Tuesday 20th January
wow, what a great week I had last week - I wish I could share how good it has made me feel with everyone I know! No that’s wrong - I wish everyone could feel as happy as I am right now, and as well as I feel right now.
Monday I went to see my Great GP, [I love my eccentric GP] as it has been niggling me that in the States, they send you for a mammogram if you have had OC. OC and breast cancer are quite closely linked and that makes me a bit nervy.
In the UK you are only entitled to have a mammogram free after you turn 50 - there is a sensible reason for this, as apparently the breast tissue 'thickens' after you hit menopause, and until that happens the mammogram is not much use. As I am now in menopause, albeit surgical, I asked him to send me for one. No problemo, says the Great GP. So, viola! I have a breast crushing experience to look forward to. Can’t be as bad as being hacked in half, so I am not concerned. Better that than getting surprise breast cancer.
Monday night, off to circuit training. Groan. But I am improving, and I am definitely noticing a difference in my energy levels. And I have a semblance of stomach muscles!!
Tuesday - the Dreaded Day. The bloody check up. That was at 3.00, so I had the whole day to wait, but it was a mad day, as I seemed to run from pillar to post organising a zillion things; check in on-line for Frankfurt the next day [another new experience - so cool! you can download your boarding pass! brilliant, no waiting!]. Find the passport and the letter. Do some work. Order some groceries so Aj doesn’t have to live on rice while I am gone. Etc.
Eventually arrived at the time, Jones was waiting outside in his speedy van to zoom me to the hospital. That was unplanned so it threw me and I left the car unlocked I was in such a hurry. Got there - no parking - aaargh stress, swear etc. I jumped out and left Aj to it. So of course he found a spot almost straight away. It was quick this time! Last time we waited about 2 hours. Which I don’t mind [I seem to go into Zen mode once I am actually there], but nicer to be in and out.
This time I saw Mr Renninson. My beloved surgeon. Dr Hong had sensibly done a runner. Mr Renninson ate a lot of Christmas dinner I think, as he is looking a tad portly [strange what you notice!]. He marched in and the first thing he said was 'your CA 125 is 6'. So casual! SIX??? I was so pleased I almost fell off the bed, knickers or no knickers! As for Jones, well I would love to have a photo of his face at that moment. Really that’s when you know how much someone loves you - the total relief there was shocking.
Anyway, Renninson did the physical exam [NOT as thorough as Hong, but I won't bore you with the technical details and I am sure he knows what he’s doing]. He then pronounced: "right, you’re ok, you can bugger off". What? I had a million questions! And what was an eminent surgeon doing saying 'bugger' anyway? I managed to remember one, and had him in fits. One of the girls in the group we have started on Facebook [marvellously named by our Tracey; ScAaaarrrggghhh!! Tissue – heh heh] told us all that when they do the full hysterectomy / oopherectomy, the vagina then becomes like a sock. It's not attached, and could be yanked inside out if they didn't sew it to other things!! Yuck. What a thought.
wow, what a great week I had last week - I wish I could share how good it has made me feel with everyone I know! No that’s wrong - I wish everyone could feel as happy as I am right now, and as well as I feel right now.
Monday I went to see my Great GP, [I love my eccentric GP] as it has been niggling me that in the States, they send you for a mammogram if you have had OC. OC and breast cancer are quite closely linked and that makes me a bit nervy.
In the UK you are only entitled to have a mammogram free after you turn 50 - there is a sensible reason for this, as apparently the breast tissue 'thickens' after you hit menopause, and until that happens the mammogram is not much use. As I am now in menopause, albeit surgical, I asked him to send me for one. No problemo, says the Great GP. So, viola! I have a breast crushing experience to look forward to. Can’t be as bad as being hacked in half, so I am not concerned. Better that than getting surprise breast cancer.
Monday night, off to circuit training. Groan. But I am improving, and I am definitely noticing a difference in my energy levels. And I have a semblance of stomach muscles!!
Tuesday - the Dreaded Day. The bloody check up. That was at 3.00, so I had the whole day to wait, but it was a mad day, as I seemed to run from pillar to post organising a zillion things; check in on-line for Frankfurt the next day [another new experience - so cool! you can download your boarding pass! brilliant, no waiting!]. Find the passport and the letter. Do some work. Order some groceries so Aj doesn’t have to live on rice while I am gone. Etc.
Eventually arrived at the time, Jones was waiting outside in his speedy van to zoom me to the hospital. That was unplanned so it threw me and I left the car unlocked I was in such a hurry. Got there - no parking - aaargh stress, swear etc. I jumped out and left Aj to it. So of course he found a spot almost straight away. It was quick this time! Last time we waited about 2 hours. Which I don’t mind [I seem to go into Zen mode once I am actually there], but nicer to be in and out.
This time I saw Mr Renninson. My beloved surgeon. Dr Hong had sensibly done a runner. Mr Renninson ate a lot of Christmas dinner I think, as he is looking a tad portly [strange what you notice!]. He marched in and the first thing he said was 'your CA 125 is 6'. So casual! SIX??? I was so pleased I almost fell off the bed, knickers or no knickers! As for Jones, well I would love to have a photo of his face at that moment. Really that’s when you know how much someone loves you - the total relief there was shocking.
Anyway, Renninson did the physical exam [NOT as thorough as Hong, but I won't bore you with the technical details and I am sure he knows what he’s doing]. He then pronounced: "right, you’re ok, you can bugger off". What? I had a million questions! And what was an eminent surgeon doing saying 'bugger' anyway? I managed to remember one, and had him in fits. One of the girls in the group we have started on Facebook [marvellously named by our Tracey; ScAaaarrrggghhh!! Tissue – heh heh] told us all that when they do the full hysterectomy / oopherectomy, the vagina then becomes like a sock. It's not attached, and could be yanked inside out if they didn't sew it to other things!! Yuck. What a thought.
I was very sceptical of this, but promised the girls I’d ask about it, and so I did. Renninson’s face - hilarious! I am sure I was his tea break 'spazzo patient story'. He told me in no uncertain terms that that was not true. His final words were: "that’s a load of bollocks". Ok, don't mince your words there R! He was obviously on a roll that day. Full of cheeky remarks. Apparently [and obviously] the vagina is attached to lots of other things anyway, so there’s no need for them to sew it to anything else. Good show! Right, off we went, great relief. To say the least. Rang Mumsy with the good news, text all my friends the same and off home.
Right - out of there and off to Bristol to stay overnight with my darling Godmother. Had a superb dinner, and a lovely evening - up at 5.00am to go to Frankfurt and she even drove in front of me so I could find the airport in the dark. Such a darling. What can I say - I was still delirious from the results the day before, so likely would have ended up in Brazil. Thank you sweetie.
And THAT was all nice!!
Right - out of there and off to Bristol to stay overnight with my darling Godmother. Had a superb dinner, and a lovely evening - up at 5.00am to go to Frankfurt and she even drove in front of me so I could find the airport in the dark. Such a darling. What can I say - I was still delirious from the results the day before, so likely would have ended up in Brazil. Thank you sweetie.
And THAT was all nice!!
SIX???? WOW! I am so happy for you!!!! :) That is a wonderful number!
ReplyDeletePhew!! so we're not held together with elastic bands then?
ReplyDeleteThats great news, i imagined walking around like a Thunderbird puppet, twanging away as i walked!!
Maaaarvelous news xxx