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The Ride

Fat Mum Slim /

Life is a rollercoaster, right? I want to tell you something that’s been happening over the past few months. I wrote last year about a little scare I had. You can read about it here, and here… but if you can’t be bothered reading about it, let me tell you about it in a nutshell: My GP noticed that my platelets were slightly elevated, so sent me off to a specialist. Specialist guy noted that my platelets were high, and my iron was low so I decided to monitor them  and give me regular iron infusions. He mentioned that he was worried that I could potentially have Bone Marrow Cancer during one appointment {which I rightfully so freaked the heck out} and then decided that I probably didn’t… and I was pleasantly happy and got on with life thinking I’d be just fine.

Fast forward to March 2017. Life was going really quite good. I had joined the gym. I felt strong. I saw Adele in concert. I had a great weekend with my sister and my cousin. Life was good. I went to my regular appointment to get an iron infusion with my specialist, and life was not so good. “Look, I’m a bit worried. The numbers aren’t great, and I think we need to do a Bone Marrow Biopsy.”

My specialist is one of those super brilliant brains who knows his stuff, but he also drives me a little bit bonkers because he moves so fast that I can’t even keep up {and I’m good at keeping up!}. One minute he’s all “hey, nice dress!” and the next he’s “blah blah bone marrow cancer” and then “see you next week!”. I walked out feeling shell-shocked, and having to process it all. I also like to go to my appointments alone, because Hubby gets emotional and I find it better to go solo, only having to worry about myself.

I booked in for the biopsy the next week, and then promptly took myself to the cafe for a takeaway ham and cheese croissant {hello ultimate comfort food}, and took myself to my car to unravel. Bone Marrow Cancer? Really? I drove out of the car park and opened my bag of lunch and realised they’d given me a toasted sandwich instead, and I thought it was an omen so I cried. Have you also noticed that whenever you’re sad all the songs on the radio have such heartbreaking lyrics? So I cried some more.

By the time I’d arrived home I’d sorted out my emotions, and walked inside to see Hubby concerned. Our calendars on our phones are synced, so as I added my appointment into my phone for the ‘bone marrow biopsy’ it pinged to Hubby and he started freaking out. I’m the person that keeps the wheels turning, and everything together, so I told him it was all fine and there was nothing to worry about. On the outside I was cool, calm and assuring… on the inside I was a bundle of knots, stress and worry.

I kept it cool for about 24 hours, and then I couldn’t any longer. A friend came over, and I was outside on the steps watching the kids ride their bikes and I lost it. I didn’t mean to, but there comes a time where it won’t stay in any longer. I can’t even remember what I told her, or how it all came out… but there was tears, and sobbing and irrational thoughts. She’s the sort of person who is compassionate to a point, but then tells you sternly to stop thinking all of the crazy, sad thoughts and to pull your head in, so I did {for a moment anyway}.

That week leading up to my biopsy was a blur. I cried silently while I patted the kids to sleep. I woke at 3am, and sobbed into my pillow so not to wake Hubby beside me. I thought so many dark thoughts. I cried because I love my kids so hard. I sobbed because I felt like Hubby had loved me enough for three lifetimes and that I felt so lucky. I got so caught up in thought after thought that I ended up deciding that I definitely wanted Hubby to marry again, but I didn’t want his new wife to make the kids call her mum. Oh, I cried a lifetime of tears in that week, but only when no one was watching; in the shower, in the car, at night, in the dark, while doing the laundry. I also learned that no matter how many times you tell yourself to stop being ridiculous, or to keep positive, sometimes it’s inevitable to have your mind wander to places you really don’t want it to go.

The day before the biopsy Cyclone Debbie had hit, and we were flooded in. I desperately wanted to get it over and done with, but wasn’t sure if we’d actually get to the hospital or if my doctor could make it either. It felt so selfish to be worrying about such things when people were going through such devastation, but selfishly I thought of myself, a lot.

All my well-oiled plans for the biopsy fell apart. School was cancelled and we no longer had childcare. I palmed Lacey off to a friend, and took Lulu with us to the hospital.

I was quickly taken to my room, and prepped for the biopsy. I was given the sedative, and the doctor started digging into my hip in an attempt to reach the bone and take a sample. Only the sedative didn’t work. I kept looking at the nurse, who kept looking at me waiting for me to fall asleep, while the doctor performed torture on my hip {with no numbing or anything}. “I’m awake!” I called out to him, “I can feel everything you’re doing!”

He replied in disbelief, “Really? Where can you feel it?”

“In my hip!”

He ordered the nurse to double my dose of sedation, and kept digging… until I exclaimed, “Ouch! I’m still awake!”

So they stopped. Turned out the sedation doesn’t work for me. I filled in a form, unaffected by the drugs at all and lay in bed with Lulu and Hubby waiting for the all clear to go home.

I was devastated. I wanted the procedure to go head, and for I to get results and answers. I wanted to know that I was fine, and that I could get on with life. I wanted to avoid that grey area, where there were just questions and doubt, and be in that place where I knew for sure what was going on.

I was given an appointment for two months after that date, and left in the grey area, not knowing. For the most part I got on with life, and the other part I had a humming of worry and sadness going on in the background. I kinda put life on hold, putting off trips/work/life and promises because I had no idea what lay ahead for me. It wasn’t fun. For someone who likes to have control, I felt like I had hardly any. Despite feeling the healthiest I’ve ever felt, with no physical symptoms at all, I was worried.

Last week was my appointment. I want to tell you that I wasn’t worried, but I was… but surprisingly not as worried as I thought I would be. I assumed that it would just be another appointment where we made more plans {perhaps to have the biopsy done under a general}. Hubby came with me, but I asked him to stay in the waiting room while I spoke to the doctor. During my failed biopsy I had some expensive bloods taken, and my results were in. They showed I didn’t have cancer, and while the results aren’t 100% accurate, when they’re teamed with the results that my platelets have returned to a beautiful, normal level… it rules out bone marrow cancer. I don’t have cancer.

It was the most enthusiastic I’ve seen my specialist {and he’s an energetic, excitable guy}. He was thrilled for me, and I was thrilled for me. I’ve been smiling ever since. I am so grateful to have received such good news, to be one of the lucky ones. This past 18 months has been a roller coaster ride of uncertainty, fear, tests, and worry… and I’m glad to be lucky enough to be jumping off the ride.