Some you win, some you loose.
As I sat in the car, following a lesson, writing up my notes, my phone rang. “Hello my name is (Dr..mumble mumble🤷🏼♀️) I’m in the Genetics Department at Great Ormond St. Hospital. You have been referred to us following your diagnosis.” I had expected this call and was pleased to receive it. But following her detailed explanation of what her department does and what happens following a simple blood test, I became more uncomfortable. Never have I ever wanted to fail a test so much in my life.
My blood test can have 3 outcomes:
No further action. The blood test proves negative for any genetic modifications.
Genetic modification. I have a mutated gene that predisposed me to this cancer and puts me in the high risk bracket for ovarian cancer too. This also has huge ramifications for my family. Sisters, nieces, nephews, my children and grandchildren. A truly horrible outcome. 🙏🏼
Mutation, no evidence at this time. This is where future research will hopefully help.
So now the genetics wait starts, which is 2 to 3 months. 🤦🏻♀️
A few days later I attended Whipps X hospital for my guided biopsy under MRI. I was very nervous about this. Firstly this is an unknown procedure to me. How does this work? And also obviously, this was gonna leave me black and blue and in pain for a few days. I strolled into the MRI Department in good time. “Hello, Gill for a biopsy under MRI?” The lady looked at her list. Then blankly looked at me “here?” My stomach immediately dropped, here we go. “I thought so?” I was directed to the breast clinic where the admin staff made a phone call and then told me I was suppose to be a Barts hospital for this procedure. (Hmm then why didn’t you tell me?) I left feeling weirdly disappointed but also frustrated at this ‘left hand, right hand’ bureaucracy. I had had to cancel lessons for this crap.
The next day I headed to Barts 🙄 for an Oncologist appointment. I was not exactly sure what this was for? I’m sure the Dr’s or Breast Care Nurse (BCN) told me at some foggy time but this like most of the past 3 months has disappeared into a file in my brain marked ‘WTF HAPPENED’
I arrived early so thought I’d pop into the MacMillan office. A kind lady was in the chair when I arrived. I said “I don’t know if you can help me but I’m told I can claim the travel expenses I am incurring?” “Oh yes! We can help with all of this. Are you self employed? How do you get to your appointments? Do you have dependants?...” She asked a series of questions I thought would probably lead to the inevitable, ‘Sorry you do not qualify’ letter. I then headed up the ornate, sweeping staircase to the waiting room, where I sat on a plastic chair for the next one and a half hours in a mildly nervous state. What was I here for?
Finally I was called into the office. A young man announced he was an oncologist, and wanted to discuss how I was coping with the chemo. During our ‘chat’ he casually remarked that I was to have a ‘Right breast mastectomy’. “No, a double you mean?” I said assuming the meerkat pose of any patient on high alert. He scrolled through copious notes on his screen. “No. Right breast only.” My jaw tightened. I felt anger surge. “I’m sorry (I wasn’t) but why have I been told by two different oncologists that I’m to have a double mastectomy and recon? One of the Dr’s even went into detail about the operation saying it usually takes 6 hours?” My second blank look in as many days was aimed at me. He said this is the reason for this MRI guided biopsy. Evidently the Radiologist’s in the team meetings are convinced I have cancer in my left breast as there was a suspicious shadow on the previous MRI. If the biopsy finds these pesky cells then a double mastectomy will be fait accompli. If not then I will have to see a psychiatrist to discuss my reasons for wanting healthy tissue removed.... reckon I’ll win that one.
So in the last week I have discovered I want to fail a genetics test but pass an MRI Guided biopsy. I’m literally hoping I have cancer. What’s happened? This is madness.
During all this madness I went out on yet another birthday jolly! This one with my girlfriends. In preparation I bought a number of wigs from Amazon and snuck them into my handbag, giggling madly to myself. Shelley collected me and Sarsha, then we collected Bev on route to Southend. Where we met Kerry, Rupa and Noreen. The restaurant is beautifully positioned, facing the seafront. With a patio heater and numerous blankets we happily spent the next 2 hours catching up. After the starters I nipped off to the toilet, replacing Sarsha with a candy-floss bob and returned to the table, as if nothing were amiss. A few seconds later 5 gasps and snorts of laughter erupted. Following our mains I again excused myself returning as Uma Thurman ala Pulp Fiction! Sarsha was not the most popular lady atop my bonce that night!
I spent the next week fighting the loosing battle of, working a reduced list of customers and bone weary exhaustion. These are my ‘good two weeks’ post chemo. I try to cram normality into these two weeks, knowing full well that chemo week is my Alice in Blunderland week. I’ll disappear down the chemo rabbit hole. ‘Normality’ is stretching it. I can manage 2 lessons if I get a break between customers and then I’m good for nothing. Assuming the slumped position staring at the tv through my ‘resting eyelids’.
I have, on the whole, worn Sarsha on my lessons. Most of my customers have either not noticed or said a morale boosting, ‘Oooo! Like your hair!’ The other day I had a few hours between lessons so I came home and raced up to my room, whipping Sarsha off and throwing her, relieved, onto the dressing table. I then popped into my bathroom. I was sat, minding my own business when I heard the soft pad and pant of Woody mounting my staircase. He stopped outside the door and stood looking at me with his stupid spaniel smile. I then spotted his eyes darting sideways at the discarded Sarsha. I swear he waited for my point of no return, then quick as a flash grabbed Sarsha and ran down the stairs. Steve was on the floor below on a team meeting, causing me to have to shout-whisper “Woody get back here! Drop! Drop it!” All to no avail. As soon as I was able (😳) I jumped up and raced after him. As I got to the patio doors he was happily bouncing round the garden, throwing his prize up in the air, upon seeing me he dropped Sarsha, put his front paw on her and pulled as hard as he could with his teeth. I heard the ripping sound and knew. Sarsha was no more. There was a ruddy great hole in the side, over my ear, the hair was stood on end almost in shock at its appalling treatment. Sarsha was now, Rod Steward. Bloody dog.
The next day I got back from lessons and found a letter for me. I opened it fully expecting of another hospital appointment but no! It was from The Rahere Association? They had been sent my case by the kind lady in the Macmillan office and had decided I should be awarded a lump sum from the charity towards my travel expenses. I stared open mouthed at the letter. I was shocked!
Firstly I didn’t think for a second think that I would be receiving money from a charity. Me? Why? And secondly, I felt a complete fraud. I didn’t need this money! I was then struck by the awful realisation that my friends had clubbed together to help with Uber rides. My head dropped into my hands. Oh God, I’d be on the news for taking people for a charity ride! I immediately set too. Calling and texting my friends updating them with my change of circumstance. Offering their money back! Obviously these are those wonderful humans I have talked about before and there was a resounding....
“Buy yourself a decent wig” chorus!
Humbled and slightly emotional, I sat down and wrote a ‘thank you’ card to the Rahere Association. Promising that, following this rubbish period in my life, I would raise the money they sent me and some, in anyway possible. Look out for me sat in a bath of custard or on a sponsored fancy, dress dog walk in a year or so! If the dog makes it that is 🤔
And now.... I’m sat on a train returning from a magical weekend in Penzance with my family, a final hurrah to my recent 50th! This has really helped take my mind off of tomorrow, my third round of chemo looms large. I’ll see you all on the other side!
