Changed forever.

The next part of my journey out of cancer looms large on the horizon. The double mastectomy and reconstruction operation. Even writing this feels other-worldly. I’m transported back to that Friday evening when I first felt the lump. Thank God I didn’t ignore it. 

As the calendar races along, our dear friends have taken matters into their own hands as to how to support us through this time. Tin foil boxes of food stack high in the freezer, boxes of chocolates wait in line for attention and offers of the most practical help flood in. I well up every time I think of it. One evening my WhatsApp began pinging, when I looked there was a waterfall of messages on my Canine Crew group. A ‘Walking Woody’ Rota had been set in motion! My amazing friends were even worrying about our boy! 

A week before my operation date and I still had no written confirmation it was going ahead. A little concerned I rung the hospital. Soon I was on the NHS Shuffle. Calling almost every extension & emailing most of the trust! I didn’t even have a pre op date with only 5 days to go. 

Eventually I got a call from the surgeons secretary “I’m sorry but we do not have you on our list?” I was dumbfounded. Now what? They said they would speak with the surgeon and ring me the next day. A migraine set in, leaving me in pain and exhausted from the stress of it all. I had to wait 24 hours before it was confirmed that I actually was to be operated on on the 20th. 

I was then booked in for my Pre op, ECG, bloods, MRSA swabs and Admin.  This was booked for the Thursday. I arrived at the hospital and was immediately sent for my Echo and ECG. Everything ran smoothly and 4 hours later I felt reassured that all was back on track! On the Friday morning I had to go to the hospital to complete a COVID test. 

Then all I had to do was get through the weekend. I began to feel real nerves. Fear was not far from the edge of my mind. I chewed my thumb nail so much it hurts. I was distracted and distant. I tried very hard to ensure the kids had a good weekend, so that if they felt scared at school all they had to do was think of our lovely weekend together. 

Unfortunately it didn’t work for me! I finally went to bed on Sunday evening feeling like the condemned woman. The alarm was set for 5:30am as I had to be at the hospital by 7am. I awoke unsure what the alarm was for? Then the dawning realisation that I had finally reached D Day hit me full in the chest. In the bathroom as I looked in the mirror, short, panting breaths, I fought to gain control. I needed to just get there and let the staff take control. 

I called a taxi at 6:30. Steve and Jess saw me off with sad waves. It was still dark which didn’t help with my nerves. I listened to Radio X as we drove in, aware life seemed to be going on as normal around me. I arrived at the hospital and headed into the surgical wing. A lady was waiting outside for the ward to open up. When we buzzed, the door was released and we walked into the ward. The door to the room facing us was open and the lights were on. At first I was unable to compute what I was seeing, a yellowish mannequin was lying prone in a bed, it was bald, it’s mouth hung open and for all the world I was unsure if it was real or not. I gasped and the lady with me exclaimed “oh my god” we both stumbled away from the room. My nerves were set jangling. I reeled round to the lady, “was that real?” I whispered. “I don’t know?” came the shocked response “I bloody hope not!” We both walked into the ward looking shocked. The staff didn’t notice and very quickly we realised they wouldn’t have cared anyway. 

We were told to go sit on a bed and the staff left the ward. A short while later a nurse came in and called my name. I got up and followed her, she took me to one of the private rooms, as she opened the door we peered in. The mattress was stood up leaning against the windows, box files cluttered the surfaces. The nurse turned and said “go back and sit down whilst I get your room ready” I went in and sat back on the bed, suddenly a loud voice hollered “get off that bed!” I looked round for who they were talking too and realised it was me! I stood up turned and hollered back “the nurse told me to come back and don’t talk to me like that!” We glared at each other I then turned and sat back on the bed. This nurse ignored me for the rest of my long and unpleasant day. The nurse came in and got me, taking me back to the room. The bed was made, the dim lights were on and the curtains were drawn. I looked round, the surfaces had been cleared. The nurse said “don’t open the curtains as the workmen stand outside.” Then she shut the door. I looked around, it was like an office someone had shoved a bed into. I walked to the window and opened the curtains, scaffolding was staged outside with a huge white sheeting blocking the natural light from the room. I closed the curtains and sat down. What now? Was I to get changed? Should I sit on the bed or would that nurse come yell at me again? I eventually got my iPad out and began watching tv. At 9am I thought I had better let the staff know I had an appointment at 9:45 in the Nuclear Medicine Department. I wandered out to the nurses station and showed a passing nurse my email with the appointment time. She said to go back to my room they would come get me when they were taking me down. Ok! I went reluctantly back into my cell. 

