On my 12th day in hospital, the consultant said to me

We have a plan to send you home.

But before we get to that let me give you a quick run down of my week in Royal Surrey. 

After 2 nights in a bay with 5 other women (mostly elderly, some missing some marbles, several deaf ones and most of them unable to use their buzzer and who insists on shouting for the nurses) I was moved into a private room. 

There are benefits and drawbacks to this. 

I don't spend the time my children are visiting telling them to be quiet etc, I don't have to worry about using my headphones for the radio or tv I am choosing to watch and can nap to my hearts content. On the negative side, it is very isolating. You don't have a constant nurse presence or anyone to chat to, even if I don't want to chat a lot of the time. 

A couple of times I waited 20/30 minutes for my buzzer to be answered or pain relief to be bought. But I am planning a post on this later.

Despite the fact that there are consultants available over the weekend nothing got done. Even on Monday and Tuesday nothing really happened. 

On Monday I got a chance to look at my CT scans and see both my liver mets and my tumour in my stomach. But I really felt like screaming, feet were dragging. After all I had been moved because I was and emergency and needed rapid treatment and in my mind nothing seemed to be happening. 

When I finally saw the consultant on Tuesday he told me that they had decided to do another endoscopy on Wednesday which may invovle having a shunt inserted into my small bowel to prevent it narrowing. The other reason was too look at the tumour and try and ascertain which blood vessel needed embolising to prevent further bleeding. 

I spent Wednesday morning waiting and was finally taken down to theatre at 12:30. The reason I was taken to theatre was because I was going to have a general anaesthetic. I am a bit difficult to sedate apparently and need quite a large amount of sedation relative to a normal person. But can someone please define normal for me.

I woke up in the recovery room with a huge needle in my left arm, with my fluids going through it. It was really sore and I couldn't wait to get it out. 

After about 45 minutes I was taken back to the ward and hoped to get the cannula out before the children arrived. Alas that didn't happen, but once the fluids finished you can bet I was on the case and buzzer to get it out. As I type (4 days later) I still have a scab and substantial bruise where that cannula was. 

I had hoped to see the consultant later that evening, but nothing. I had hoped to see Dr Cummins ( my oncologist) at some point as he was the person who requested my transfer, but nothing either.

I finally saw the consultant late on Thursday and he basically told me he was not prepared to do anything until I bled again. To be honest, he needs to work on his bedside manner. He had no empathy with my fears and did nothing to try and address how I was feeling. He just told me he was not prepared to operate at the moment and all he would do was send me home with a letter for me to give to anyone if I collapse again telling them to take me straight to Royal Surrey for emergency admission to be operated on immediately. 

I was in tears, it was like he was asking me to take my life into my own hands again and put it on hold, hoping I would bleed again. I tried to explain this, he just wouldn't listen and had no reassuran or anything. In all he does not deliver good customer service. 

The team must have been gone for about 5 minutes when Tony walked in and found me in tears. I was not coherent and could not articulate why I was so upset so Tony went and found Paul (one of the other Dr's involved in my care) and came back understanding how I felt and what had been going on. 

Shortly after Tony left Dr Cummins finally arrived to see me. I explained my disappointment at nothing being done and how slowly it appeared to have happened. 

On Friday I finally realised that they were going to let me go home, and so started the preparations for that. I saw Dr Cummins again and we arranged an appointment on Wednesday to follow up my scans. I told him I was interested to know the effect that the chemo I had tolerated had had on the tumour and what the future was likely to be. He thinks I'll be starting a new round of chemo fairly soon.

So, I was going home. I told the staff nurse looking after me that I really needed everything so I could be ready to go home by 4pm as my husband had an important meeting that evening at 6pm. She said that his would be fine. Of course it wasn't and you wait around and wait around. I understand that they need to get drugs from pharmacy, but honestly when you live an hour from the hospital you can't just ring someone once you have your papers. 

But eventually everything arrived (4:30) and I was out of there. 

