Pulling at the heart strings

The noisy machine was ok. Not as easy as last time before the op, where I had a few quick scans feet first up to my waist. This time I was fully immersed head-first for 30 minutes with yet another tap in my arm so that 'contrast' could be remotely administered. The senior radiographer was very re-assuring, saying she had personally tested all the scans herself. This surprised me until I learnt that you can have as much MR as you like without detrimental effects. This really helped to relax me and we kept up a good dialogue on the intercom between scans.

I still don't have the results of this scan - but I have been hugely reassured by a few friends who I have spoken to on the phone - one a doctor herself who sent these lovely flowers. With the confidence of others building my own conviction, I somehow know that the cyst will be confirmed and I have long since stopped worrying about this.

Yesterday, I visited the RUH to have a "long-line" inserted in readiness for chemo. Sarah has taken the week off work and has been a rock for this somewhat daunting week. I am not very brave and the thought of having some pipework shoved into my jugular to dangle into the superior vena cava feeding the heart seemed to occupy many an idle thought over the weekend. Further assurance from the sunflower doctor, "You've already been through much worse...", got me into the right frame of mind and with some trepidation I approached the procedure with a can-do attitude. The procedure is done under a local anaesthetic so I was able to witness the full fear of a theatre fitted out with ultrasound and x-ray location and a plethora of monitor screens to locate the vein and guide the doctor to the right location above my ticker. The doctor assured me that he had a cupboard full of local and I wouldn't feel a thing. The nurse was re-assuring and procedure was completed within 45 minutes. Most of the pain resulted from the  injections (I still hate needles). There was quite a bit of pushing and shoving, but this was disconcerting rather than painful. I was helped up from the operating table and was able to see the line looping over my collar bone and dangling in the vein on the x-ray monitor; almost fascinating, as I began to relax safe in the knowledge that it was all over.

Sarah was waiting outside (they wouldn't let her in: a call beyond duty to even ask in my opinion) and together we returned to the day case ward - me in my chariot, Sarah running to keep up with the porter who had obviously watched the Japanese grand prix over the weekend. I had a cup of tea and waited until we were cleared to leave during which time I became aware of the local anaesthetic deserting me. As we walked through the hospital, every turn of my head or minor movement of my arm translated into a weird pulling sensation in my neck and a dragging sensation somewhere inside my chest. We stopped at the pharmacy to get some paracetamol for the journey home.

After a weekend of near normality - I haven't felt so good in weeks - I now feel properly like a patient again: resting rather than doing, constant modest pain, strange pulling sensations, holding myself in fear of triggering worse and yet more non-organic body parts. I count down the hours to my next dose of pain killer as I read more emails and texts of support (thanks) and think about getting some news on here. It's ironic to think that with such a severe diagnosis, I have yet to feel any pain as a result of the cancer itself. All discomfort can be attributed to the treatment and, assuming the treatment is successful, this will be the case over the coming months. Of course, I'm lucky - twenty years ago this would have gone undetected until very painful and then ....