Friday, 26 February 2010

this is SO irritating. why are we so ignorant?

For me, it's hard to believe, but most women are STILL ignorant of the signs of ovarian cancer.

I suppose because it's a vivid reality for me, I want everyone to know about it. BEFORE they get it. BEFORE they are at Stage 3. Or even Stage 2. I want everyone educated about ovarian cancer – not the fact that 'I've had it'; no, no, that's not the point of this blog at all [although everyone knows that already as I am such a blabbermouth on here] – I want them to know the SYMPTOMS of ovarian cancer. I want to make a difference. Even if this blog helps ONE single woman get diagnosed early, well, that would make my day. Plus it would make all this blasted typing worthwhile!

It drives me mad. I worry about all the young girls I see with big alcopop bellies hanging over their low slung jeans – simply because that kind of weight can lead to not noticing things like the lump I had in my groin. If I'd been fatter, I wouldn't have seen it at all. That would have spelt disaster and probably death for me. My tumour was quite advanced. Imagine – you'd have been spared this continual blathering monologue!

I worry too about all those women running around who are simply Too Busy to notice the warning signs. I was. I ignored my body, which was yelling at me. They may end up like me. Diagnosed late. Or worse. Diagnosed TOO late. After all, I have been very lucky [she knocks 3 times on wood!]. I am in remission. But having been treated quite late in the day, the risk of recurrence is higher for me than if I had been diagnosed earlier. The cancer had spread from my ovary to my bowel and my omentum. Here's the Beast Itself. Repulsive isn't it??


The earlier the treatment, the more positive the long term outlook.

We STILL haven't got enough publicity – we STILL aren't out there enough – women STILL don't know that this vicious cancer is the 4th most virulent type of cancer; it kills 4,500 women in the UK annually, four times as many as die from cervical cancer. Which everyone knows about.

I think part of the problem is we keep bloody well dying. Well, we have got to stop that. There must be more survivors to tell everyone else. And the way to do that is education.

Some poll or the other [who do they speak to eh?] has found that almost one in three women (29%) mistakenly think that a smear test will pick up signs of ovarian cancer. I beg to differ – I think that we [generally] as women, assume that the smear test actually will pick up anything cancery at all. I think I thought that. Having had a smear test annually since my late teens [before I lived in the UK] I sort of 'assumed' that was my annual M.O.T. I didn't think about it – and certainly no-one told me about it in any way that impinged on my consciousness.

SEE THE SYMPTOMS HERE. Read it, and think about it. It could save your life. Much quicker to read and digest these little factoids, than to sit around for months in chemo.

Make yourself aware so that you have the chance to catch ovarian cancer early and vastly increase your chance of survival. Three times as many women could survive if it was diagnosed at the earliest possible stage.

If you regularly have difficulty doing up your trousers and perhaps look like you could be pregnant, maybe have persistent tummy pain [I didn't] and feel full or have difficulty eating, get checked out. They are common symptoms but when they happen on most days, make your GP aware of what is happening to you. And INSIST!! Do not be fobbed off with painkillers. We know our bodies and we should listen to them.

If all else fails, and your GP doesn't want to listen, try the new OvPlex™ test. Peace of mind, or early detection - cheap at the price.

Thursday, 25 February 2010

ovarian cancer test and BEAT

Yesterday was a bit mad – I heard about OvPlex™, the new diagnostic test for ovarian cancer from Simon. We were discussing his ride and the logos to go on his bike. They are one of his sponsors. After he left I decided to see if it was in the news. Er – no. Not anything sensible anyway. You'd think it would be wouldn't you?

Then I found their web site. Yay me. I read it, thought it an excellent piece of news that needed to be spread, and decided that it was a bit technical to reinterpret. Therefore I copied all their text into a blog post [with references! ooooh], then tweeted it. Yes, I am actually starting to comprehend Twitter at LAST!


Ten minutes later poor Simon rang me and asked me to please call OvPlex as they needed to speak to me about the blog post, and I needed to remove it. I had visions of being locked away for plagiarism, and deleted everything at lightning speed! Blog, Tweet, Facebook blog… [AAARGH!] I also had visions of Simon wondering if he ought to beat me about the head with a cycle pump…anyway…

Rang them post haste, and it turns out their site only went 'live' yesterday, and basically Google search engines would find me before them, as I'd filched their article almost word for word. Uff! I felt terrible, but luckily for me the chap was most understanding, very kind and everything turned out ok. He quite understood how excited I was about such a brilliant test. Actually, we had a nice chat. So!!

