The Big C

Just in case you don’t follow me on Twitter or Facebook, and you don’t get my emails…

Well, it’s not good news. I’ve been on cancerwatch for about 5 years, after a dodgy smear test. I had my third cone biopsy on 29 April; and then the hospital called last Tuesday to say they had arranged an appointment for me with another gynaecologist for later in the week. Two sleepless nights later, I decided that I couldn’t face it on my own, so took Mum with me. And it’s a good thing I did. I never like crying in public, particularly in front of my mother.

The new gynaecologist was a more senior chap who told me that the histology reports had found that the pre-cancerous cells had started moving below the surface, and were pretty sure to be getting cancerous. So there you have it. I have Stage 1 cancer of the cervix.

It’s still very much in its early stages, but they want to move quickly to make sure it doesn’t spread. I’ve got to have a few more tests to make sure that the rest of me is OK. If the rest of me is OK, they’ll book me in to St Thomas’s (more convenient for the surgeon, apparently) for a full hysterectomy, including ovaries, and the removal of a few lymph glands to make sure that the cancer isn’t spreading elsewhere. Not sure when this will happen, but it will probably be in mid- to late June. After that I’ll be convalescing for however long it takes to get better (around six weeks, apparently).

On the good side, The Baronistas are being really supportive, and my boss is being practical and sympathetic. So at least I don’t have to worry about work – except that I’ll be crawling the walls with boredom after a couple of weeks. .

We’ve also accepted an offer on the flat, so we’re going ahead with Mum’s Master Plan, though we might all be living together in the big house while I get better and Mum finds her granny flat. Which will be…interesting.

I might blog and twitter, but it depends on how I feel. We had a nasty scare yesterday, when I started bleeding profusely for no apparent reason. The doctors in A&E said that the cone biopsy wound was particularly deep and it looked like it had picked up a mild infection, which made me bleed. A lot. It’s all cauterized now, but I can’t tell you how scared I was. Mr S was brilliant: calm and quietly supportive, and only leaving my side to get me a copy of the Guardian.


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