I sat there another hour listening to the workmen outside laughing uproariously. Wishing I could hear the joke. Some time after 10am a nurse came in and told me in an apologetic voice that they had lost my Covid test and as such my surgery may have to be cancelled! I stood still staring at her, trying to understand what she was talking about! She said that they would do another test now but it takes at least 2 hours to get the results. I wasn’t able to hold back my angry outburst. I began reeling off the catalogue of errors I had had to endure since I had been unfortunate enough to be referred to this hospital, I paced up and down the small room recounting the shocking standard of care, or lack of, that I had been subjected to, my voice climbed as tears threatened until I realised no one really cares. I ran out of steam, sat on the bed and awaited the second Covid test. “Can I just check your details you are Gillian Goodie yes?” “No” I said feeling worried now. What the hell was going on around here? The nurse peeled the sticker with Ms Goodie’s name on, off the test kit and proceeded to do my second test. I sat on the bed after wondering what Ms Goodie was having removed! 

Ten minutes later a male nurse wandered into my room with another COVID test kit. I said “I’ve just done that!” He said “we have misplaced it. Could we do another one?” I started to laugh, this was too funny, Steven Mulhern is hiding somewhere right? Wrong this was the balls up I endured. I was then told to go to the Nuclear Medicine Department. This reignited my positive energy. Something was happening. I trawled down to the basement and found the ☢️ department. They were expecting me which surprised me! I was called into a side room and a young male nurse told me he was going to be injecting a radioactive substance into me, which would then spread across my chest and then I would have an X-ray of the area. “Ok this will feel like a bee sting” he said as he injected into my areola. Flipping bee sting! I’ll inject it into his ball sack and see if he describes it like that then. It was like having burning fuel injected. I then had the embarrassing job of massaging my boob to help the even distribution 😳I was then sent to have the X-ray and told to return to the surgical ward. When I arrived I was directed back to my room. I was given my surgical clothes and told to put the paper knickers, 2 gowns, paper hat, support stockings and non slip socks on! Schexy.

Again the waiting game. I had no idea what was happening, I was confused and terrified. This is not a great combination when you are alone in a cell like room all day with no one to speak to. A while later my surgeon arrived I was so relieved I nearly cried. He said he was sorry for the delay. My COVID test was back and now I had to wait for a theatre as I had been bumped.

An hour later and the team all strolled into my room. I was told to remove my gown and my surgeon drew all over my chest, giving him and the team detailed information I was glad they would have! Then they told me there had been complications with the patient ahead of me so their surgery was taking longer than expected. He was hoping for a 5pm slot at the latest. This immediately worried me as my op was supposed to take 4-6 hours. Would the team be responsive, alert, awake? He said they do this all the time and I wasn’t to worry.

Again I sat. Finger tapping. Mind whirling. Then my surgeon came in and told me my surgery was cancelled. The patient ahead of me was in serious trouble, I would not get a slot today. I was offered 2 options, tomorrow with a brand new team and surgeon I have never met? Or reschedule for next Monday. What would you have chosen? 🤔 I chose option 2. So I got back in an Uber, when I got home and was enveloped by my family. I took a sleeping pill and slept from 8:30pm until 6:30am. I felt so much brighter and back on a positive footing. Ready to repeat the whole week. This time I wasn’t scared. I was prepared.

The sun shone all week, I had visits from my closest friends and walked woody in all our favourite haunts! This week felt a bit like a gift. I was outside and feeling well! Next week is forecast rain and autumnal temperatures whilst I hibernate in my bed! I didn’t have to go for the pre op again which was a relief! But I had to go for the Covid test again! On the morning of the test I also had a pupil going on her practical test! She was supposed to be with my colleague but was so relieved when I told her my op was delayed! So I spoke with the breast unit and requested their earliest slot. I arrived bright and early, the unit knew about my palaver last week and when I requested to walk with the nurse to the lab with the test she laughed good naturedly! But I wasn’t joking. Safely delivered I raced off to see my customer pass her test first try! With the euphoria of a pass under my belt I put my shoulders back and stepped into the weekend. I was shielding so didn’t go out except to walk Woody in the woods! As Sunday rolled round I was in a better frame of mind to last week. I was positive and focussed on the end result. Cancer free. 

Monday morning the alarm went off and I awoke with that strange feeling, what’s happening today? Why do I feel strange? Oh shiiit! I kissed the kids goodbye, as requested but this time they didn’t wake which was such a relief. Steve hugged me tight and told me to go kick cancers arse one last time! I got in the Uber turned out of my road and hit a petrol station queue which succeeded in making me 20 minutes late!

I walked into a fully lit, fully staffed surgical ward. The nurse whom had shouted at me last week said in a happy voice “welcome back!” Laughing merrily. I was initially unsure if she  was being sarcastic! But I realised she was being sincere! I was told to go to bay 4. A curtained bed area at the end of the ward. She told me this would be my bed! I was so happy! I was dreading being put into that cell again. 

