Saturday, 31 July: I’ve not yet quite got into the swing of regular blogging after my break and was shocked to find over a week had gone since I last posted.
On Wednesday, 20 July I had the ultrasound on the lump on my neck, which turned out to be three small lymph nodes, suspicious enough in appearance for the doctor to decide to do a biopsy. He said in the lab they will be looking to see if the cells are cancerous or not. If there are cancerous cells he thinks the oncologist will want to look at treatment options.
I’m not sure when I’ll hear the result and I so hate the waiting. Since the tumour in my lung was discovered last July, there have been endless periods of waiting – during which my imagination runs riot, scaring myself stupid with ‘what ifs’. Funny they never include a ‘what if, there’s a totally innocuous reason for the dodgy lymph nodes and all’s well! No, it’s what if the cancer is back, what of it has spread to …. (name every organ in the body) or …?
In the meantime, since Saturday, 16 July I’ve had a painful right calf. I initially assumed I’d pulled a muscle but not only did the pain become more painful, the leg began to feel hot. When, on Wednesday night, I asked the DH if one leg looked bigger than the other he insisted on taking me to A&E. Two hours later, the doctor said someone would call me next morning to come in for an ultrasound on my leg for a suspected deep vein thrombosis (DVT).
The ultrasound was done on Friday (all the slots for the next day had already been taken by the time the A&E doctor put through the request – it was about 2am by then) and the DVT was confirmed. By this time my right ankle had vanished into the general puffiness, my shin was hot with skin so red and shiny it looked like it might just burst open and it was painful.
As the ultrasound request came from A&E it was to there the report was to be sent and I guided back to A&E. Things became slightly bizarre then. First, I was surprised to be called into the triage nurse’s room where she asked me what had brought me to A&E this morning. I explained I’d just had an ultrasound which confirmed a DVT and the report – I pointed to the computer – should according to the radiologist, be there and I was to see a doctor. The nurse maintained she’d never heard of such a system and sent me out to wait.
It wasn’t long before I was called by a doctor, who must have received the report, and who showed me to a bay. He excused himself, saying he’d back in two minutes. A nurse came in and asked if I’d mind moving to a different bay. As she started to push the bed out the door ‘my’ doctor returned to ask where she was going with his patient. “Two bays down,” she replied, “as it will be easier to carry out her eye procedure there.”
Luckily, the confusion was soon sorted out (and it soon would have been anyway the moment someone tried to get anywhere near my eyes!) and after an examination I was prescribed Dalteparin injections. The doctor said a nurse would come to administer the first one and teach me how to do it. Sometime later, saying the nurse was ‘too busy’, he returned to give me the injection (can’t say it constituted a teaching session). The prescription pad was finished and he said he didn’t know how long I’d have to wait until a new one appeared but I could leave if I wanted, with three injections, and call my GP practice to ask for more. I said I’d leave.
My GP was able to write up a prescription for more injections so I’m now stocked up for a few weeks – though I still need to be shown properly how to administer the jags myself. The DH, fortunately, is very competent but if I want to go away by myself I need to learn.
On Monday, 26 July I was taken aback when my oncologist phoned me. It’s only the second time she’s ever called. The biopsy report hasn’t come through, of course, but she’d been informed about the lump and the biopsy and the DVT. She is arranging for me to have a CT scan as soon as possible so she can see exactly what’s going on. And so, I wait.
I hope by this time next week I’ll have news of results.