A Painful MRI

My 3 monthly MRI is due. Yay. Not. Pfft. I hate MRIs, they are so claustrophobic and loud and painful, bleurgh. This one also ties in with the one my onc requested I had at the mixed bag meeting.

Beppe is currently broken 😞 There’s an issue with the coolant or something so Lesley at work has very kindly been driving me to and from the office. She kindly takes me to work today and I work all day until Rob picks me up at 16:30 and drives me to East Surrey for my scan. 

As this scan is my 3 month check, it’s a long one too. The nurses take 7 bloody tries before they get the cannula in. It’s not their fault. I hate my veins and I bet the nurses do too! 😥 I’m in the tube of hideousness for almost 2 hours. It’s loud and bloody painful. Painful because I cannot move and my back is so ruddy sore at the moment. Also painful because they strap a chest plate type thing on me that pushes on my sore chest. They have also properly clamped my ears in and they hurt too! The music that sometimes plays through the headphones to mask the noise is broken so I just have to lie there listening to all the loud noises. I try to pass the time by singing to myself, but then that makes me dance my feet. I get told off for moving and they have to restart part of the scan. Oops. Poor Rob is just sat outside, playing on his Switch, bored out of his mind. Eventually it’s done. I am helped off the bed because I feel like I could collapse. I am busting for a wee, I get dressed, go to the loo and as I am getting up I catch the cannula and it rips out of my arm. Blood pours everywhere, all over the floor, Rob goes grey, uh oh. The nurses clean me up and we are finally allowed to go.

On the way home in the car, I reflect that I’m actually fully expecting to see progression when I get the results of this scan. My back is immensely sore at the moment. I just cannot see how the spine has not got worse. I take pain relief constantly. At work I use a heat pad non-stop. I am fed up of popping so many painkillers, taking nightly oramorph and disturbing both Rob and my sleep, it just cannot carry on this way. I have already made my mind up that when I see Dr P tomorrow I will be asking for a blast of palliative radiotherapy on my back, progression or not. This will mean I probably have a week of awful pain whilst the rads do their thing but then hopefully some pain will ease. 

MRI Scan and a Gig!

Today was a bloody weird mixture of a day!

First thing I had a delightful MRI at East Surrey hospital. It has been snowing here for the past few days, luckily yesterday Rob put winter tyres on Beppe (my little Italian car!) and we drove to Redhill. The MRI was of my head, spine and chest. It was awful. Normally I am okay with MRIs, I just get on with them because there isn't much else you can do. But since my denosumab last week, I have been having massive pain flares. I had to lie very still on the hard MRI bed, with my head strapped into a thing that felt like a scold's bridle and a weight thing on my chest for two. fecking. hours. When you are having extreme pain in your spine, not being allowed to move whilst lying on something hard is not fun at all. I could cope with the beeping, whirring and clunking noises but it was unbelievably painful to lie that still for that long. Anyway I did it. Legend.

We then drove in the snow to Gatwick as we are having a few fun days in London. We caught the train from Gatwick up to London and got to our funky hub hotel. We chilled out for a bit, had dinner at The Diner and then went to a tiny venue called Hoxton Hall to see a singer Rob and I love called Aurora. There must have only been 250 people there so it was intimately awesome.

She also sung one of my motivation songs called Warrior. Have a listen

Ovary Scan

Today I had a phone call from East Surrey hospital saying they had a cancellation and could I go in that afternoon for the scan on my ovaries. Not an ideal way to spend a Saturday afternoon but hey, if it means things get moving quicker then let's get on with it.

We arrived early and as there was no queue I was seen straight away. It was a fairly "invasive" scan but was over in under 10 minutes. The lady doing the scan very kindly told me then and there that everything looked normal meaning I didn't have to wait for any results. It's definitely the little things like this lady's thoughtfulness in telling me straight away that make this journey just a tiny bit easier.

To add a bit more polish to the shiny news, the car park ticket didn't charge us for parking either - small wins!

PET Scan

So today (one month on from receiving the dreadful news) I had to have a PET scan. That takes me to 8 appointments this week (5x rads, 2 x oncology appointments and this PET scan) at three different hospitals. I am absolutely exhausted, this is fatigue like I have never felt before. I cannot think straight or even string a sentence together. Typing this is probably a stupid idea. In fact, it definitely is. TBC after a sleep.....

It's amazing what a restorative sleep can do! Feel betterer enough to type and actually make sense!

