This week’s blog post is going to be brief as what I am writing about was a very brief encounter.
Oh, good grief Charlie Brown! No! Not that type of brief encounter.
Two weeks after diagnosis I met the consultant who was going to be my consultant and who got to have the immense privilege of being the one that removed bits out of me.
At this point I had been bounced between two hospitals like a tennis ball – Frimley Park Hospital and Royal Surrey County Hospital. At Frimley I had my colposcopy, my diagnosis and the MRI with lovely Eileen. At Royal Surrey is where I had my PET-CT, surgeries and where I will continue to have all my post-operative and continuing post- cancer care.
So far at this stage in the process I had been in both hospitals and met two different consultants. The Evil Demon consultant who performed the colposcopy, the blink-and-you’d-miss-him consultant that gave me the diagnosis and now I was about to meet the third. My consultant as I call him. Because he pretty much took over from now on (and I’m very glad about it)!
Other people may find that the consultant who diagnosed them or whose care they were originally under would be the one that they continue to see throughout their treatment. The reason why mine differed came down to the treatment I was being offered.
Remember waaaaaay back when, when I mentioned that my trachelectomy wasn’t offered around the UK as blanket treatment? That procedure depended on two things: –
Women in other parts of the UK that had the same as me in terms of eligibility criteria number one may not have received the same treatment as me. Simply based on eligibility criteria number two.
The Royal Surrey has equipment that can perform the operation plus a specialist (or two) that can perform the (still not widespread) procedure. I won the NHS postcode lottery. This is a harsh reality of our NHS.
I was transferred to St. Luke’s Cancer Centre in The Royal Surrey. Now I’ve got to say, it’s a lovely place. Very modern and clean and the nurses were wonderful. But never in my days did I think I would be heading into an Oncology unit as a patient. And never did I think it would be at my age. Checking into that electronic arrival system was moment #9 of surreal moments of my life.
The consultant pretty much explains what’s been happening to you so far. Again, you are aware due to being physically present through it all, but you nod along as it’s obviously something that they like to do. Mine had a lovely opening to the entire conversation, “nice to meet you, sorry it’s under these circumstances.” He got a ‘tick’ in the introduction sections of the Gerry Evaluation Sheet of Consultants.
I’m joking about that evaluation sheet by the way. Or am I…?
Then he went into what the plan was. This I liked. I feel much better when there’s a plan, mainly due to my being a massive control freak.
Side note: it is very hard being a control freak with cancer. It is very hard having cancer but let me inform you fellow control freaks now…..say goodbye to control. This isn’t your treatment. This is treatment that is done to you. You don’t have choice, you don’t have control. Jump when they say jump and show up when they tell you.
Be warned. You cease to be a proper human being during this time of your own life. You have become whatever it is they are taking out of you. I pretty much became a collection of lymph nodes and a cervix. For a woman who is very outspoken about a lot of things fertility related I found it so…. infuriating? Frustrating? I was reduced to my reproductive organs. Conversations were around my ability to bear the world multiple children but not necessarily my want.
Side side note: If you want to read speculative fiction about women being reduced to their reproductive abilities then you need to read this…
Amazing. Read it over ten years ago and it was written in 1985 and is still as relevant as ever. There is going to be a TV show out this year….
Seriously. Hyped.
Ok, side note over.
My consultant was brilliant and I honestly mean that. I wouldn’t want another (and it isn’t because he referred to me as lovely, though flattery helps). I won’t share his name publicly, even though all I have is praise, but if anyone is interested because they are going through similar and they are receiving treatment at The Royal Surrey then please ask.
The shocker came during the appointment (which was on Tuesday) when they told me that on Thursday I would be having my pelvic examination under anaesthetic plus my pelvic lymph nodes removed.
“What?” I said. “But that’s only two days away?!” To which they nodded. And that’s that. Remember above when I said lack of control etc. etc.? Show up when they tell you blah blah? Yeah. Welcome.
Here’s what I learnt that day: –
My final piece of advice is this: –
Back when I was young (so much younger than today) my last ever essay at University was on something called therapeutic rituals. This touched on something called ‘therapeutic alliance’ and the collaborative and affective bond between therapist (however this looks) and patient. Basically, if there is a positive and trusting relationship then the treatment outcome, or at least the perception of the treatment outcome is more likely to be positive.
In short if you like and trust your consultant then your outcome feels better. So, if you are uncomfortable or dislike the person treating you then find another. Now I know this may be hard in this type of situation and you may feel that you get given who you get given but people can choose or change their treating consultant. If there is a problem then I would suggest this: yell loudly and demand a change.
Now is not the time to retain your teachings from the Very British School of Maintaining a Stiff Upper Lip and Getting on with it Even Though You Really Don’t Like it and Wish You Could Change but You’re British and Don’t Complain About Anything Even if it’s About Your Own Cancer Treatment.
