Not Prepared to Wait

So I couldn't just leave it. If I learned anything from Dad's cancer journey it's to always trust your instincts and to never take no for an answer when it comes to your health.

On Friday I made the decision to call the breast nurses at the hospital. I told them I was really unhappy about being left for 6 weeks. I explained that whilst I completely understood that my biopsies had come back benign, I still had this horrible 'suspicious' bloody substance coming out of me and I really wasn't prepared to wait until the week before Christmas for another scan.

The nurse was lovely and booked me in to see the consultant again today.

We arrived at the hospital but I didn't feel as nervous today. I was on a mission. Today I would fight.

"Leanne Nash"

Date of birth confirmed, we headed in to see the consultant.

"So we aren't supposed to see you for 6 weeks? What are you doing here?" she said in a rather annoyed tone.

I reiterated my concerns to her about not being left for 6 weeks and she asked me to go behind the curtain so she could examine me again. The nurse always comes with me behind the curtain. I told her "I just know my own body and something isn't right." She looked back at me in sympathy and smiled.

The consultant came through and asked me to raise my arm. She felt my breast and pinched either side of nipple. A lot of the dark brown blood came out.  She stepped back and asked me to get dressed again. The nurse handed me some tissues to clean myself up.

Once I was dressed I returned to my seat.

"I think what you have is a papilloma which most people just live with, they aren't harmful, but since you have the discharge I can offer you a microductectomy." She ran through all of the risks involved, the loss of sensation I'd feel, the scarring I'd have. I really felt as though she was trying to put me off having the operation. I just kept nodding "That's fine." I knew I was making the right decision.

Chris asked a few questions, each time it was as through she was trying to make him feel stupid for asking it. She was clearly still annoyed we had come here only a few days later and not waited the 6 weeks. Finally Chris asked, "What would have happened if we had waited the 6 weeks but Leanne was still bleeding like that?" She replied that she would have booked me in for the operation anyway.

We left feeling a sense of achievement. We had shaved 5 weeks off my waiting time. My operation is booked in for 7th December but I'll need to come back on 27th November for my pre op.

Grief

Grief always hits you when you least expect it, the tears stream down your face without warning. I really miss Dad’s company on the train home from work. I miss seeing him dashing down the stairs at Central to make it in to the seat I always saved him. I miss us laughing together at the poor Moorfields commuters trying to squeeze on the train. I miss hearing the office gossip and him telling me about places on the journey back. I miss banging on the train window to get his attention on the days when he just missed me and the train zooms past. I miss him so much x 

Core Biopsy Results Day

We're back again. Only this time the anxiety is even more intense. Today the waiting room is full. We stand until another patient is called. Again my heart beats like a train. I hate this waiting room. Today as we waited a lady came out of the consultants room in tears, everyone watched as she was led off to another room to contemplate her journey.

"Leanne Nash"

We rise and I give my date of birth to the nurse as usual. Today we are taken in to a different room and I don't recognise the lady in front of me. She introduces herself as a registrar. She explains that my results have come back.

I take a deep breath.

The results have come back as a 2 on a scale of 1 to 5. This is classed as benign.

I begin to cry and explain my worries that something just isn't right. I tell her about what had happened to my dad. She tells me not to worry but I will need to come back in 6 weeks for another ultrasound.

We left but the doubt remains. I feel a real sense of unease.

RIP Dad

At 3.10 am this morning I received the call I'd been dreading. It was the nursing home that were taking care of my dad. They said it was time. We needed to go in.

 It's the worst call I have ever received. My heart was pounding. Now I had to call mum. How do I do that? How can I call my mum and tell her that we have to go and say goodbye.

Shaking, I dial the number. A heart wrenching conversation occurs and I pull my clothes on.

I kiss my husband and kids and drive to mums with tears streaming down my face. As I approach mums I try and wipe the tears away. I need to stay strong, I need to look after her today.

Mum gets in the car and we make our way there. We talk about how they might have made a mistake. Two weeks ago we were told he might only have a few days left and they were wrong then.

Deep down we knew it was coming but we desperately hoped that this was all a bad dream.

Unfortunately it was not. A few hours later he was gone. Cancer has taken Dad. Stolen him away from us.

Our hearts are broken.