I have spent the last two days readjusting to being out. I am now in control of my own pain relief which is a blessing and can take it when I need it. It is a big shock coming out of hospital and you need to time to reassimilate into family life. I am still ill, but coming close to getting some answers I hope.

Living with cancer

Living with cancer is much more than just going to weekly, fortnightly or other frequency chemo appointments.

There is all the side effects and problems that tumours, especially ones that cannot be operated on cause.

Consider this, since December 23rd I have been admitted to hospital 4 times (3 of those via ambulance).

The latest admission rounded of a lovely evening of drinking tea and teaching some of the people who made my very special quilt how to knit.

Here's how it happened.

I ate a biscuit (never again), got up to go to the loo, and face planted into Emma's under stairs shoe rack, unconscious. I imagine panic ensued. You don't expect your friend, even if she is suffering cancer to faint when she has seemed fine all night. I also have several small cuts to my chin and lip to show for the ordeal.

An ambulance was called, but Emma lives on a new estate so someone had to chase the ambulance up the road, while the lovely Jennie had been woken and came to provide some medical reassurance. 

Luckily for Emma I managed to contain the nausea I was feeling for the ambulance and I'm glad I did. 2 and a half bowls of blood later and I was worried. Blood remains in your body, vomiting blood is never a good sign. 

I was then hooked up to enough painkillers to fell a small elephant (entenox and my favourite liquid paracetamol) and took another trip to A&E.

A&E was pretty uneventful, until the vomiting started again, Tony arrived and was greeted with the sight of his wife being rushed into resuscitation while vomiting blood. 

They gave me some anti sickness drugs, one of which gave me an awful rash up my arm and so now needs to be added to the list of allergens (along with penicillin & liquid tramadol). They also took a chest X-ray and then Tony was allowed to see me. I can only imagine what had been through his head and I apologise with all my heart to you my love. I do not ever mean to scare you and I am sorry about that.

I was moved to the Acute Medical Unit where I am now and 48 hours later have not vomited anymore blood, but am still suffering from Melena (Google it if you wish).

I have had a CT scan and another endoscopy (camera down the throat), but came round from the endoscopy to the most beautiful thing in the world, back on the ward with my husband and children just arriving. 

This uncertainty about whether I will collapse, when I will collapse and what happens dogs every step of my life & panics me everyday, thanks to those closest to me, my amazing friends who so far this week have looked after my children so Tony can go to work and continue to earn, rather than taking the time off either unpaid or cutting into our precious holiday time together as a family.

Finally, after reading this please do one of two things

Visit www.blood.co.uk and register to give blood 

Or my very good friend Emma Patterson is completing dryathlon for cancer research uk, please sponsor her and make my dreams of an artificial stomach come even closer.

Dinosaurs suffered with cancer and a cure will not be found in my lifetime, but other research can help patients suffering from cancer, and giving up alcohol is a massive sacrifice to raise money.

Not the NHS's finest moment

Today I saw my consultant, not one of his minions or underlings, but my oncologist. It is so refreshing to see him, he understands the disease and me and treats me like a person with opinions & knowledge rather than an inconvenience in their day, who asks awkward questions.

We talked about my admission's to hospital over the festive period, specifically about the unknown bleeding and where it was coming from and what may have caused it.  It seems to have been the tumour causing the bleeding and my 'wonder drug' Avastin is what appears to have caused it. You might remember that Avastin attaches to specific proteins on the surface of the tumour. It also targets and weakens the blood vessels to reduce the blood supply to the tumour. In some people, ie me, it can cause unexplained bleeding. This means that I cannot have anymore Avastin, as we definitely don't want anymore bleeding and fainting.

We then talked about my tumour. It appears that the scans I had done in Somerset when I was admitted have not made it to Sussex yet. They are in the ether. This means that we do not know the status of my tumour and whether it has shrunk or not. So he and his specialist nurses are on the case and I have to go back in 2 weeks to see what the way forward is. 

So not the NHS's finest hours. Scans I had done over 2 weeks ago which can be transmitted electronically have not managed to make it here. 

