Post 65: Good and Bad News
I don’t feel like writing much today — I’ve been left a little deflated after yesterday’s unexpected phone call from Dr S, my consultant cardiologist.
It was a surprise, in the best way, that he rang me back after the missed call during my time in A&E. I was genuinely bowled over that he followed through.
But I wasn’t quite ready for the content of his advice.
To cut to the chase: surgery isn’t on the cards for my severely leaky mitral valve.
Just medication. That’s it.
No option of surgery now, or ever.
And here’s the part that’s bothering me: I didn’t ask why.
I should have asked. I meant to.
But the moment passed, and five minutes after hanging up, a dozen questions hit me like a wave.
Why can’t I have surgery?
Why am I not a candidate?
I’m 61, not in terrible health besides the cancer and this valve.
So why not fix it?
I need to know. I need a second opinion. Again.
Not because I distrust the answer — but because I didn’t get a full one.
I was previously told by CCU that I’d be referred to the valve clinic after chemo. Has something changed? Or was that wishful thinking?
There’s just so much to carry and make sense of. I feel a bit worn down by it all today.
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The good news — and there is some — is that I now officially have a new cancer consultant.
And it turns out, even better, that she trained at the same faraway hospital where I got my second opinion. She still has close ties there and meets regularly with the team.
That’s a real silver lining.
Finally, a bit of joined-up thinking and a thread of continuity in the cancer side of things.
If only the cardiac side felt as connected. But I’ll take the wins where I find them.
———
My Darling, sensing the gloom, made me a very special cake to cheer me up — her first go at a sticky marmalade cake. And it was amazing.
Thank you, My Darling. Truly. That’s love baked into a sticky slice.
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Big Sis is coming for lunch tomorrow. That’ll be a bright spot.
A chance to have a good old moan and groan and get it off my chest.
Poor Sis, having to put up with me! But she does it with love and humour, and I’m grateful.
———
I’m tired. And worried.
It’s not easy to smile inside at the moment.
The smile on my face feels a bit painted on, and too easily washed away by tears.
Here’s hoping for a better day tomorrow.
Fingers crossed. xx
