed but says ‘Well, it does feel better than it did which is not surprising though, because you had a hefty tumour up there’ Hefty? Don’t you know you don’t use words like that with ladies? Hefty? What about cuddly or big boned or something?! And I was thinking... swollen? It’s not swollen mate, its full of rolos... thought I would play safe and put the whole packet in... but kept that thought to myself of course.
So, upshot is he wants to try again in 5 weeks time and if it’s still too swollen etc then he will send me off to the very nice (but not gorgeous) consultant who did my op to have a feel/look/whatever he wants really I guess under anaesthetic...(ooh the treats just get better and better!) and in the meantime...he’s booked me in for a CT on my liver and a MRI on my bum.
So pluck up courage to ask him all my questions about futures etc... he says he is fairly confident about the liver (I hate that word fairly as depending on your mood you can hear it two ways can’t you... but I’m going for the fairly as in up there with good fairly) and if the liver is ok, then stats are about 70% on average (not bad eh? Get in!!) if it isn’t ok, well lets just say Sunny will beat me hands down... Then he says that if by sod’s law you are one of the 10% that it hasn’t gone away with the treatment... Whoah there mate...!! don’t say his name!!! He loves me!!! Then I get an op to remove it all and keep my bag. If it’s all ok then I get an op to say bye to baggy (though need to do some ‘continent tests’ first which I will spare you the details of for another occasion... I know, so kind...) So, ops are the name of the game...
As was on a roll, I thought I would ask him everything, so I now know my stage too... Not bad I guess.. was hoping for a 2 and worrying it was a 4 so plumped for a good ol 3 in the middle.... and he recommends phased return to work (oooh, told you so!! I hear you say... yeah yeah ok....) So a few more bits and pieces I won't bore you with (again too kind, I know)
'All very appropriate questions he says to me...' so I’m thinking has he been reading my blogs and was worrying what I might say?? and anyway... what’s an inappropriate question? ‘Do you want to play hunt the rolo ?’ perhaps?
So pretty good really (unless fairly confident about the liver goes the other way of course but it won’t for the next 5 weeks as far as I am concerned)and all I can say is imagine how much I am going to be bricking it in 5 week’s time... (cos I never learn of course) So watch out September 8th.. early psycho warning....
So VROOM my way home and P is just ranting and ranting about the house sale and and then ranting about solicitors even during me telling him how I got on (see why I go on my own now eh?) and the car is booked into not-so-quick fit tomorrow...and the cat is ok now but still runs away from the pheromone thingy and I celebrate with a chippy for tea and a can of coke (parp) so back to the lovely normal chaos of Little My’s life....
And if you see a bloke hanging around in a shiny suit called Mr S. Law... chase him off will you?
Drinks are on me if you are still breathing after that one...!
Little Myxxx