If you would like to know about the new diagnostic test for ovarian cancer, please go HERE and read the article. :o) You can order it on-line for £275.00. Seems a lot of money doesn't it? But I'd have paid it if it would have helped me avoid surgery, chemotherapy and sundry other crap.

And, NO, I'm NOT tweeting this!! I am astounded at how fast info travels mind you – it's amazing.

Today I am mainly getting excited about Ovacome's Awareness Launch in March. Ovacome will gain maximum exposure in the national press with a major launch called BEAT which will put ovarian cancer firmly on the radar of women and their GPs. Yippee! Watch this space…

Tuesday, 23 February 2010

charity auctions for ovarian cancer

See Chloe's post here: I have stolen some of it, as I like it. :o)

cupcakes Her new LBC charity of the year is Ovacome; Chloe's mother died of Ovarian cancer in 2003 after being diagnosed in 2002 with ovarian cancer stage 4. After 2 years of going to the doctor with unrecognised symptoms.

If you don't know the symptoms of Ovarian Cancer it is easy to mistake them for IBS or pregnancy or just  ignore then entirely as you are too busy to nip to the GP.

Ovarian Cancer is the fourth most common cancer in women, making it quite rare, and it doesn't get enough press. If you ask the majority of people what the symptoms of ovarian cancer are, they probably wouldn't know. I certainly didn't until I was diagnosed myself.

Ovacome have come up with the following acronym to help recognise the symptoms:

The BEAT Campaign

B is for BLOATING – persistent bloating, it doesn't come and go
E is for EATING - difficulty eating, and feeling full more quickly
A is for ABDOMINAL - abdominal and pelvic pain felt most days
T is for TALK - to your doctor. As soon as you can!

I didn't have any pain at all, but definitely bloated, got full up very quickly, and got VERY VERY tired [not all the time, but in sudden attacks of sheer exhaustion]. And I was 'too busy' to go to the GP.

Chloe has pledged to do at least 2 charity auctions on eBay (where 100% of the money goes directly to the charity), another charity raffle in march (Ovarian cancer awareness month) and also give a % of the profits from her card sales. She really wants to get to £50.00, so buy your cards from her here! Maybe she can get to £500!


Saturday, 20 February 2010


CAKE is an American Indie band from Sacramento, California. OR, it's often the dessert of choice for meals at ceremonial occasions, particularly weddings, anniversaries, and birthdays. It's also a London based PR company…

But OUR cake, 'Fall for Me', WON the Kelly's Bake Off competition!! Way to go Laura and the team! What a brilliant way to raise funds for ovarian cancer research. My friend Julie will be delighted :o)

One of the team is from the Iron Cupcake. Check it out here.


Thursday, 18 February 2010

the last 2 weeks

I've been trying to be sensible and not do anything too strenuous [no circuit training – boo!], and I've been voting for cakes every day [yes, we are WINNING!! woo hoo! thanks all my friends who've been voting!] and NOT being Ninja Cancer Girl, so this has been a fabulous 2 weeks! I am totally in the zone of NOT having cancer. Just go and vote please…

Click the box to sign up and vote:
vote for me


Anyway - what? Oh yes – the last two weeks. First, the wounds in my tummy went all viciously red and sore. I mean REALLY sore – so I got a tad peeved with THAT scenario. I remembered from my last lot of so called 'dissolvable' stitches…they don't. Dissolve that is.

The body is supposed to recognise a foreign object and destroy it. My body is idiotic and doesn't seem to get the idea. We know that from the hellish tumour – wouldn't it destroy THAT if it knew what it was supposed to do? Confused dot com.

So I decided to remove them myself. Ugh! That was a rather shaky and sweaty experience to say the least! The skin had grown over  the stitches, so getting the scissors in 'just' the right place [in order not to cause bloodshed] was a bit tricky. But suffice to say, I removed all four stitches with no mishaps. Phew. Instant relief and now everything is healing up a charm. I am already using the Rosehip seed oil, so hopefully I won't have additional scars.

In the meantime, I managed to stub four toes before breakfast, rip one [long] fingernail off at the quick [aaargh – blood!], cut the back of my hand [ no I don't know what happened there at all] and smash my shin on the mum's tuck trunk we have as a side table in the lounge. BIG scab there. Yippee – a normal few things!

