6) MRI Results and Breast centre, round 2So, just about around a week after discussing my treatment plan, I found myself back in the pastel purgatory awaiting my MRI results. Turns out, if it clashes with your monthly friend or if you are as young as myself with oestrogen fuelled C, it can bring back some very questionable results, leading to a lot of short term worry... until they retest you that is. I'm sure I had been exposed to more radiation than Superman within those two weeks. That being the case, before I was retested with another ultrasound and mammogram I was left in limbo deliberating as to why they were testing me further. I went from being a fairly switched on cancer patient to traumatised mess within 3 hours, as I became convinced I had some super ridiculous, fast spreading cancer and I was going to die. That morning escalated fairly quickly. An MRI machine, for your viewing pleasure. Upon my arrival and usual small talk with my regular consultant, Miss D, she was debating the possibility of me being pregnant... But wasn't telling me why she thought this (I know now it was the MRI results showing up weird!). I knew this couldn't possibly be the case, however, Miss D insisted I take a pregnancy test before proceeding with further tests as she briefly skimmed over the statement that I may need ANOTHER Biopsy (no way). And thus, to add to my usual humiliation of clutching onto my awkward 'fasten from the front' gown (which I could never do) and risk popping a boob out, I now had to wee onto a stick in the same toilet I vomited in after diagnosis (I thought it was a nice touch), and stand awkwardly next to the friendly, grey haired nurse, making small talk about the bloody weather as she waited to witness my already certain results. I was not pregnant. After two hours of further tests, speculation and apprehension I was finally released back to Julie's friendly face, who then explained the whole messed up situation to me. Admittedly, this came as little relief to me after bleeding all over the mammogram machine, from the metal clip incision into my primary tumour. By the time I was liberated back to normality I was a quivering mess who couldn't so much as look at another doctor for about a week, but everything turned out OK in the end and now I have a metal chip in me! Superman to Ironman in 3 hours is not bad for a mornings work. |
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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