This brings me onto one other thing. Why do I have an NHS number , but when admitted to hospital a hospital number. Why not just use one number to treat your patient. Is it of any benefit to me to have a different hospital number for every hospital I am treated in? This means for chemo alone I have 2 hospital numbers because I have outpatients treatment in Crawley and chemo in Guildford I have a number for each hospital. Why not just use my NHS number. 

If anyone can answer his please let me know.

Coming to terms with my changing body

I have posted a lot about the factors that led to me nagging my GP for every test under the sun to find out what was wrong with me. 

One of the big factors was weight loss. 

I have always been comfortable in my body. I have never dieted or religioùsly weighed myself ( apart from the 4 months before I got married when I used slim fast)

When I conceived Isaac in 2007 I was a size 18/20. I probably weighed about 100kg. However I was happy, I had no desire to loose weight, I did a lot of yoga, walked a lot and ate healthily. At 6' (1.8m) tall I carried it well. Ok, I was overweight but not scarily so.

After Isaac was born I lost some weight through breastfeeding. Yes, really, I did loose weight and then when Imogen was born in 2010 I lost more through breastfeeding and running around after a toddler. I was then between a 16/18, probably about 85-90kg. Still doing the yoga, not so much walking but eating a lot more healthily.

Fast forward to 2011 - more weight loss, people were starting to comment on it. I was doing nothing differently except for running around after 2 toddlers and using the car a lot less as petrol prices crept up and the Volvo drank fuel like it was water!!

I now know that the 2011 weight loss should have been a wake up call to get things looked at. I had a tumour growing inside me which was causing the weight loss. I was down to 80kg and a size 16.

Once I was diagnosed and started treatment things seemed to stabilise. I was a comfortable size 16 and celebrated getting the all clear with some new clothes. I felt good in my body, it had beaten cancer and survived 8 cycles of chemotherapy.

Then 4 short months later, even more amazingly I found out I was expecting baby number 3. At my booking in appointment with the midwife I weighed in at 81.2kg. However I did not have an easy pregnancy and clothes that fitted at the start of the pregnancy seemed to get bigger rather than smaller as I struggled to eat 3 meals a day due to a combination of sickness, pain and exhaustion. 

Once Hope was born I was back in my pre pregnancy jeans within days. I took Isaac to a birthday party on April 14th wearing size 18 jeans, that were too big.

Within a month of her birth I was buying jeans in a size 14. I was thrilled. According to my scales I was 75kg, and this meant I was no longer overweight. I was healthy. 

But the weight loss didn't stop there. By the time Isaac finished his first year at school the size 14's were too big and I was down to 70kg. I couldn't afford  to buy more new clothes. When you are as tall as me, you can't just nip to primary and pick up a few cheap pairs of jeans unless you want them to end mid calf. Charity shops are out too, there aren't generally tall ranges in them. 

Over the summer I tried to eat better. But I couldn't keep the weight on. By the time Isaac went back to school I was 60kg. I had lots of positive comments from people about how lucky I was to be loosing so much weight, how well I looked and what was my secret. Luckily these were people who didn't know me well. The people that know me knew how worried I was.. The tests weren't showing anything. Clear colonoscopies, clear CT scans, clear blood tests. But something was wrong. 

I hated my body now. Clothes hung off me. I looked gaunt and, to me, ill. The Ruth looking back at me was not someone I knew.. I was half the women I used to be. I joked a lot about feeling like a Trainspotting extra, a drug addict. I could fit my belt around me twice. The only benefit was I could occasionally go bra less (not that I did, I was still breastfeeding, but I did not need the support offered by my 38GG feeding bras, I actually got re measured in Debenhams as a 32E and had perky boobs again).

The cancer reappearing has been a blessing in disguise. I knew what was wrong. I was not imagining it. I really was proper poorly. This raised new issues for me. I started to realise that I wasn't going to put all the weight back on. 

