No, my dear, it's not a Noo-dle, it's a Nod-ule!
Yesterday I went back to Royal Surrey. To see Warrior Prince. Cue fangirl mode.
I had to wait over an hour. Whilst in the waiting room I swear I saw Neil Morrisey (or a very good-look-alike!),
Anyway, eventually he called my name. He said "Wow, you look really glam today. Amazing." I said "Oh, I have been out to lunch" (blatant lie!). Anyway in we go, for the obligatory, ex-am-in-at-ion. Lots of poking and prodding. I also got a neck masage. Not a real one, you understand. He was checking for lumpy bits. I pointed out them out - "here, here, here, oh, over here and one in my armpit - damn I can't find it now!".
I got dressed and then we sat down to discuss Tamoxifen, and all that jazz. He seemed to think my dodgy side effects might actually be from my thyroid drug, as I have been on it a long time (eighteen months). He said it may also have caused the ALT issue. I said I was only on 5mg every other day, and was due to stop in January. I also told him that I was feeling very much better now I was off the Tamoxifen. He looked quizzical. I tried to lighten the mood. I said "Perhaps it's all in my mind? You know, psychosomatic? Maybe I am crazy?" He smiled and shook his head. "No, Emma, you are the most down-to-earth, least crazy person I know. I am sure you are not imagining it". (I thought to myself. Really? Are you sure? Personally I feel I have been driven mad by the whole cancer bullshit. Deranged. Loony. Loopy. Lost the plot. Confused. Stark, Raving Frigging Bonkers!). So we had a discussion and we decided that I will stop the Carbizamole and go back on to the Tamoxifen (swopsies, one drug for another). And he would see me again in eight weeks to see how I got on. His words "I want to keep my eye on you. I'm sorry if its a pain if you have to come back so soon." And I said, nonchantly, "No its ok. That's fine" (I have no problem at all sir, with seeing you again in eight weeks time - cue internal fangirling again!)
I asked the big question "What happens if I feel rubbish again? What do we do?" He groaned and I thought he might headbutt the desk in frustration. He replied "I go and hang myself in the corner" and I said "Well, could you please do that quietly and not make a fuss, thank you very much." And how we laughed. I said "I guess there's no chance I can stay off the darned thing" And he said NO CHANCE.
And then we looked at the scans. First up the bone scan. He showed it to me on the computer screen. I had spots in various places - elbows, knees, ankles. They were all just normal wear-and-tear. Routine stuff. He said "Emma, you are falling apart!" and I nearly swore, and then said "Damn that can't happen yet, I have gigs to go to man!" And he didn't mention the kidney thingy so all must be ok on that front.
Then we got onto the CT scan. He showed me that one too. And there was a lump. Or what he called a "nodule". Slap bang, right in the middle of the "new" boob. The good boob that replaced the evil, left boob of malevolence. And he said it was very weird and nobody had seen the like of it before (I thought, Oh Shit! Here we go again!). It's a nodule that appears to be right in the middle of my flap, i.e it has come from my tummy? It could just be a fatty deposit or a cyst or some such anamoly. Or it could be something more serious. In any case they have to check it out. Just in case. So I have to have another ultrasound and scan and possibly a biopsy. I groaned and rolled my eyes. "Really? Not again!" (GGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!).
And then we were all done. I wished him Merry Christmas. And we shook hands. I will see him in eight weeks. I haven't taken the Tamoxifen yet. Might leave that for a wee bit longer.
And just when you thought we could forget about the poxy, effing cancer, M-I-L has her first chemo session on, wait for it, Friday 13th December (deferred from last week). What is it with bloody Friday 13th? Someone should make a movie or something.