The patient in the bed next to me was so smiley and friendly that it didn’t take long for us to bond. She was having a lumpectomy and was obviously nervous. We calmed each other. Soon we were sent to the Nuclear Medicine Department. When we arrived they informed us that the machine had broken down. Well I guess it can’t all be smooth sailing! I changed and awaited the nurse. A while later the nurse came and collected me. I was by now freezing, sitting in a draughty room in what is essentially a curtain is not comfortable. We walked to the X-ray room, I said “I haven’t had my injection yet”? The nurse said they would inject me on the table. Ok! This nurse was so gentle and injected me slowly, so slowly that I hardly felt a thing! I told her the guy last week had been of the ‘Wham Bam Thank You Mama’ variety! She laughed at this! I can now too 😬 I was then x-rayed and sent back to the waiting room. When my Bosom Pal came out we walked back over together. This whole day so far was so much less scary than last week. It was so much less lonely. 

When we arrived back on the ward, piles of surgical clothes were neatly piled on our beds. We changed and then stepped out of our cubicles to point and laugh at each other! I am acutely aware as I write this that I do not know this ladies name, I just know we helped each other through a life changing day and I thank her. 

A short time later as I sat listening to my book I was approached by a thin, small man who waved his hand in my face! I removed my earphones and he announced in a quiet voice “I’m the anaesthetist, I’ve checked your notes from last week. Have there been any changes?” “No I still have my boobs” I said waiting to see if he laughed or would be shocked, either would do. He didn’t miss a beat. “Ok see you in theatre.” Wow, Mr Personality. He then approached my pal “Gillian?” He enquired. “No! That’s still me!” I called out wondering what cocktail of drugs he was cooking up for me now! 

Although I have a surgeon I have met and discussed the operation with, he is being assisted by a female surgeon I was introduced to last week. This lady now walked onto the ward and headed for me with a huge smile in place. I smiled back. “Ah!” She said! “I’m so sorry about what you went through last week, I felt awful for you.” Wow! An apology from somebody! Amazing how that can take the sting out of anything, like a slow careful injection. Not difficult, just really important. 

She pulled the curtains round us and began drawing on my chest whilst chatting away. I felt calmer than last week, I knew I was ready now. Sure enough just moments later a young man came and called my name. I stood, smiled at my new pal and said “Good luck I wish you all the best.” And followed my chaperone out. The walk to the theatre was surreal, we walked through grey cold corridors, entered large lifts and if he had run away, I wouldn’t have known where to begin! Finally we arrived at a cavernous room filled with faces I recognised. I looked at the bed, large rectangle lights were arched over it, waiting. The thin man was sat on a stool disinterestedly playing on his phone, I was lead to the bed and told to lie down. I was feeling panic rising in my throat when I became aware of a male nurse who was talking kindly to me. “What do you do for a living?” He asked. I said I was a driving instructor he began to laugh loudly and said in a voice filled with giggles “one day I walked into theatre and upon the table lay my driving instructor! He told me I had better do a good job!” He continued to laugh as I drifted away from the world and into oblivion.

I remember waking up in a dark room with two nurses fussing round me, I remember asking if they could pass the Weetabix and the milk! I must have drifted away again. The next thing I remember is being wheeled into a ward. The lights were on, I looked around and saw 2 other beds opposite me. I then became aware of the tubes leading out of my body, the bandages, the inability to move. I explored my bed and this strange body that lay in it with my fingers. I was totally numb from my armpits to the top of my stomach. I could push flesh with my fingertips, yet felt nothing. The bedding was untidy, my feet felt trapped in sheets and blankets. My head was itchy, I raised my left arm up, my right arm was heavy, like when you have pins and needles. My hand reached up and found the paper hat skewed on my head. For some reason I felt the need to apologise to the ward “I’m sorry ladies, I need to remove my hat it’s itching so much. But I have to warn you I have a baldy bonce!” It was at this time I became aware of the bald woman in the bed #4 next to me. 🤦🏼‍♀️

I then spent the next few hours dosing on and off, bizarre dreams carried me away from the untidy bed. At 4am I awoke fully and felt refreshed. I got out of my bed, gingerly testing my legs. I then spent the next few minutes trying to work out which wires were mine and which belonged to the bed! I went out to the nurses station and asked the nurse if I could have a shower? She seemed surprised, which now in the cold light of day I understand! A bald woman, holding what looked like her entrails, at 4am was requesting a shower! She gently lead me to the bathroom and instructed me to only strip wash, I was not allowed to shower until I had spoken with the Dr’s! 

Moving slowly and with great care not to see myself in the metal reflective mirror above the sink, I slowly explored what was left of my body.

I find it difficult to express in words. I felt fear, repulsion, sadness and weakness. Not strength wise, but weakness of the spirit. What more could this disease do to me? I was now changed forever. 

Cleaner but less confident, I left the bathroom and sunk onto my bed. Loneliness enveloped me. I knew I had to get a grip. Hold onto something before I fell. I grabbed my iPad and began to write. 

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