In my new Box of Love was an envelope. I picked it up when we went across to Cardiff as I thought I might need cheering up. When I opened it on Friday night I was stunned. Several people had clubbed together a got me a voucher for Next. I couldn't wait to spend it. Imogen, Hope and I went shopping in Cardiff. We got something for each of the girls and then gleaned directions to Next. I'd decided I would get at least one pair of jeans, which I did, in a size 12. They were a little too big but I hoped I would put some of the weight back on. I also got a scarf and some long sleeved tops for layering as I knew that the chemo, cancer and weight loss were going to mean I was cold a lot. To the people that bought me that voucher, you know who you are. The thoughtfulness was amazing. You made me come to terms with my changing body.

I've been picking up a few more bits and pieces now. Mostly PJ's as they are comfy and multi purpose. I tend to put them on as soon as I know I don't have to go out again in the afternoon.

I still have a way to go before I am comfortable in my body though. Being slim, makes me feel taller and seems to make people more aware of my height. Today I went into Next and thought I would try some skinny jeans. I was not ready for that. A size 10 gaped at the back and was baggy around the thighs, as well as making my legs look like matchsticks. 

I'll be sticking to cosy PJ's and boyfriend fit jeans for now.

The aging process

Tomorrow will be the 34th anniversary of my birth. Yep, with crappy timing my birthday has rolled around again.

Last years day was pretty awesome. We took the children and 10 week old bump to Disneyland Paris to meet Mickey Mouse and generally have fun and experience something new. This included quite a lot of train spotting, luckily our accommodation was close to a railway line and learning lots of new words especially Pomme for Apple.

The year before, 2011, I'd been diagnosed with the cancer and had my date for chemo starting which was 2 days after my birthday. So my actual birthday was spent with some friends enjoying the last of the sunshine before 2 days of PICC lines and oxaliplatin infusions. 

This year I fear will be another wash out. 

I had my endoscopy on Friday 27th, actually I kind of had 2. I opted initially to not be sedated and have the local anaesthetic. I thought I coped remarkably well with the tube being put in and did not have to much gagging or choking. However when it came to it I just could not tolerate it for too long, so the tube had to be withdrawn and I had to be cannulated and sedated. 

It turns out that there was still a lot of fluid in my stomach despite not eating or drinking anything for more than the prescribed time. 

I have to say the local anaesthetic is nasty, it is supposed to taste like banana. If that was my first taste of banana, I'd never have it again. It burns and tastes most unpleasant, but it does numb your throat and makes you dribble everywhere!

After a short time in recovery we saw the consultant. Finally I was going to get some answers.  Or not. 

There is an area of inflammation in my stomach, which he has sampled and sent off for histology. In order to investigate further I will need yet another CT scan. 

Since the endoscopy I have been in almost constant abdominal and back pain. Now I know that there is inflammation in my stomach I can't take anymore NSAIDS, so ibuprofen is out for pain relief and I am relying on trusty paracetamol and constipating cocodamol.

The last few nights have been so bad I have managed about 3 hours sleep a night. 

So, with all this behind and in front of me, I am not looking forward to tomorrow as a special day, but as one more day towards answers. 

Take that Bowel Cancer

So its true, I am in remission. The CT scan showed nothing there, the blood I had taken before the last lot of chemotherapy showed normal tumour markers and everything can gradually return to normal. 


Except things are not normal. As I mentioned before there is the paranoia that I am carrying the faultyy gene and so could be rediagnosed at any time. 


Then there is the bowel stuff. I have not known anything like it - I can veer from blocked to loose in the course of a day.


I addressed this with the consultant yesterday. Although I have asked my surgeon & my oncologist several times if there is anything I should be avoiding or including in my diet the answers have always been there is nothing you should cut out.


Speaking to the consultant yesterday and discussing (like an adult without being embarassed or sniggering) she suggested that it might be worth cutting out 'healthy food'. So things that you eat because they are good for you like muesli, wholemeal bread & pasta, and seeds and pulses should be cut out to see if it has an impact on your regularity. 


Now I have already reduced my caffeine intake. Every 3 to 4 weeks I think 'oh I really want a coffee, it can't be that bad' and then my stomach & intestines remind me why I am cutting it out (Decaff has the same effect). Funny enough I can drink tea though. 