So this morning I had to have a PET scan at Guildford so that there are baseline scans to compare things to if I get on the drugs trial. I had to fast for 6 hours before and drink a litre of water. We arrived at the imaging unit and I was taken in to the scanning area. There I was given a radioactive glucose injection in my arm and then had to lie down for an hour (no reading, no phone, no iPad) whilst the radioactive material worked its way round my body. After the hour I had to pee so I had an empty bladder and then was taken to the scanner. It was a bit like the CT scanner I'd seen before but more enclosed. I had to lie on a bed, arms above my head and not move. The scanner whirred around me and I moved through it. Half an hour later I was done. You don't feel anything whilst having it, just a bit claustrophobic. Then I had to pee again (they like you to get as much of the radioactivity out of you as possible) and I could leave. I'm not sure if I will actually get sight of any results from this or not, I suppose only if it brings any bad news of spread elsewhere. Whilst I am hoping beyond hope this is not the case, I am pretty convinced it's on the other side of my hip as this area is hurting very much at the moment. At least I know that if this is the case, I can have rads on it or the upcoming systemic treatment (whatever that may be) would get it. At least I'm in the system now.

CT & Bone Scan

Today I had my two scans at East Surrey hospital. I slept so badly last night, I'm so fecking terrified. My mind is going to some really bad places, running down rabbit warrens, on and on, it's impossible to stop it. I know I don't know yet but I'm pretty convinced it's going to be shitty news.

Anyway, I had to be nil by mouth from 06:40, 4 hours before the CT scan (not hard, I can't eat at the moment anyway, I projectile vomit, 6lbs lost since Thursday...). We drove to the hospital with me trying to drink water (you have to drink a litre in an hour before the scan) and not vom. We signed in at the reception and then I was led away, told to put a gown on and was then led through to the CT machine. I had a drip thing put in my hand and started crying. The team were really nice and explained everything that was going on but lying under the whirring machine brought everything crashing down and smacked me in the face. Basically they are checking my organs for cancer. If there is cancer in the organs I will die from it. Cancer in the organs or bones is treatable but not curable, and that's the rabbit warren I've been going down.

Then I went round to nuclear medicine and had a radioactive dye inserted into my veins and was told to go away for 3 hours to give the dye time to get around my body.

Rob and I left and went for some lunch but I am literally finding it impossible to eat, everything makes me want to hurl. In the end after a lot of debate I chose an open chicken sandwich, I managed about 8 mouthfuls before I had to run to the loo to be sick. I'm in such a state of overwhelm my body just rejects everything. It's so bad as I need to keep my strength up but I'm finding it so hard.

We head back to nuclear medicine and I have the bone scan, it takes 22 minutes exactly. I'm lying on a bed (my head saw it as a mortuary slab - told you I was in a dark place) and a camera starts at the top of my body taking photo after photo until it reaches my toes. And then it's done.

I should have the results from these scans and my biopsy all in one go next Tuesday. Basically if it is cancer, they want to be able to tell me everything all in one go. It's shit I have to wait but it does make sense that way.

Fucksticks

P.S. Scans are shit but sparkly shoes are always amazing.

Fucksticks

I've been so scared that the doctor had misdiagnosed me that I kept on going for appointments and pushing and being a general pain in the arse.

Thank fuck I did. On Tuesday I went to the breast specialist who felt my areas of concern and told me she was "not concerned" but that she would refer me for an ultrasound anyway.

Today I had that ultrasound and they have done a biopsy as they have spotted a bit they want to investigate further. But basically they think my cancer is back. I have to wait a max of 7 days for the results to come back and they are also booking me in for a bone scan and a CT scan. Holy fucking shit.

Unlucky for some

Friday 13th. Joy. I'm not generally supersistious, but when I get THE letter on the door mat advising me of my upcoming mammogram, of course it would bloody be on Friday 13th.

Rob couldn't come to the scan so Mish kindly came with me instead. I go to work in the morning, trying to distract myself with inane tasks, they don't help. Drive on autopilot to Mish's house, she drives me to the hospital. I walk the familiar walk to the X-ray department, check in, get the usual quizzical look from the receptionist (head tilt + curiosity + you're so young) and get directed (I don't listen, I already know the way) to the mammogram waiting area.

Another young woman is waiting there, she has the evident chemo curls, I smile at her and wonder if she is on YBCN. I get the usual impatient leg jiggle, mind wandering all over the place. Then I'm called in. I know the procedure, top off, details checked, the mammographer's cold hands, standing awkwardly at the machine, being too short so having to stand on tiptoes but stand as still as possible. The scans are done, they hurt. I look at the mammographer's face and she gives nothing away. Of course she doesn't. Then it's over. Mish gives me a hug and we leave the hospital. 

Now I wait.