And I am really into helping this chap who is doing a 6,000 mile solo cycle ride intended to raise research funds and awareness about ovarian cancer. WHAT a cool dude! See his site here. More about that in the next post. And I am getting involved with a brilliant fellow who makes eco furniture – so cool. Everything Rick makes is sustainable and original. Beds, tables, boxes…superbly creative stuff, lovely to be considered as a part of his concern.  And also getting a bit involved with Killer Paint – really talented airbrushing. This man can paint anything at all. He is a true artist – and needs a good marketing person ;o)

And of course I am still looking for paying work [pay would be good!]. But, all told, a great start to MY new year – which really began once we got the biopsy result. At last it's sunk in!!

Monday, 15 February 2010

please vote and spread the word? only 5 days left!

I know a lot of you go on the Kelly Confidential site already. Sending virtual cakes all over the place to raise funds for Ovarian Cancer Research. Each day you send a cake to a friend, Electrolux donates $1 to the Ovarian Cancer Research Fund, and you're automatically entered for a chance to win a new induction range.

BUT!! Tadaah – when you go there now, you can ALSO vote for my friend the Cooking Photographer. Laura has just been to New York, met Kelly Ripa and made a fabulous cake with her team. There's even a video, so we can see what she looks like.

Check out the smashing cake! I can't post the video, but you will see it on the site.

cakephotograph by Laura Flowers

Will you vote for Laura's cake "Fall for Me" please? There are only five days left. When you vote you’re entered to win an Electrolux range, and even better than that, $1.00 [0.64 GBP] goes to fight ovarian cancer every time a vote is cast. You can vote once a day until it’s over.

Click the box to sign up and vote:
vote for me

Hope to see the range in your kitchen soon Laura! :o)  Here's Laura and the team:

cooking photographer

Saturday, 13 February 2010

being a ninja

11Image: azuzephre//jeff thomas

You know I already mentioned how hard it is to accept good news? Well, it gets easier.

The last few days I seem to have been in a daze – after thinking for weeks [yes, yes, I know it was stupid – assuming things always is] that I was in for a recurrence, now I am in this parallel universe where I am so happy! So. No. Not a daze. A surreal state? You who have followed the blog for ages will know very well that I am not a person who 'does' surreal – I like to be completely in the here and now. I like to be right up there with the facts. But this is something else. It's like a weight has been literally lifted off my shoulders.

Sounds prosaic right? But it's true. I can't think of ANYTHING in my life that has made me happier than knowing the cancer hasn't come back. And to be honest, I have had a LOT of wonderful things happen in my short life. But none of them would have the effect that a return of cancer would have had on me and mine.

The thing is, this isn't just about me. It's about the FH too. And my family; my friends. That is one of the reasons this is so great. I was so worried – imagine them having to go through all this AGAIN because of me. Uff. No thanks. I am tired of pretending that everything is ok. Being Ninja Cancer Girl gets boring after a few years…nice to actually really FEEL ok. And mean it.

So – I am feeling on top of the world!! Mainly for both of us – me and the FH. Because now we have time. There's ALWAYS going to be the worry of a recurrence – but  it doesn't happen like lightning. And to be clear in the first 2 years is very  encouraging.

I appear to be in remission. OMG!! It's the most amazing feeling. At last. Long may it go on!! Ad nauseum if possible? And thank you SO much all of you who have been, and still are, there for me. Your support means the world to me. Thank you.

But thank you most of all to my wonderful, amazing husband. You are the BEST thing that ever happened to me.

Thursday, 11 February 2010

biopsy results

GOOD NEWS FOR ME!! Gail called me today with the biopsy results; apparently Renninson was trying to get hold of me all day yesterday but I was at an exhibition with the FH. Pretty cool that he wanted to speak to me himself [that would be because I am his Favourite Patient heh heh – love that].

I suppose it must be a treat for Renninson to have good news to share, as I would imagine he has to make a LOT of really difficult phone calls, telling people bad news. Like the call I had from him in December – which, happily, is now the past. Although I still remember exactly how I felt at that moment. A horrible cold empty feeling. Then a mad rush of emotion; mainly fright and worry. Which we lived with until I had the laparoscopy last Monday. Pretty exhausting to be that worried all that time.