So once the current muesli packet is finished I shall be looking for a new breakfast cereal. 

Resoutions

Now most people have made their resolutions and broken them by the 2nd of January. However I promised myself at the start of the year that I wouldn't make or indeed break any resolutions until I was free of chemotherapy.
I suppose technically that was 14th March, the day I took my last handful of tablets, but I haven't felt like I am free of anything just yet
You see that's the thing about Cancer. It is now a permanent part of my life. I will forever be concerned that it will come back. I know plenty or people go on to live a long and healthy life and never have to deal with it again. I also know people who knock one type of cancer on the head and then have to deal with another and another and another.
I cannot say into which camp I will fall as I am still in the processing mode I have had part one of my follow up which was yet another CT scan, and on Tuesday I see my oncologist to confirm I am all clear.
Honestly I cannot see past that date at the moment. It will be at Crawley Hospital which is the same place I was when I was told that it was cancer, where I had to go to have my PICC line flushed & where there is a lot of negativity for me. Its not as bad as East Surrey which will forever be associated with the surgery and readmissions, or Royal Surrey where I had all the 'poxy oxi'
So until Tuesday life is still on hold, although there are crafty goings on, including purple prickles for a Gruffalo Costume...photos to follow

March madness

Wow, March already. In knitting novice news - the 29th signalled my last trip to Guildford. I saw my consultant and despite having felt shocking for the last few days I was still healthy enough to have chemotherapy. I finall talked to him about what happens next. He said I would receive an appointment for a CT scan and then would have a follow up. When I told him I already had a date for a follow up he was slightly confused but said that as long as my CT scan is before the follow up then it will be fine.
In knitting news - after almost 2 years I finally finished my bobble cushions from this book and have started a new project...... 12 knitted boobs from this blog for a breastfeeding counsellor friend of mine. So far, 2 down, 10 to go. In family news - littlest novice survived to her 2nd birthday and we celebrated in style with a trip to Drusllas zoo including a ride on Thomas the Tank Engine and some feeding of Lorrikeets.

Another eventful weekend

Things are never quiet in my life. Just once I'd llke a nice restful weekend, where I can look after my kids and not rely on others. Ut not this one it would seem. Two points here.... 1. This post will be graphic, squeamish people may not want to read it 2. It is written from my hospital bed using my fancy new iPad! Things kicked off on Friday with more stomach cramps. These were different to the summers cramps and were more all over. Oh great I though, nice after weeks of loose motions courtesy of chemo now comes the blockages!! Phone call to the gp, emergency appointment and a prescription for suppositories and movicol followed with instructions that things should be moving over the weekend. So we went home and started operation 'get Ruth's bowels moving'. Suppositories went in & then came straight back out again, almost like there was some sort of force field preventing them working. I took the movicol, and although it tasted unpleasant it had no noticeable effect. That evening things went from bad to worse. Ate about three mouthfuls of tea before I bought it back up. That started to worry me. The gp had asked if I had been vommiting, and I started to wonder whether this was more than just a bit of constipation. I took another dose of movicol and thought that would be that. How wrong I was. Almost immediately it came back up. This pattern continued all night, I must have vomited about 6 or 8 times & I still hadn't been to the toilet, despite sitting on it for what felt like hours. I resolved over night to go to a&e in the morning because I knew this wasn't right. So he next morning we drove up to Redhill and found out what a magic word chemo is. No waiting around for me, straight to assessment. I explained about the vomitting and feeling blocked up, so they sent me for some X-rays to have a look at want was going on. This doctor didn't seem to concerned about the vommiting, which worried me as I was mow concerned about this. He decided to give me and enema and wait and see if it worked. They also gave me an IV drip and some senna, then sent me home with more senna, movicol and some painkillers and instructions to come back if things hadn't moved by Monday. Thanks at this point go to the lovely Sophie, who came all the way to East Surrey to collect me and took me home. I tried to have some tea, then sent Tony out to get the prescription. After a Strictly Come Dancing fix and a Merlin perv I bit the bullet and took some more movicol & the senna and vomited he movicol straight back up, and then spent the night vomitting what looked and smelt like senna tablets. Sunday was a repeat of Saturday, back to Redhill, back to assessment, back on fluids, back to x ray. They seemed to take the vomiting a lot more seriously and I got moved into surgical assessment unit. The consultant I saw said that they were concerned about a blockage caused by my summer adventures & scar tissue, so by were arranging a ct scan and I would need to have an NG tube and a catheter to monitor my outputs. Having an NG tube is a very unpleasant experience. There was a lot of vomitting and choking having a tube inserted through your nose and down the back of your throat. Watching what comes out is an interesting experience! There followed another ct scan, with a difference this time, the contrast leaked into my vein and so there was some pain and swelling in the back of my hand. The ct scan showed an obstruction in my small bowel linked to my scar tissue which needs clearing. So it looked like I was in for the long haul again. Finally at midnight I got moved onto the ward and things became explosive and remained explosive all night! So now I am sitting here in my hospital bed, with the NG tube disconnected, and am on free fluids, which I think means jelly, jelly, jelly!!

