I thought that the wait would be interminable but it turns out that if you run a small business there are plenty of things to take your time and exercise your stress muscles 🙂 .
Husband stays with me in the waiting room then goes back to Muttley to take him somewhere nice for a walk and get food. Hospital appointments are keeping us busy at the moment – practically becoming a career – but one still has to find time to buy food.
This time I know I can keep my phone with me so I can text him when I’m ready to escape.
It’s funny how quickly you get used to rather strange things. I was terrified before my first sigmoidoscopy but now it really doesn’t feel like much of a deal at all. This time I don’t have my own little room and personal loo. I’m given the phosphate enema on a trolley with the curtain drawn round and then make my way to the patient loo. I’m so glad it wasn’t done that way the first time when I was terrified. I’m getting better at dealing with the inevitable indignities. We’re all the same and I just have to get on with it.
The doc is set to remove another polyp. He’s optimistic that he can remove it but not sure yet. He injects saline to raise the polyp away from the bowel wall; most of it moves away from the bowel wall but some of it doesn’t, which means that it’s in the bowel wall so will require surgery – he can’t remove it now. I was expecting surgery of some description anyway so this isn’t bad news.
He agrees with his colleagues that whatever it is it needs to be removed: ‘If it’s not something bad now it will become bad. If it were me I’d want it taken out’. It’s so helpful when doctors talk to patients like human beings and give us the benefit of their instincts and experience as well as their expertise. Every doc who sees it doesn’t like the look of it but they do seem pretty positive that even if it is cancer it’s not only treatable but quite likely curable so things are looking pretty good really.
This Doc, like the surgeon, is surprised that I don’t have children and have no intention of trying (at my age??? I’m approaching menopause with a husband with cancer!). They have difficulty understanding that I don’t mind at all if they remove my womb. Apparently it’s pressing on the colon wall and making life very awkward. I have to keep repeating myself. My identity is not vested in my womb 🙂 . Both docs have looked very relieved to hear that I have no objection to them removing the womb if need be: ‘If it’s a problem then please take it out. Just. Take. It. Out.’
The discharge nurse is so very kind, reminding me that what I saw on the screen was magnified many times etc. She’s going to check that the biopsies are marked as urgent and then we simply have to wait for Histology. Again :-). I am feeling a little bit weak but fine and the little bit of bleeding seems to have stopped.
Husband drives us to the river so I get a nice view while he walks the dog again. We’re getting good at camping out in the car with flasks etc. My job is to make coffee so strong we could run the car on it. The dog’s job is to sit on my lap (all 35 kilos of him) so I can bury my face in his fluffy neck and benefit from his cheeky grin.
Husband drives us to the next hospital appointment through appalling rain. It feels like a mini monsoon and makes the already grey country town look pretty dire. It’s too wet to walk the dog again so we hunker down in the car, hours early but with nothing else to do. More coffee.
The Dermatology clinic is running 40 minutes late. I cannot complain. People walk for days to get to medical care in some parts of the world and many simply can’t get care of any kind.
The Consultant is so very nice and down to earth. When asked about health problems I mention the ME and almost forget investigations for possible bowel cancer… Fortunately he’s been told and husband is there to talk sense. I feel so sleepy…
It feels rather surreal to have a doctor staring intently at my lower back and the top of my butt with a magnifying glass but we’re British so it doesn’t affect conversation 🙂 .
There’s just one little dark dot in the mole that Mr Consultant doesn’t like the look of (he’s not bothered about its size, varied colour or slightly uneven edges) so he’s going to refer me to have it removed within the next 6 weeks. The great news is that even if it is cancerous (and it may well not be) he’s sure it’s very early so removal should sort the problem. 🙂