Migration no 5 from 2018 - huge update!
Dates
Been to the Marsden today (with my minder) and have been booked in for surgery on Thursday 22nd November.
Apparently my surgeon is a Dutch lady who is a specialist in Robotics so be prepared for a change when you see me afterwards..... some sort of android resembling a young Jane Fonda would be the box I might tick.....
The Marsden is a remarkable place - the overriding impression I’ve come away with is how cancer is so “normalised” there.....
Ned and I did just manage time for a treat - cake for brunch in the Hummingbird cafe at South Kensington. Defeated by the portion size...even Ned.....
Now going for a nap. #knackered
Royal Marsden (posh branch)
Today’s the day I get to meet the team who are going to kick this uterus into touch (credit to Maria for the analogy)
Ned is coming with me to hold my hand, make me laugh, absorb information, create a major-league role reversal, and carry me out in the unlikely event that I might swoon...... ( we’ll quite possibly eat some very expensive South Ken food too before he goes off to the RCA to continue with his mysterious studies......) and then I shall come home...... before going out again with my surrogate sister Ali to see “a Star is Born”...... Peter thinks that this cancer lark is an excuse to enhance my social life because all I’ve done since getting this diagnosis is go out and have fun........ I think there’s a moral in there somewhere!
Looking forward to getting a date for the radical (makes me feel political) hysterectomy so that I can join an online group called the Hyster Sisters.... here we go
IN LIMBO ..... but feeling blessed
Here I am. October 28th (Denys’s birthday) and it’s 7.20 am (morning the clocks have gone back - I feel for all you peeps out there with small children) .... wait a minute! We’ve got one of those in our house today too. Zephy’s here! And Josh sent me a text to let me know he (Zephy’s Dad) was staying with a friend last night as was ‘stuck’ in London somewhere. The days have gone when I worry about the boys out in the big city on their own...I think that they’re big enough and ugly enough to look after themselves now!
Zephy managed to sleep through despite his dad not being there when he woke up, and is now chattering to Uncle Rupert (downstairs hungover on the sofa after only a few hours sleep, not realising I had made him up a bed in my soon-to-be-crafting room) and playing with a duck whose neck stretches and plays a lovely (annoying) tune.... and he’s discovered today “LOOK MUMPY! The duck’s head squeaks too when you press it!”....I now know why this duck was a bargain in the local charity shop. Rupert has now relocated to the made up bed, Grampy is on Zephy duty and I can continue with my blog in peace (having cleaned up Zephy who did a poo in his pull-ups - probably his innate response to discovering he was in his bedroom alone, with no parent, and no-one nagging him to go to the loo........)
SO - reflecting..... here goes:
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It’s 37 days ....... since I noticed a spot of bleeding. The day I was setting off to Cornwall to go to the Looe Music Festival with my old friends Ali and Sue - we were planning a weekend of childish and positively teenage behaviour. We did manage this, and my fun wasn’t spoiled by the irritating occasional spotting that I had for a few days.
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It’s 32 days ......... since my GP appointment when I mostly complained about my aching knees and mentioned I’d had this bit of bleeding. She said she’d refer me to Gynae Oncology as a matter of form, and not to worry when the letter came with an appointment .... “probably just a polyp”....
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It’s 18 days .......... since the appointment at Croydon University Hospital in Women’s Health when I had a transvaginal scan, and the lovely gynae nurse specialist with an Irish name (too many vowels) told me she could see some thickening in the endometrium, and it was “probably just a polyp”.....
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It’s 11 days ............ since I had a hysteroscopy under GA. I’d been looking forward to a nice, drug induced snooze, and then the reassurance from the doctor that it was “probably just a polyp” but that it had gone now.......... NO. This was not the case. The lovely doctor came to see me, sat on the edge of my bed, leaned forward and gently laid her hand on my forearm....... this was not feeling like a reassuring “just a polyp” speech.
“Madeleine. It looked very polypy in there. It looks like cancer”
Cancer?
CANCER?
How could this be? There’s no cancer in my family. A whole heap of other things, like fucking Friedreich’s Ataxia and cardiomyopathy. BUT NOT CANCER!
I was then offered another cup of tea (2 cups of tea on the NHS? Must be serious....) and then...I WAS VISITED BY THE MACMILLAN NURSE! Suddenly I had been catapulted into a play and was playing a part I hadn’t learnt the lines for.....
The MRI scan was ordered for three days from then, on a Saturday. SATURDAY!
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It’s 8 days ........ since my emergency Saturday MRI scan (“welcome to The CLUNKCLUNK Clunkety-clunk hotel California “ ..... see previous blog) and then another three days during which time I researched and researched and assimilated an awful lot of information.
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It’s 5 days .......... since I saw the lovely Dr Maha in Gynae outpatients when she broke the news (well, I knew anyway by now) that the histology and the MRI leads them to believe that I have Stage 1b, grade 2 endometrioid adenocarcinoma and that she was referring me as a matter of urgency to the Royal Marsden and all I could do was smile. Because this was music to my ears. I had discovered that 90 percent of uterine cancers are endometrioid adenocarcinoma- but the other 10 per cent are something much more sinister and much more scary..... so yes. I was relieved to be in that magic 90 per cent. I told Dr Maha about there not being any cancer in my family - but then also realised that my mother had died when I was 5, and her mother before her too had died when she was five...and I have no fucking idea whatsoever about that side of my family! My mother died when she dove into a swimming pool, pregnant, and had a PE.... I don’t know what happened to my maternal grandmother, no-one ever told me.
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In 2 days ...... I am going to the Royal Marsden with my son Ned in attendance (at least he’ll be able to carry me if I faint) to meet the team who are taking over my care. I hope that I’ll have a date for surgery so that we can get semi-organised.
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How am I feeling?
I am feeling blessed.
I feel so lucky that I mentioned to the GP that I’d had a spot of bleeding.
I feel so lucky that my uterus told me what was going on.
I am overwhelmed with the outpouring of love from family, friends and colleagues alike who are accompanying me on this journey, fingers and toes crossed , sharing stories of happiness and hope.
I am grateful for the constant messaging checking that I’m ok.
I am grateful to be a part of the workforce that is the NHS.
and ....... really grateful for this extra time off work. SORRY GIRLS!
And now I’m off to take my mad friend Denys out for breakfast to celebrate her birthday.
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