Chapter 2

The day of the MRI arrived. I was a little nervous because I had heard all these horrid stories of how people had sometimes felt claustrophobic during the procedure. The staff were very friendly, and again made me feel at ease. Wes had given me a CD to listen to by Michael Kiwanuka. The staff gave me some headphones, and they played my chosen CD for me to listen to during the procedure. Even with my music on, the noise of the MRI machine was like a dentist’s drill – but louder. I concentrated on my breathing and closed my eyes. I tried to imagine being on a beach (the kind they had in Benidorm when the hotel next to the beach was getting built). The procedure took about half an hour. I was told my MRI results would be discussed at the next MDT (Multi-Disciplinary Meeting), which takes place weekly on a Wednesday.

Towards the end of the week I chased up the appointment with the consultant’s secretary. She told me no appointment had been made yet, but she believed that what I had were cysts, and that in her opinion this was most likely good news. It was so comforting to know that a secretary felt that her experience over the years, being the consultant’s PA, gave her the confidence and knowledge to inform me of this kind of positive news!

In the second week of December I was given an appointment to see the consultant in clinic.

Early December. MRI results day. Wes and I drove early to Telford (we needed matchsticks to keep our eyes open). Everyone was rooting for me; I had had numerous messages to say, ‘Thinking of you,’ from kind friends and family, who had taken a small moment to send me a much-appreciated text. We sat in the waiting room as people got called one by one.

Eventually my name was called. I felt sick to the stomach and my pulse was racing. I was introduced to both the consultant (she had smiley eyes) and the Clinical Nurse Specialist for the Gynaecology/Oncology team. The consultant discussed the results with me. It appeared that I had two pelvic masses, 22 cm size in total, and that one seemed fluid-filled. There were no issues with my lymph nodes. The consultant seemed very positive that there was no cancer, but she said it couldn’t be totally ruled out until the biopsy. The plan was surgery, but she would need a Colorectal Surgeon in theatre alongside her, and she would get me a date as soon as possible. I signed all the paperwork to consent to parts of my body being removed. The Clinical Nurse Specialist then took us next door to go into further detail about the surgery. She gave me some written information on the procedure and my hospital stay. She explained that even though they did not think I had cancer, I would remain under the care of the Oncology team as I had now been referred to them.

I had such mixed emotions at this point. So – I apparently did not have cancer now, so why had the registrar told me differently? Was it definitely him who had got it wrong? Surely it must be, as the ‘mass’ was the gynaecology consultant’s specialist field of work?

I sent a message to all those closest to me to tell them the good news. I still had a niggle in my mind that I could not explain to anyone, but everybody was really happy with the news.

I was now dealing with a new emotion; I was about to become half the woman I was. The procedure I was facing was a total abdominal hysterectomy. I did not want any more children and luckily neither did Wes (he was happy with his little man), but it was still a hard thing to accept, knowing that any choice would be taken away from you.

It was a very difficult situation to explain to friends, as everyone was ecstatic (so was I of course). I seemed to not have cancer anymore. But a full hysterectomy….? This was huge. Of course I started googling and reading about hysterectomies, and how you can put on weight, suffer with vaginal dryness, a reduced sex drive and mood swings… It all sounded so wonderful. Oh, how lucky I am to be female!

Feelings ran high with friends and family. People were angry with the registrar. They could not understand why he would say it was nasty; ‘How could do that and get away with it?’ But I just replied with, ‘He is human, he would never have said it if he didn’t believe it.’

I still had that niggling doubt – or was it just shock, going from believing I had cancer and hurting inside like never before, to now getting my head around the fact that apparently it was not cancer? I was scared to deal with this, as I was too angry to sit and think what I had been through in the last few weeks, all the thoughts and feelings I had had to deal with.

I returned to work on administration duties. I worked part-time using annual leave to enable me to do this. I looked as if I was about to give birth.  

I was in a lot of discomfort, I struggled to fit into my clothes, was hardly sleeping due to constantly needing to pee, and I was taking Codeine to keep the pain under control. Work was not the best atmosphere to be in either, due to ‘words’ having been had between myself and another member of staff before I went off. And I felt people were staring at my stomach; I wanted to scream, ‘No, I am not pregnant!’ The amusing part of this was when I went to the pub and had a few alcoholic drinks, with people looking at me in disgust… I did look like I was a pregnant lady getting drunk.

In December Wes and I enjoyed some evenings out and a night away in Liverpool with friends, Alina and Ade. I struggled through this month, but the happiness and the love I felt for Wes got me through, along with Chaz’s support. We had our first Christmas together and it was magical, and we also brought in the New Year together with a bottle of Prosecco and much laughter. I had very mixed feelings ‘bringing in the new year,’ as there was so much uncertainty. Needless to say, I don’t recall the walk home. Christmas however did not pass without sadness; my good friend lost her mum on Boxing Day, a cardiac case, and a terrible sadness.

On my return to work in January I was bigger than ever. I had wind pain and farts that I could knock a room out with. I was surprised they didn’t make my glasses steam up! Colleagues joked about the amount of sprouts I must have eaten. I really did begin to struggle. I usually arrived at work being really breathless. My manager sent me home and I took some ‘adhoc’ annual leave days. I chased the hospital to see if they had a date for my surgery as yet.

Eventually on January 13^th (lucky for some), I had a call to tell me my operation would be on the 17^th. Wes and I enjoyed a romantic break in Llandudno. On our way we visited friends, Cheryl and Nige. They gave us a bottle of Prosecco to take with us. We stayed in a big old hotel, and our room had a sea view. We had so much fun and laughter. We ended the evening sitting in a bus stop drinking our Prosecco out of plastic cups, looking out to sea. I felt so happy and content whenever I was with Wes, despite being in pain.