What a week - THE BOMBSHELL - Part 4 - Monday 11th July & Tuesday 12th July

As this is now so far behind I have to put some dates on this so that you know when I am writing about.


Monday started the same as every other morning in hospital, ie someone trying to take my blood pressure at about 6am. I think I may have told them to 'leave me alone as it was obvious I wasn't dead'.


We were still no closer to figuring out what was wrong and eventually the entourage came about and told me what was happening.


There was an area of inflammation on my bowel in and in order to find out what it was they wanted to do a colonoscopy and get some samples for a biopsy.


I thought that meant I would get a bit of a break then until a porter showed up for me. It appeared that after all the fighting that had happened over the weekend I was going for another CT scan, this time of my chest. 


This was good news for me but there was a woman on the ward who had been bleating since her admission on Saturday about going for a CT scan of her lungs. The look she shot me was unbelievable!!


Once I got back I finally got a hot meal. I can honestly say that the Shepherds Pie had never tasted so good, even if it was only luke warm and a little bit 'crusty'


Tony and the kids came in later on again and we had lots of fun playing on the bed and colouring in. At one point I overheard one of the women complaining about Isaac's thumb sucking, and wondered whether she would have the guts to say anything to me about it. 


More sandwiches for tea and then more visitors. 


I then decided to have a look at the booklet and information about the colonoscopy that one of the staff nurses had given me earlier on. I started to worry at this point. Specifically about the sedation that they use to do the prodecure. They use a type of anaesthetic called concious sedation. I had had this before when I had a wisdom tooth removed and did not like it at all. The only way I can describe it is like loosing parts of your memory. Crucially 'parts' of your memory. You can remember some things then you have a gap and that was what I didn't like. 


And so to sleep.


Tuesday was pretty boring. You can only have clear fluids before a colonoscopy. However it is not nil by mouth. You can have black tea and coffee (bonus, I only drink black tea and coffee), clear soup - I think this means that they take the normal soup and sieve all the bits out because it definitely tasted of something, and best of all JELLY!! Thanks to all my Facebook and twitter friends I also had a lot of forbidden suggestions as well - Gin, Vodka etc.
You also have to 'clear out' the less said about that the better, after all this is a public blog and things cannot be deleted from the internet!!


I had my visit again and this time actually left the ward to walk Tony and the kids back to the exit. When I got back to the ward the 'windy geriatric' asked to have a word with me. She accused me of being a negligent mother for allowing Isaac to suck his thumb and Imogen to suck her fingers. According to her it was unhygenic, not nice to be done in public. When I politely told her it was none of her business she told me that it was her business when I was 'neglecting' my children's health. I reiterated that it was none of her business and she kept shouting that it was. Eventually one of the health care assistants had to come and tell her to calm down and leave me alone.


That definitely made me more determined that I was going home tomorrow whatever the outcome of the colonoscopy. 


They say lots of things about KARMA and I like to think that was what happened about 9pm when the 'windy geriatric' was moved from the ward to the 'discharge lounge' because she was able to go home. 


