8 NOVEMBER 2023

‘…be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.’ Hebrews 13:5

I initially decided to wait until tomorrow to write the next blog post, given today’s exhausting adventures. I realised that this was not going to be an option, however, when I turned up at Isaac’s school football match this afternoon (yay! I made it Out Out!) and was approached by lovely Mum friend after lovely Mum friend all asking the same thing: ‘How did it go in London?’.  I am truly amazed and humbled by how many people care and are following my blog, and don’t want to keep you all on the edge of your seats waiting for the next episode, so here it is….

I’d love to report that we walked into Ms Fairy Godmother’s consulting room at the Marsden to be greeted by a vision of beauty in a pink tuile tutu, brandishing a magic wand that she immediately waved, conjuring up a team of mini robotic surgeons who got to work on Bertha after wafting a quick dose of anaesthesia in my direction.

I’d also love to report that Ms FG took me by the hand, looked me in the eye and said ‘Chemo? Pah, that’s so last century!  I will recruit you for my new clinical trial that will annihilate your cancer cells with just one simple tablet, popcorn-flavoured, taken 3 times a day.’

The reality was nearly as warm and fuzzy, but far from a fairytale. Ms Godmother was as lovely as she could be. She completely understood about my pain, and limited movement due to colossal abdomen Bertha. She said: I’d love nothing more than to cut it out for you…but I’m afraid it would do you more harm than good right now’. She went on to explain why in clear and gentle terms. She then assured us that the chemo plan we have in place is exactly what I need right now, and if there is a good response there may- just may- be the option of surgery down the line. (If so we will charter a helicopter or flying horse and wing it to her office within minutes..)

We all felt that it was more than worth the trip to the Big Smoke to benefit from such a compassionate, knowledgeable approach and to be reaasured that the Docs in the Sticks know exactly what they are doing.  

Here’s a whirlwind tour of the rest of the day: downgrading from Chelsea to Stevenage (yup, the Lister again) to see Count Oncologist, which turned out to be a quick formality- just as well as I forgot to take my coat off to reveal The Dress…. Then phone calls. So. Many. Phone. Calls. The GP surgery. The local hospice (would I like to come for a visit to see what they have to offer? A wealth of support is on the cards plus classes in all sorts of things. I assume not ultra-marathon training…). The palliative care team who are determined to get me pain free (good luck with that!). The GP surgery again. Doctor Frankenstein from Mount Vernon hospital in Rickmansworth who is to be slicing my upper chest open to insert a chemo port tomorrow. The GP surgery again. Yes, they really did phone three times, the final time to triumphantly inform me that they had solved the mystery of my missing application for free prescriptions, it having been located on a shelf- but not to worry, it might get signed and sent off soon.

And breathe…

‘Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him’ Psalm 37: 7