It's not cancer!

So yesterday was a roller coaster ride.  Not sure I can cope with too many days like that.

I actually slept ok the night beforehand - I think because of the knowledge that we were finally going to find out one way or the other what the problem was.  So in the morning at the school run I was actually quite happy, it being a relief to finally be the day where we got the answers.

We got ourselves to Preston Hospital in time to go to Booths for lunch.  Here the butterflies set in - I couldn't eat my soup and gave up in the end.  We did a little bit of shopping and then collected chocolates from the car to give to the staff and Anaesthetists of the Gynae ward - I didn't stay long, I didn't wish to see the ward or staff, too many horrible memories.

We then went to out-patients ready for our 1.30 appointment.  We were ushered into a room at 2.00 and then 10 minutes later a Dr who I had never seen before arrived.  Nick Wood was on leave, so she was doing appointments instead.  I was quite disappointed, as obviously Nick Wood knew my history, and she knew nothing about me at all.

She asked if I knew my results, of course we didn't.  I asked if she knew my results - she did.  She said, I'm pleased to tell you it isn't 'blah blah blah' I didn't catch what she said.  I asked her to repeat what she said, so she said 'it isn't cancer'.  Wow!  I just sat and stared at her and Matt burst into tears!

It completely threw us as Nick Wood had more than hinted at us that it was cancer, so we were fully expecting the opposite diagnosis.  I was completely prepared to be hit with it with treatment plans etc etc.  She said that in her 9 years at the hospital she had never seen an histology report quite like it.  They tested the cysts from all the parts of my body and they were all cancer free - which is very unusual.  In fact she said she had to read the report twice, once with an Oncology specialist nurse just to check that she fully understood it but it was true there was no cancer.  What I had were inclusion cysts - cysts that my body had produced, full of regular cells, nothing at all abnormal at all.

I had so many questions, but it was obvious she didn't want to spend much time with us.  She asked if I was passing my bowels and water - if so, all would be ok.  She did mention though that it takes 3 months to completely recover from a hysterectomy - so I guess that is the date I need to look at for Boxercise etc.  She had a quick look at my scar, which she said was fine - the knot at the bottom will fall off at some stage (apparently the internal stitches take 2-3 months to dissolve) and that was that.  She said that as it wasn't cancer, I was now off the Preston Hospital list and would be referred back to Morecambe Bay Hospitals - most likely Lancaster, that I should expect a follow up appointment in say 6 months, but if I don't hear anything then I should chase them up.  We asked about the cysts around the liver, but she was disinterested, they aren't cancerous so they aren't a problem.  We were so taken aback we didn't really know what to say or behave!

It wasn't until we were walking back to the car that we realised that I haven't had any dealing with Lancaster Hospital so wouldn't be able to chase up an appointment there as I have no point of contact.  With the cysts in the liver area would it be gynae or a different dept that do the follow up?

We were finished by 2.30.  Tom was going to Finn's for tea, so we needed to kill some time.  As it was a beautiful day we decided to head to Blackpool for a stroll.  It was here that I started to cry and then the two of us were at it on and off for the rest of the day.  I was finding it hard to compute, I was relieved, but I was having trouble understanding just what had happened?  If the cysts were non threatening, did I not need the operation at all?  Matt said that I shouldn't think that, and anyway I had symptoms, and there were 100s of cysts and they would have caused trouble if not halted at some stage.  I guess he's right.  I still don't understand how they were made, or whether my body could make them again.  I do have the email address of Nick Wood - so I could email him to ask him, or I could go to my GP and ask her?  Not sure what to do.

We were both emotional wrecks for the rest of the day.  We had a drink in the one funky hipster
Blackpool bar and then went for a stroll on a pier, had a go in the amusements (couldn't get rid of my 2ps as I kept winning, ended up just pouring them into the machine to get rid of them - probably should have played the more expensive machines as I was having a lucky day!)  We then drove back to Kate's (me crying from time to time) and then had a good hug, cry and prosseco at Kate's before arriving back home.

How sweet is this?

At home we found someone had been playing with the stones on our drive - we guessed correctly that it was Janine.  She arrived about half an hour after we got back and we spent the evening drinking white wine and chatting and crying.  We didn't bother with dinner, a liquid intake tonight.  It had been a funny old day.  We went to bed and reality hit that it wasn't all over when I had to self inject again (third time lucky this time - it's getting harder and harder).  I then woke up at 3am and that was it for the night - I guess I'm still stressed and anxious, might take a while to recover from the last couple of months!  I was beginning to think the whole thing was a very bad dream, but my scar and tummy ache is testament to it not being so.