But that doesn't matter now, as the result is: ALL CLEAR, NO CANCER! As Renninson said initially; and I believed him, but this additional reassurance is fantastic.

Apparently he did a peritoneal biopsy, and the suspicious thing was 'pieces of fibroadipose tissue'. Well. Bloody fibroadipose [fibroadipose: fi·bro·ad·i·pose (fī'brō-ād'ə-pōs') adj.Relating to or containing both fibrous and fatty structures.] tissue should just stop with it's BS of looking weird! In fact, it could fuck right off would be good!! Anyway [calm calm] - the biopsy report states: 'pieces of fibroadipose tissue without malignancy'. WITHOUT MALIGNANCY – blessed words for any cancery type.

This is some of that fibroadipose tissue. Looks like a party animal for sure. I am seeing far too much of my innards recently.


I feel so lucky – it COULD have been a recurrence [and my life would have been completely different]; the odd thing is that because I was diagnosed almost exactly 2 years ago in February, and because everything happened again in February [the surgery, results etc], I feel almost 'undiagnosed'. Hard to explain, [and silly superstition] but as ovarian cancer is most likely to recur within the first 2 years, I was almost resigned to a recurrence. And hated February. How stupid am I?

We are just so pleased - we have gone WILD and we're having pizza and wine to celebrate - the FH trundled off to get it :o) And we have a big fire and life is good! Now just to heal properly [still have a belly full of stitches] and get a job!


Oh yes – I had to cancel the mammogram last Friday – driving to the RD&E for a procedure TWICE in one week would have just been too much for my teeny brain – but I already have another appointment for April 30th. Efficient eh? But I'll have to change that too, as I have the Target Ovarian Cancer Roadshow! Such a busy little bee…

Sunday, 7 February 2010


Ow! This is getting old fast – the bruising on my tummy is coming OUT with a vengeance.

Yesterday I removed the itchy dressings; that made me feel a bit ill. Ugh. The dressings caused some kind of allergic reaction which is normal for me. My skin doesn't like hospital sticky things, no matter where they put them.

The stitches are poking out of the wounds! The one in my navel is the worst one – looks as if it has one vertical cut, then two horizontal ones. Or maybe the horizontal ones are the stitches? Who knows - all I know is it hurts like a bugger! I've stopped taking painkillers, as it's not that bad, but a bruise is a bruise, and I feel like I was kicked by a buffalo. Plus I am a wimp. I keep wondering what it must look like inside? Ugh.

The middle one is where they stabbed in the air thing – it's rather unnerving to read that they can't see ANYTHING until they have actually put these great big metal things IN. Hence the risk of perforated organs. Hmm…what fun.

As you can no doubt see, my tummy looks worse now than it did when I came home. And actually it feels worse too. But no doubt this time next week it'll be back to normal. Hooray. Can't wait, as I can't do circuit training or anything else much for that matter. And I've already cleaned, dusted and washed just about everything. Such excitement…I say! And actually, I am really looking forward to having no pain – hard to imagine, after having the adhesions for two years.

Today's colourful belly


Saturday, 6 February 2010

SHINE: Saturday the 17th April '10


Hey – bloggers one and all – check this out! Last week a person called Cally emailed me with a view to getting me involved with Shine; getting the word out about this new event that Cancer Research UK have come up with. They have already dropped me a link on their site here – see the blog roll, bottom right. I am just waiting for them to remove my NAME [er – why would I want my name on the internet??] and replace it with the blog title…

Cally works with Cancer Research UK on behalf of an agency called 1000Heads. 1000 heads? one THOUSAND? How do they ever make a decision?  hmm. Anyway.

Shine is a night-time fundraising walk through Manchester. It’s unique in that it allows people to directly support one of twelve types of  cancer  [unfortunately for all the other types of cancer?], or there's an option to support the general work of  Cancer Research UK – this is including ovarian cancer [handily], which is obviously of  particular interest to me.  It’s also the first time Cancer Research UK  are using social media heavily around an event. Given that people from beyond Manchester - like  me [and lots of you!] – may not be able to make the event they’d still love to get us involved, by simply helping spread the word online or offline.

That's where you all come in. By the way, if you're a 'Twitterer' [is there such a thing? well, there is now – I am a dictionary unto myself…] type into twitter the hashtag #shine2010 - you will see some of the things people are tweeting about Shine.

