...And Friends. 'The Story 3'.I awoke at around 5am, still exhausted, in a strange private room. The walls were a usual magnolia but the blackness of the early sky rendered them unrecognizable. The gloom through the small window gave the room a bleak and haunting feel. Lying there...staring at the dark wall, I recalled Nick had only left 2 hours ago, but it felt like a lifetime. I turned to the window and watched slowly as the slither of grey light started to break into the sky and slowly bleed into the room, until the fragile moment became interrupted by a nurse. The rest of the morning passed in a blur as I was pumped with morphine for the impending hospital transfer. At around 9am Nick was back by my side and the paramedics arrived to transfer me to Singleton SAU – I was hugely apprehensive given my past history of care here, but was reassured all had been taken care of. Fast forward 4 hours later and I was still waiting in the January air, stuck inside a cold ambulance and unallowed pain relief via I.V drip. It transpired SAU were in-fact, not expecting me and I was forced to wait on an excruciatingly hard surface with what felt like each section of my spine slowly popping away. The paramedics twitched impatiently trying to maintain their easy going demeanor, although conscious they were late for their next job. Topping it off... both hospitals were blaming the other for the oversight. Eventually, I was wheeled into the SAU hallway so the paramedics could be on their way. I spent the time with my head under the blankets, feeling somewhat embarrassed when passers-by looked at me. Needless to say, stuck on my back I was not looking my best. Eventually I was wheeled onto the SAU ward, and Nick wandered off for lunch. My stomach sank as I realised, I should begin to contact some of my close circle and share the rubbish news. Telling people you care about is easily one of the worst parts of being diagnosed. I was seen by two doctors, who both repeated information from the night before. Then I was whisked off for radiotherapy pain relief on my pelvis. I returned to a new ward (lovely ward twelve) and was given a spacious, white, private room with an incredible view of the bay. Greeted by a mixture of close friends who dropped everything to come and see me, I felt overwhelmed at the support. Unfortunately, I cannot recall hardly anything after this evening until I was discharged a week later. Long story short here... I may have bent the truth slightly regarding my pain levels, resulting in a huge struggle being back home. My medication was not right and I just could not escape the pain. It was torture. Four days after being home, I got up to make coffee with Nick and suddenly felt dizzy and flushed... and before I could tell him I was ‘going down’, I blacked out for a few seconds... I came through almost immediately after hitting my back on the ground. I have never experienced pain like it... I could not stop screaming over the severity of agony. I felt like my back was broken and could not move into any position to reduce the pain. I felt freezing and everything went blurry. I have never been so frightened in my life and honestly felt like I was losing a grip on my life. My hands and feet turned into cold marble. My abdomen was numb and my mind could not process the speed at which my body seemed to be shutting down. I needed to be sick, but couldn’t lift my head off the floor. The paramedics arrived about an hour after collapsing. After more morphine I realised Mel and Rhia had also been helping Nick and me through the situation. I was lifted up and carried onto the ambulance back to Morristion A&E, spending the majority of the day ‘out of it’ once again. I had another scan... which confirmed I had a tumour on my skull, behind my eye, explaining the numbness on my left cheek. The doctors here were appalling... each came in to carry their own assessments without referring to my notes, asking me insanely stupid questions... some were prodding my spine. One junior doctor even told Nick I had weeks to live outside of my room... a piece of information this underqualified doctor should have delivered to me instead of leaving Nick with this burden. Soon enough, once again... I was transferred back to Singleton SAU... . Luckily Mel, Rhia, Nick and my mum were on the case and rescued me from any further intrusive assessments. And before I knew it... it was midnight again and I was on ward 12 being pumped with further pain relief after being denied it for the last few hours. A lovely blonde nurse held my hand while I cried quietly on the ward. She gave me some anti-anxiety medication which allowed me to rest for an hour or so. In the next few weeks, everything was a bit of a blur... friends came and went and there were quite a few developments... from suffering a crippling fever to being told I have the hope to live for a few years and meeting my oncologist and key nurse. The day of release saw me blind sighted to an unexpected biopsy on my ribs. Imagine being so out of it on pain relief, I was not sure what I was agreeing to. Anyway, it resulted in a doctor telling me what to sign and agreeing to have extra punctures in my ribs for research. When I left with Nick, I remember having a little cry, feeling like I didn’t matter. After just a month short of my first collapse, I made it home to a better equipped house and a better mental state. Albeit clutching the raw pain form my new rib trauma and counting down the next two weeks until my meeting with the consultant.
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A ' no holds' page about my life with incurable advanced Breast Cancer, in the hope it will give a realistic, detailed account to other young women going through the unfortunate illness.
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September 2023
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