Spontaneity

First of all I would like to say thank you for all the good luck messages before my oncology review and of course my little pressies. I was really expecting bad news this time. I was panicking right up to the review. My phantom symptoms turned into actual real life withdrawal symptoms from the steroids. When you are wanting to throw up randomly throughout the day... It causes a bit of panick. It's hard for me to determine what symptoms are caused by Brian pushing buttons in there and my body missing those horrible drugs. I called one of my best friends in floods of tears a few days before the review as I was feeling utterly awful. (I have to say 'one of my best friends' else they fight over who I'm actually referring to as best friend, I may just have to start name dropping). Anyway, she (hint for you) was amazing and sat and said "it's a bit of a coinkydink (yes she used this work) that your symptoms are coming up just before your review isn't it" but I've already told you this. Anyway... Point being, this calmed me down until my review. I usually have time to stress and panic sat outside my oncologists door. This time we were called in early and I didn't get a chance to think about it at all. My clinical nurse popped her head round the door, she smiled which was a relief. My oncologist then jumped up and did his awkward handshake. I think greetings between oncologists and patients should be a bit more exciting. I'm going in for the high five next time. Especially as it was GOOD NEWS. "Good news for a change" ha! That was my blog title after I got engaged and it turned out to be the opposite! This definitely is good news this time! Especially after my oncologist revealed that he would now be happy to re-radiate me should anything happen. This gives Brian a second chance by putting him on the naughty step again. Let's hope he remains I a good mood for a long time and it's not needed!

As far as further treatment goes, there simply isn't any. My only option at the moment is to travel for cologne for immunotherapy. A new country, a lot of money, no guaranteed results and why temper with something that isn't currently causing an issue. We have agreed to just remain under observation for now. It's still something I think about regularly. My friends have all stated the exact lengths they will go to for fundraising. I have recently discovered that no one quite loves me enough to swim the channel. I love my friends...

I took a picture of Brian this time. A few close friends have seen him. A lovely waitress at Pizza Hut has also glimpsed at him whilst being proudly displayed on my phone screen at the table. I bet she thought it was an odd looking ultra sound as I said "so there is Brian". She was probably thinking 'who the hell would name their child Brian these days' ah well, better than her knowing who Brian really is. I'm just glad she didn't inquire!

I had a really rough psychology session this week. I'm surprised I got to the room without picking up a rare disease! I went to the cancer center desk as usual but the receptionist laughed a little as he said "ah turn right out of there and someone will meet you". I found such a dodgy looking lift. I got in it with a nurse. She immediately said "oh god this is a bit dodgy isn't it" to which I wittily replied "at least we are already in a hospital" I was quite proud of that one. The lift seemed much more appealing after the doors opened. I must have ventured into the part of the hospital where they are doing frankinstine experiments with all the spare body parts! A receptionist met me to let me in (yes you needed a key to get in or out.... Not dodgy at all!) she got me a chairs hole I waited in the dodgy corridor. She kindly placed it away from the toilets. I was incredibly relieved to see my psychologist silently wave me in. I walked into a room, with a hospital bed in the corner and two chairs. A very cruel trick. She actually said it was interesting to see my reaction to a more medical environment. It reminded me of my moms hospital room before she died. We ended up talking about the similarities between me and my mom. This seemed most relevant as I have recently been invited to look at being genetically tested. I absolutely crumbled for the entire session. Before leaving, I asked how bad I looked to which she just replied "yyeeeaaahh" which was not reassuring. I finally escaped the dodgy building via the dodgy lift and ran into the cancer centre toilets to discover my bright red eyes framed by black mascara patches. I sorted myself out and put my headphones in full blast to stop me from crying again, and made a break for it. The song chocolate was first to come up which reminded me of a certain someone and such simple but comforting memories of driving around in the car. I immediately felt a lot better and headed for the corridor of doom.

Now, the corridor of doom is my name for the link bridge between the two hospitals. I call it this as it appears to go on forever. At certain points along the wall there are oxygen stations, presumably to give you a little boost if it is needed on your treck to the other side. The corridor is always buzzing with doctors all scrubbed up scurrying off to surgery. You will often see some poor sod all wired up and being wheeled bed bound between the chaos. There is usually a few porters with empty wheel chairs walking up and down. I'll ask for a lift one day, I presume they are available just Incase your legs give way on your journey.

Anyway, after my all clear... I'm debating a spontaneous trip to Australia in the next month or so. If you can give me any suggestions of what to do or where to stay, please message or leave a comment. I have actually managed to find travel insurance too. I've been quoted £78 for up to 18 days which is incredible. All my fellow DeePigs should have a look at this one. It's a specialist cancer insurance company called 'Insure With' I hope it's useful for you.

Much love x