So the day arrived. My lovely friend and colleague, Louise, offered to accompany me as she lives quite close to the Centre. dh had to look after the children (apparently). So, she picked me up and we raced to the centre. And waited.
It brought back some horrible memories, fainting in the reception, shouting at the receptionist to get an appointment for a biopsy without two weeks wait, needles, needles and more needles. It was emotional to go through the doors again. Thank goodness I had my friend with me. I told her that it was brave to accompany me as it wasn't a slam dunk that there would be good results. She was positive and told me I should be too. I am very cautious about positivity where cancer is concerned. I don't have many positive stories to tell after my testing experiences, although I have had a good two years of clear mammograms and relative peace of mind, so, yes, positive.
The same guy injected me as before. He was just as nice as ever, explaining what would happen, asking me how I feel, what I was worried about, what I remembered would happen. I had remembered quite well in fact. He injected me very cleanly and it only hurt a bit (although I have a whopping big bruise now 2 days later). He ushered me through and I was face down on the machine and told not to move. I had ear plugs and earphones to protect me from the noise and I took my friend's advice and counted backwards whilst it was all going on around me. Honestly, it passed fairly quickly and uneventfully. He helped me down, head spinning a bit but, really fine.
Then the shit hit the fan. He informed me that the doctor wanted to do an ultrasound afterwards. I said 'why, what's wrong?' he said, it's ok, he just wants an ultrasound. Alarm bells started ringing loud and clear. Back into the situation I knew so well - more tests because there's something wrong but nobody will tell you why. I went through to the ultrasound room close to tears. Not again, not again. Doctor breezes in. I asked him outright what was the problem. He said they'd just found a bright spot on the MRI (and we know what that means, don't we?) I asked him if this would stop me from having the operation and he said absolutely not, I should go for it. Then after a speedy ultrasound I had to have a mammogram too. By this time I was in tears and once I got into the changing room, I was crying good and proper. He popped his head round the door and said 'ok mammogram clear, no need to worry, you just need to be checked up on in 6 months with another MRI'. Bam, he'd gone.
I stumbled into the reception in tears. My poor friend didn't know what had hit her. To her great credit, she insisted on having another word with the doctor so he could explain properly what was going on. She asked the questions, I was too tearful to speak. She asked good questions and the doctor was as honest as doctors are (ie, not very) but he was very reassuring and said by all means I should go ahead with the operation, he just couldn't let me go without suggesting a follow-up in 6 months, it was probably nothing blah blah blah. I felt (stupidly) reassured because little did I know, he was about to sign the death warrant on my longed-for operation.
My friend kindly drove me home and tried to talk some sense into me, get me to calm down, be zen. I feel so grateful she was with me.
I felt numb and bitterly disappointed and very scared. I haven't slept so well since.
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