When I was discharged from hospital after my operation I knew that the next trip there would be on 1st May for the results ... just needed the appointment time. The letter finally arrived on Friday plastered with 1st class post but as usual our job sharing muppet postman had sat on it for several days ..... 3 to be precise. Lazy bastards!
So 3pm it was.
As usual we got to Exeter ridiculously early and parked in the carpark 15 minutes walk from RD&E as there was no point in even looking for a space on site. So ridiculously early that we were sitting in the waiting room at 2.40pm. There were several other ladies who I recognised from my operation day but only one who acknowledge me. To be fair the others looked petrified and a smiley me probably didn't help their nerves.
Since my last appointment at this clinic when I saw the registrar and was given my operation date I haven't worried about the results, I don't know why but the cancer nurse was so reassuring and said that as the bastard cancer was so small and that as they hadn't found anything under my arm during the ultrasound it would be a matter of removing the bastard and some lymph nodes and then radio therapy and then Tamoxifen for 5 years. I believed her.
One by one the other ladies were called in ............... the clock ticked on and at 3.45pm I was still waiting. Then a nurse came out and announced that Mr Ferguson had been called to theatre and so the clinic which was running 30 minutes late and now would be running 45 minutes to an hour late.
Errr no ... by my reckoning it was already running 45 minutes late so with another 45 minutes we were looking at me being called at 4.30pm.
The carpark ticket was only until 5.10pm so we would be cutting it a bit fine!
A bit of a dilemma then ..... in the end OH asked at reception if they had any idea what time I might be called. Someone went and enquired and apparently I was next on the list but they had no idea when I'd get called. The clock ticked on.
At 4.30pm I told OH he had better go and get another carpark ticket but he refused saying that he needed to be with me for the results.
At 4.40pm we had the same discussion.
At 4.45pm I was called into a consulting room and had to put on a rather fetching poncho affair which opened at the front and wait........
Then the fire alarm went off ............. a nurse came in and said it was ok and that we didn't have to evacuate. Thank god for that!!
The clock ticked on.
At 4.55 we had the discussion again about the carpark by which time it was 'you need to go and get a fucking ticket' and OH refusing saying he would pay the fine.
And then a young Doctor came in to ask a few question, and look at my operation site ........... he really was YTS ...... after a few minutes he removed my dressings, felt my boob and then said that Mr Ferguson would be along soon.....
At 5pm the man himself arrived checked my boob and underarm out and then let me get dressed again.
He then got to the point, the bastard cancer had actually been larger than they thought at 7mm but was succesfully removed along with some healthy tissue and then said the magic words 'its good news it hasn't spread'
Did he just say it hasn't spread? ............... I actually sat there and stared at him trying to take it in, I don't know why because its what I had thought I was going to be told.
Yes the bastard has gone!!!
After he explained the next step would be to see the oncologist to discuss radio therapy and that I would also have to take tamoxifen for the next 5-10 years it was 5.10pm and the carpark ticket had just run out............................
It was obviously our lucky day ...... getting back to the carpark at 5.30pm we hadn't got a ticket! the parking attendant must have knocked off early!!
Trying to get out of Exeter was a nightmare and we ended up going around Cowick bridges a full 360 degrees because some bastard forced OH out of his lane and we didn't realise the road split! By this time I was so fed up and had a tantrum and cursed and swore at all and sundry ..... yes I know I should have been on top of the world but I hate traffic jams and I just wanted to go home.
That's wonderful news! So pleased for you...we are living with the bastard up my dads arse...it's a bummer...literally. But no baby bastards for you!
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