And so it begins

posted in: Cancer 0

We knew it wasn’t great when we were given a quick appointment with a haematologist and escorted to the Cancer Unit to see him. Apparently they can fit people in up there – they don’t run to normal schedules. I’m beginning to forget what normal feels like. 2 weeks ago we were swimming and hiking on holiday, yesterday we were working, today we’re in the cancer unit. Just for tests – “it’s best to rule things out”.

Yet more blood tests and another physical exam by a doctor with an inscrutable face – I wouldn’t want to face him at poker (if I played poker). Then health questions of every conceivable kind. Husband confirms he wants me there to take notes – no need for me to step outside – no affairs and possible sexually transmitted diseases. Doctor still inscrutable.

We’re going to have to do a bone marrow test”. That doesn’t sound good. I have no idea what they’re checking for and am currently wishing I had more medical know-how.

I’m sorry this is likely to be uncomfortable”. Dr Inscrutable looked compassionate, apologetic. At this point I have to leave – the last thing they need is a wife getting in the way. I feel sick. I want to cry but can’t. I’m English and we don’t do that sort of thing in public, particularly when it’s serious. The other people in the unit don’t need me making the environment more depressing – the dodgy coloured walls have that covered.

They call me in half an hour later and Husband declares that he hadn’t really felt it. Everyone looked surprised, including Dr Inscrutable (so he does do facial expressions – I file this knowledge for possible future reference).

All we can do now is go home and wait.

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