I didn't get much sleep on Tuesday night - partly due to nerves about the colonoscopy and for other reasons that are best not discussed here.

What a week - THE BOMBSHELL - Part 2 - Saturday

I know it says Saturday in the title, but obviously there is a fairly important part of the process that happened on Friday night which was the blood transfusion. 
Blood transfusions are fairly annoying things, especially the pump and it's incessant beeping. My canula was in the crook of my right arm and I tend to sleep on my left hand side with my hands curled up around me. If you are having a blood transfusion you need to keep your arm straight and believe me that is really hard to do. 
They started the blood at around about 5pm and alongside IV fluids I was pretty much attached to the bed. The first unit went in quite quickly, a couple of hours. Then the next 2 took a total of about 6 or 7 hours. I think it finished about 1am and was really quite fustrating as everytime I moved, the machine bleeped and then I had to buzz a nurse to come and silence it. They also had to, continuously, it felt take my blood pressure, SATS and temperature, so just when you thought that you could relax it was time for 'obs'.


Something you don't realise is that hospitals are 24 hour operations. I thought that once the blood was in I would be able to get some sleep, but no. I think the noisiest healthcare assistant on the planet worked on my ward. People were being transfered in and she didn't seem to understand the meaning of the word quiet. 


Hospital days start around 7am with 'Obs' and then following handover 'meds'. 


I think the consultant came to see me around 10 or 11am and told me that they were wanting another CT scan and it was booked for me at 1.15. I asked why it hadn't been done the day before and was told that the radiologist hadn't wanted to subject me to radiation as I was so young. So I whiled away the morning and then the porter came to collect me and whisk me away to 'diagnostic imaging' ( I love all the names hospital departments have). The lovely nurse down there bought me some trashy mags and I settled back for a wait.


'Oh lovely, you're here for your ultrasound' cut through my appreciation of Cheryl Coles latest romance drama. 'No, I had one of those yesterday and am here for a CT scan' I responded. She went off and came back, 'No, definitely an ultrasound. The chief radiologist wants to perform it as yesterdays was inconclusive' 


I accepted this, although was starting to get frustrated by so many people telling me so many different things. By the time the ultrasound started it was after 2pm. The lovely irish nurse kept telling me that they normally stopped work at 1pm and she had to check someone was available to type up the report. I kind of zoned this out. As far I was concerned I was the patient who still had no kind of diagnosis and didn't care if they were doing overtime or not. I wanted to know what was wrong with me and why they kept messing me around with promises of CT scans and delivery of ultrasound scans. 


The scan took about 25 minutes and the operator did express concern about an area of inflammation in my bowel. Then it was all over and I had a little wait in the corridor while the porter came back and delivered me back to the ward.


At this point I was still nil by mouth and was not sure whether I was hungry or not. I got back up to the ward by about 2.45 which was good timing as visiting hours started at 3pm and I could not wait to see Tony and the kids. 


Unfortunately, this was not as happy as I hoped. The kids were scared and sat either in the pushchair or on Tony and would not come and see me at all. This was quite upsetting and I started to worry about what was to come in the future. 


After Tony and the kids had left everyone else got served tea and I waited and waited and waited.


Finally I was thinking about settling down for some sleep around 9pm when the consultant/doctor came to see me. 


He apologised for it being so late and explained that the ultrasound had shown some 'anomalies' which would need to be investigated. When I asked why I had had an ultrasound not a CT he said that it was down to the radiologist. Then the ultimate question......


'Can I have a cup of tea yet?'


The best thing he said was 'YES' you can eat. I was ecstatic, finally something to eat. 


Then the comedown - the only thing available to eat........ A Dry Cheese Sandwich, digestive biscuits and a rather tired looking apple. I would like to say something profound like, it had never tasted so good, but it wasn't/didn't although I did look over the menu for the following day and was excited to be able to select roast chicken and potatoes as well as some jelly for desert. 


The cup of tea however was devine. I have never craved tea before but that cuppa was heaven and could not have been any better. 


And so to sleep, or so I thought