Sustained by singing and praying, my physical needs asserted themselves and I recalled that I had had no lunch and a very light supper at about 4.30. It was now 3 am and I was starving! The nurse on call was able to bring me hot milk and weetbix, which I gobbled up. By 5 am I felt well enough to walk the very short distance to the bathroom and not call for a bed pan! Yay!
After breakfast and a sit down shower, I waited for the call to Nuclear medicine. A male nurse brought me an iodine drink, and I had to drink half at 11.30 and the other half at 12. DH arrived at 11.55 closely followed by Polish K, ward receptionist doubling as nurse aide with a wheelchair. Get een my darlink!, ve must rush down they are ready for you now! Off we went, me gulping down the lemony with pooey aftertaste drink. Polish K parked me outside the MRI room, in the corridor. DH hugged me and left to do some shopping. "Now my darlink you vill have a beautiful time with these peeple - the men are so handsome, you vil look at them and you vill not be scared of the noise" and she left.
10 minutes of sitting in a corridor looking like a cancer victim is not fun, so I was very pleased when two girls came to get me and put me on the bed part of the MRI machine. Because I had advised that I am claustrophobic, a helmet was put on me with gaps in it, and an angled mirror would enable me to see them and the handsome men. Of course they removed my glasses didn't they!
They put headphones on me and piped through classical music, as the MRI machine started it's construction site noises. I didn't hear any wolf whistles, but what I did hear of the music made me see my Mommy in my mind's eye, just when I needed her. It was a compilation of many popular classical pieces, including Beethoven's 5th, which were bound together by a continuous beat. We actually used to have the same record at home, and my Mom loved it. I could just see her conducting the air and dancing her head, and making us happy with her joy in the music.
15 minutes later one of the blurry men got me out and into the next room for the full body scan. If you have ever had an iodine injection for a scan you know what it's like and I don't need to describe it. The best thing about it is that it is over very quickly. Back to room 230.
By late afternoon, I had still not seen The Doobster (Mr D's moniker according to the nurses of the neuro ward). We needed to tell the boys what was up but we had no real information as yet. My PS and I just held each other, going through a gamut of emotions, but overall love. We would have to wait. Thank goodness for distracting annoying younger brothers and inflatable medical gloves. All too soon they went home and I asked for a sleeping tablet instead of another night awake.
The Doobster arrived about 8.30 and confirmed what the other doctors have been saying all along - I am very unusual. It is very rare, he said, for a woman with breast cancer to have a brain tumour that is not cancerous. So he doesn't trust it - he will consult with a group of radiologists and neurosurgeons on Friday morning, and get their opinions. Then on Friday afternoon he will tell me what will happen. I was very relieved that I would be in hospital for a few days as my symptoms were hard to bear, and I was very weak. Thursday was almost as bad as Tuesday - and after sprinting 100 metres and jumping the hurdle of my bed to have my sit down shower, my return to bed made it to the floor, to be found by Polish K who callled the nurses. "Come queekly to help this beauiful voman, she is on the floor!" 3 came rushing and got me into bed, and took all my vital signs. "She's a bit tacky" said the one with the machine.
Over Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, aside from my family, I had some lovely visitors - work colleagues, church minister, the Breast Nurse (who serendipitiously was there when my friend with another type of cancer arrived, and was able to help her), another pastoral care person, and another who later brought me DVD's to watch, and then surprisingly, my onco's friendly receptionist. My cup overflows with friends. My wonderful friend C and her family had engulfed the youngestPS since my chemo in their loving arms and kept him happy, comforted and distracted. I waited patiently for the Doobster on Friday, but sadly he had emergency surgery, and I was in again for another night.
I slept for 71/2 hours that night and awoke at 5.26 tin the morning. A good time to read the bible and pray, and sing croakily with the birds. Room 230 is small, and has big windows looking out to a view of Mount Wellington, and the hill of Lenah Valley. I decided to open the lovely thick cream drapes. The night nurse saw my light on and came to offer me anything? Coffee would be great, and he brought me a strong cup! I settled down snugly and watched as the sun turned the browny green indistinct mountain into a glowing pink and orange sharp relief of crags and slopes and trees. Then as the sky blued, the houses on the hill began to wink and gleam. Oh what a beautiful morning!
After breakfast, and another cup of coffee the Doobster arrived! Tantantara! OK. All the experts confirm I have no more cancer in my body. The tumour - or lump in my head - is NOT cancerous. It is either a ventricular lesion or a meningioma. I was told by the nurse that if I have to have a lump in my brain that's the kind to have! I am to have 2 weeks rest and get strong, and have love and fun with my family and friends, and then on 15th June, after a comparative MRI on 14th, I will have really cool brain surgery.
I was able to come home and tell my relieved Boys and call my family in SA.
Our God is awesome!
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