I wanted to write that header even less than you wanted to read it.
Two weeks ago, my week looked like this:
Tuesday: Interview at local theatre (As in 'The Arts' not hospital)
MRI at local Clinic (as in hospital)
Wednesday: Dermatologist for pesky thing on leg (see previous blogs)
Dr R, Oncologist - all three at the Clinic
Friday Mammogram and Ultrasound at local hospital
It was more exciting than that, I also had to put the bins out, do some laundry, go to the gym, couple of classes, do a food shop, eat, sleep, rehearsals. You get the picture.
Historically it seems to take weeks for the hospital to get the results back, so my expectations were quite clearly set. I wasn't sure what they were checking for and assumed both the MRI and CT results would take weeks rather than minutes to feed back.
I rang Dr R's secretary and asked if I needed the Dr R appointment as we wouldn't have had the mammo/ultrasound, let alone be close to getting any other results through.
Just sometimes I'm so wide of the mark I astonish myself.
She suggested that I came in for the appointment anyway and not to worry if it was an extra one booked in by mistake.
After the:
1) dermatologist (eczema by the way; yes, it really did take an appointment with a private dermatologist to get that bit of info. It's a very rare form of course, so rare neither of my GP's could identify it) and
2) the CT Scan (involved drinking a dodgy tasting potion dissolved in a litre of water)
the Purple Princess and I popped out of the clinic and treated ourselves to jam doughnuts and a quick cup of tea before popping back again for the superfluous appointment with Dr R.
We sat outside his office reading magazines when Dr R appeared (this is the second time I've seen him in the space of a week), Purple Princess was with me last time too.
Dr R: Is that your friend out there?
Moi: Er yes...
Dr R: How do you know her?
Moi: (I've no idea at this point, how do you know anyone?) Er, through the theatre...
I park myself and wait to be told this is an administrative error, he's no idea why I have this appointment, we need to have the mammo/ultrasound before he can give me any news of any kind.
Instead, he starts talking. With the best will in the world, I don't have a fucking clue what he said. I remember him saying things like 'bone' 'lung lining' 'disappointed' although what possible order these words arrived in my rather large shell likes is a total mystery. I also remember 'you won't loose your hair' and 'Herceptin'. Every cloud.
He told me to carry on with life as normal. Why wouldn't I? I told him I'm in a play at the end of November. 'Great' he said. 'My character has a fight, is that OK?' I ask 'Ah' he said 'don't fall over.' 'Oh, I'll try not to' I quip. 'No' he said 'You don't want to break anything.'
Half an hour later I came out. PP followed in such a rush she inadvertently nicked the magazine she was reading. I repeated some of the words I'd heard 'bone' 'lung lining' she said 'Why didn't you come and get me so I could ask questions/make sense?'.
And here I am, more than two weeks later, in which time I have asked Dr R so many gormless, inane questions he eventually suggested the Absent Bloke and I should go back in for a 'proper consultation', i.e, the kind where the doctor gives a diagnosis and the patient listens, absorbs and reacts to the information.
So now I'll try and explain, as best I can, what's happened.
Clearly the cancer is back. It's still breast cancer, even though it has spread to my bones and the lining of my lung. There's two fantastic bits of information lurking in this paragraph and the one that starts 'Instead, he starts talking...'
That is I have breast cancer which has previously reacted extremely well to treatment with Herceptin which I am still able to have. Hold this thought.
I have now stopped taking Tamoxifen. It was no longer helping. Dr R suggested I might see 'positive withdrawal' symptons and I have. The pains I was experiencing in my back and hips have reduced, a lot.
I'm now taking Letrozole and will be on this for the next six weeks or so. Once we see how I react to Letrozole we can then consider other options, which include further chemotherapy and Herceptin.
I hope this makes sense to you my dear reader as it sure as hell doesn't to me. Over the next weeks I will try to clarify and explain myself better.
With my first diagnosis I had no idea how I was going to get through. With this one I know I have the most amazing, positive, funny, kind and loving friends on the planet - from my next door neighbours, friends and adopted family in Bath to friends all over the planet and my real family in Manchester, Ireland and Sydney. Thanks all for your consistent and vital love and support.
Also along for the ride is the Absent Bloke who is quite consistently present these days. He's always told me to never let the truth stand in the way of a good story. So he'll remain 'Absent'. You'll just have to keep up.