Cally has asked me to do a 'guest' post, just about cancery stuff. No problemo! She has also promised to dedicate a post to ovarian cancer awareness month and find out who is walking in support of this cause [probably not me if I manage to get arrested for sitting on my roof in teal underwear…].

So. Help me spread the word would you? Saturday the 17th April is the Shine walk in Manchester. I might be there…then again I might not ;o)

practicing freedom


Heidi gave me this quote today, in celebration of my news that I am free of cancer. Thought provoking.

"To begin depriving death of its greatest advantage over us, let us adopt a way clean contrary to that common one; let us deprive death of its strangeness, let us frequent it, let us get used to it; let us have nothing more often in mind than death... We do not know where death awaits us: so let us wait for it everywhere."

"To practice death is to practice freedom. A man who has learned how to die has unlearned how to be a slave."

Michel de Montaigne

I think I have unlearned how to be a slave…

Friday, 5 February 2010

still thinking

today's been a bit better –it's odd, before the laparoscopy I didn't really think about the after effects other than the obvious ones; did I have a recurrence, didn't I have a recurrence, and the little Brain Rats were going: 'you do, you do!! snigger snigger'. So I was waking up every day and night for weeks and weeks, thinking I probably had a recurrence. But going through the days absolutely positive that I didn't have one. This is the difference between my conscious and my sub-conscious minds. The conscious mind seems to have a far better grasp on How To Stay Sane. Whereas the sub-conscious seems to have no bloody idea and just tries to drive you mad as a hatter.

So I hadn't considered how long I would take to get back to normal [that seems so be a repeating refrain with all cancery types – when am I going to Get Back to Normal??]. Hmm – seems those days are long gone and I now have a new normality. But never mind that – what I mean is, I didn't think about this as being surgery. So I didn't consider the 'getting better' bit much.

Yesterday I finally had a chat with Gail. She said I can take off the dressings as of now, if I want to. Tomorrow they are coming off, as they are starting to ITCH. And she said I need to take it easy for three weeks. THREE WEEKS??  One week is gone almost, so just two left. Not so bad. She pointed out that even though I seem to have 'just' three little holes in me, which will soon heal up, Renninson had a field day rummaging about in there, cutting and prodding things. So there will be bleeding and bruising. Inside. Ugh. So I refuse to carry the Hoover up the  stairs. :o)

Early last night was horrendous – the post surgery wind kicked in and I felt like I was merely two arms, two legs and a head hanging off a torso with a mind of it's own. Shoulder pain, neck pain and a very sore tummy. And feeling quite delirious. So I went to bed full of painkillers for MORE sleep!

Today I only took the painkillers in the morning and I've been ok so far – the bruising is coming out and  still have a bloated painful tummy, but it's a lot less painful that's for sure. Did some housework and pottered about. Another early night for me!

Oh, and I DO wish  could get used to / believe this fabulous news!! It's so surreal – it seems easy to accept bad news, so why can't I accept the good news the same way?  I think the biopsy report will do it. Black and white and all that. But I don't understand why it still hasn't sunk in. Think I'm a bit thick??

Thursday, 4 February 2010

scar oil

I am not sure if I have posted this before, but [at the risk of being boring] this is the oil I use on my scar. Rosehip Seed oil [now sold as Rosehip oil for some obscure reason].

Originally I had a different one from a friend in Portugal, but I couldn't source it here once it ran out, so I had to change to this one, and it's brilliant; it doesn't stay on the surface of skin but sinks straight in. And it does seem to work, although as far as I can work out, the actual 'massaging' of the oil into the [healed] scar and the surrounding area helps the skin to flatten and whiten. It's not just the oil that gives the result.

"The massaging is an important part of the process and assists in breaking down scar tissue while increasing circulation to the scar site."

I think it originated in Brazil – and you know what the Brazilians are like for beauty stuff…


day 3 gets scabby

Today I am a bit less sleepy headed. I've cut the painkillers by half [not completely, as last time I did that I got ill plus a resounding ear bashing from all concerned]. So it's all still hurting but it's a 3 on a scale of 1 – 10. Negligible. Like really stiff muscles with the occasional sharp stab for reminding me not to be stupid. The bit that hurts the most is the entry wound in my navel – where they blew me up like a balloon. I shudder to think about what one looks like on the operating table – a beached puffer fish?

