Yesterday morning I had an appointment for scan, which are currently yearly. I really didn’t sleep well Saturday night thinking of my appointment at 10 in the morning. Since covid my scans have been in a porta cabin in the car park outside the main hospital. This comes with 2 car park spaces right outside the cabin, so all I had to worry about were the steep steps to get up to the cabin. The staff come out to meet you, and they are always very helpful, so wasn’t overly concerned about any of that, I just hate the scan! I hate the Canula, I hate the donut machine, and I hate the reminder that this is all I have to let me know what is going on inside my body.
The hospital is a good 45 minutes drive from our home, but thinking it was Sunday, we should be fine, so set off at 9.10. We had only been on the road for ten minutes when my phone rang. I knew straight away my appointment was cancelled. The scanner had “gone down” and they needed to reschedule. I explained that we are away in the morning for a week, a caravan holiday booked to take my mind off the results which are due a couple of days after I get back! Ok she says, leave it with me, I will call you back.
An hour passed and she called to say can you come now? Of course I said, so off we go again. Still come to the porta cabin she said, we will prep you here and take you over to the hospital. Perfect.
So I’m prepped, canula went in first time! God bless this young nurse, he’s a superstar! I’ll take you over he said, but sorry it’s a long trek. That’s ok I thought, it will take my mind off of the looming donut, and that awful moment when the dye goes in and you think you’ve wet yourself ! As we are walking through the hospital, past the eye unit, past the Macmillan centre, it suddenly dawned on me where we were going. One of the corridors that connects the eye hospital to the main hospital has old photos of years gone past on the walls. And there it was. My grandfather stood outside his shop before the war, when he was about 30, looking extremely handsome, full of life, before the threat to life came, before the prejudice of him being an Italian immigrant and the threat of being shipped off to an immigration camp when the war started. His shop was attacked, he was attacked, but he stayed strong and became a very much loved local character. I knew in that instant where my strength was from. I said a silent prayer, and went off to my scan, which was over in minutes, and I really don’t know why I get myself so worked up!!
So this morning I am off to Great Yarmouth. Never been there before so this will definitely take my mind off of things. Good luck to anyone who has scans, tests, treatments this week. I hope you find the strength from places you don’t know are there xx