There is a cut off time of 7:30am for food and beverages this morning. I’m so nervous that I can’t stomach any food but I do manage coffee. We head out to the hospital yet again. On the way Cl from Dr Kt’s office calls. She can squeeze me in after the long weekend on Tuesday at 7:30am. No it’s not too early, I say, I’ll take it. 

We arrive at Oncology and are seen by Dr Sk again. This appointment is to cover off consent for chemo and organise prescriptions. I tell Dr Sk that I have the PET-CT scheduled this afternoon. She says that there will be about a 3 week wait to get an appointment with her to discuss the results. I tell her that I am going mad with the not knowing. She gives me a long, considered look before agreeing to call me and give me the results over the phone. I think she was assessing me to see how I would potentially react to a bad outcome. I don’t know. The waiting game is absolute torture. No news is good news definitely does not apply in this situation.

I tell Dr Sk that Big Betty has grown some more and that I can now feel her offspring. She checks and confirms – Betty is now 12cm across and there are other fairly pronounced lumps nearby, both in my left breast and my armpit. We agree that it is necessary that chemo start asap. I express my concern that the disease is progressing much faster than the treatment plan which she does acknowledge. She does not offer a solution – they are going as fast as they can.

We go home again and I prepare for the next appointment. I visit Mum upstairs who is obviously struggling. She really wants to help but doesn’t know how. I don’t know what she can really do other than just be here for me. H arrives and we head off to Mercy Radiology for the CT scan.

There’s not much difference between this scan and any other CT scan other than the radioactive substance injected into my veins. I must remain still and calm for an hour while the fluid courses throughout my body. This is not a problem as I am so comfortable stretched out on the recliner with my feet up that I very nearly fall asleep. I wish I’d brought headphones to listen to music. The scan itself is non-eventful but the radiographer wishes me luck when she finishes and I get that sinking feeling again.

H brings me home and we have a beer on the patio. It’s a bit early for a drink but I don’t care. We chat about music, one of H’s loves. After he leaves I sit and stare into our beautiful forest. The enormity of the scan and its potential to define my future on this planet hits me again and I find myself crying again. 

I have no control over anything.

Haiku 4:

Do I want to know?
The answer terrifies me
It will change my life