Anyway, I am still wondering when I can take these bandages off. I don't really like wounds to be covered up, as they can get up to mischief if you can't see them. Although I am a bit squeamish about my own wounds – don't really like looking at them too much. Whereas if it's someone else's, no problem at all. Odd.

I have actually worked out that they do seem to be waterproof dressings, but one of them has no dressing so what about that one? I wish they'd write instructions on your tummy. Arrow: wash this one. Arrow: leave this one alone. Arrow: no, that's not a wound it's a bit of fluff, put your glasses on fool.

Another thing I have been wondering is if the adhesions will come back. So I sallied forth into cyber space and found an interesting article here, that says "In order to reduce the risk of further adhesion formation, we prefer to operate with a laparoscope and very fine instruments". Good. That's what he's done, so crossed fingers they will remain banished [I rather like 'vaporised' actually].

I was going to put some pictures of Diathermy here, but they made me feel sick, so you're spared that. Gross. BUT I thought I'd share the new scabby bits. As averse to the old scabby bits – actually, for those of you about to be operated on [I think we all worry about the scarring afterward] you can see the original scar here, it's pretty amazing the improvement; and here are the three new perforations…the old scar looks pretty neat right?

See what I mean about the one at the bottom though? No dressing. And it looks like some boy scout took his Handy Craft Knife and carved 'x' marks the spot! Quite hilarious taking pictures of your own stomach I might add…plus you can see everything a lot better on the computer screen. Is this a good thing I wonder??


Wednesday, 3 February 2010

today is Rockwell's birthday

Like yesterday, today I mostly slept all day. I still have lots of pain in my tummy, so I am just doing stuff around the house at a steady pace, doing a bit of stretching and scribbling on here. Oh, and did I mention sleeping?

Called Gail at the RD&E today to find out when I can remove the dressings from the wounds, as Grumpy Nurse didn't say. I don't like the thought of them mouldering away under there and I am not sure what the story is with the glue. One of the wounds has no dressing at all, and is just a bloody hole on my existing scar? Yuck. It seems to have been glued...but who knows? I'll find out tomorrow.

Useless factoid of the day: today was Norman Rockwell's birthday. Rockwell was a 20th century American painter and illustrator. I love his illustrations.


In the United States, Rockwell is most famous for the cover illustrations of everyday life scenarios he created for The Saturday Evening Post magazine.

Norman thought of himself first and foremost a commercial illustrator. Hesitant to consider it art, he harboured deep insecurities about his work. What is unmistakable, however, is that Rockwell tapped into the nostalgia of a people for a time that was kinder and simpler. Norman Rockwell's now nostalgic paintings and illustrations continue to live on in American history, depicting decades of pleasantry and pain.

Couldn't resist!

Tuesday, 2 February 2010

update part 02

So you'll remember me nattering on about the constant pain in my left side. Which we thought was a 'backed up' bowel. Well, as Renninson was going in there anyway, he said he'd have a look to see if he could sort that out. The main worry was that due to existing scar tissue, he wouldn't be able to see anything and we might have to resort to open surgery again. Noooo!

But luckily, he [report wording] "had a good view of the pelvis". Yay – I am so glad. Being filled up with air for no good reason would have been a tad peevish. It turned out to be an adhesion causing a 'loaded left colon, adherent across the anterior pelvis and to the right pelvic side wall'.

Here's a picture of the bowel being pushed against the wall of my pelvis by a revolting looking adhesion. Looks rather throttled – Renninson said it was causing what amounts to a kink in my bowel, plus it was stuck to the pelvic wall.laparoscopy 01A

Here it is after the adhesion has been cut away. No wonder it hurt so much.

laparoscopy 01B

The rest of the report went so: "Normal peritoneum across rest of abdomen" [this is a GOOD thing!]. And this is the interesting bit: "Small bowel loop adherent to RIGHT pelvic side wall at the site of the Abnormality on the Scan. No peritoneal abnormality below adhesions." So the Abnormality was also caused by an adhesion! Ha!! And double ha!

This is that bit. The Suspicious Object.

laparoscopy 02A

So he divided all the adhesions, mobilised the bowel and freed the small loop from the right wall of my pelvis. Then he took a peritoneal biopsy from the site of the Abnormality. Which we shall hear about in a few weeks when I have my oncologists appointment.

Apparently I have dissolvable stitches and GLUE holding me together at the moment. Hmm. No-one actually told me when I can take the dressings off.

Interestingly, as I was leaving I was told by the ward nurse that I could have a shower as the dressings are waterproof. They don't look very waterproof to me, and as that same nurse told me I would bleed heavily for two weeks due to the blue dye they inserted into my uterus…well, I don't actually have much faith in her at all. I don't HAVE a uterus!

And good job I knew about the blue dye BEFORE I went in [thanks www] or I would have had a heart attack when I went to the toilet after the surgery. So today I managed a bath without getting my dressings wet, as I was covered in iodine and blood. Yuck! Too delirious to risk it last night, and it took ages as I was worried about falling unconscious in the water - but I feel much better now.

This same nurse was a right grump, and as I had been there longer than her, was more tired than her, had just had surgery and wanted some sensible answers, she's quite lucky I didn't batter her with a bedpan.

But at the end of the day, what a brilliant result. Once the biopsy confirms that it isn't cancer at all, then we will seriously celebrate.

I don't think I've ever been so stressed as the last few weeks. So glad THAT'S over. Now just to heal up and oh, Friday I have a mammogram! Hahaha – never ends…

update part 01

First thing is, it's GOOD news! Second; this will probably be a bit fragmented. I am still full of anaesthetic and pain killers. So I will write between sleeping. I have to walk about a bit, as much as I'd like to stay in bed all day so trundling up and downstairs to my office seems good exercise. Just have to go slowly. So many people have asked for an update, and here is the easiest place to tell everyone all in one go. Between nodding off!

Yesterday. We arrived at the hospital at 8.00. My surgery was scheduled for 3.00. No eating after 7.30, no drinking after 11.00. The Ward Nurses were not happy; I could have gone in at 11.00, as it was I sat in the waiting room for 4 hours before they could put me in the Day Ward. Then another 3 hours in there. Happily I met a lovely woman and we chatted all morning, so the time went quite quickly. She was on the same schedule as me, except her surgery was at 1.30.

Yawn. Time for a kip.

In the Day Ward we got into our hospital gowns [a new, sort of oriental design that covers your butt – thoughtful!] and the snazzy white DVT knee socks. There were 10 of us all sitting next to our beds. It seemed confusing as there were two women supposedly first on the list. Hmm – then a major frenzy occurred at about 12.30. Anaesthetists and surgeons descended upon us like locusts! TWO surgeons. Good. Two lists. I was third on Mr Renninson's, and my time moved from 3.00 to 3.30.

I saw the Anaesthetist, Dr John Saddler, first. As usual, a wit. Seems to me Anaesthetists are always pretty chuckalicious chaps. Then I saw Mr Renninson, my surgeon. He ran through the procedure, we discussed the book I am reading as he is reading it too, he got me to sign the release forms and told me he would come and tell me what he saw as soon as I was coming round. He said if he didn't see anything cancerous, he wouldn't bother with a biopsy. Aaargh! What? So I asked him to PLEASE just do it anyway, as he would be in there rooting about, so why not have that extra assurance? He said he'd see, and he also said I am his favourite patient!! That was nice of him. He is for SURE my favourite surgeon!

Sorry, I am not getting far fast with this – I started at 8.30 and it's now 12.00. I keep wandering off. I have managed to sleep a bit and do some washing in between. And eat more painkillers. And I am now going for more sleep!

Right – where was I? Oh yes. So, off I went to surgery, actually at 3.15 – managed to see the FH, who popped back, but only for a minute. I came round about 40 minutes later, and I am sure it was 2 minutes after that that Renninson shot into the room, beaming his little head off and informed me he couldn't see ANY CANCER!!! Then he rushed off again with the promise he would see me later. Whoosh!

He had a Noddy hat on?! A red and blue striped beany. I will never forget it.

I couldn't believe it. I burst into tears which promptly threatened to drown me, as I still had the oxygen mask on. And that is the best news we have had for what seems like forever. I just wanted to rip the mask off, find the FH and tell him. I did manage to give him the thumbs up as they wheeled me past him on the way to recuperate in the Day Ward. His little face was a picture – I'll never forget that either.

More details later. He had to do a bit of chopping and slicing. I have pictures!! And stitches. Ugh.

I will still be a LITTLE worried until I get the biopsy results in a few weeks, but Mr R is pretty reassuring. If he says no cancer, well…I am 98% there. More sleep now, as everything is rather hurting. But I am The Bomb!! No cancer??…woo hoo!