In April, I was feeling smug. Lesson learned: never feel smug unless you want to be kicked in the behind. I finally won my argument with the hospital and got enough Promixin to last until Christmas. I was so annoying and so determined that they gave in just to get rid of me. Of course, as I was going to put all this in writing, I discovered that the company that makes the INeb-Phillips-is now discontinuing the INeb as from Christmas. All that hard work for nothing? Well, not exactly. I'll be using the INeb that I've already got until it finally stops working.
There I was, in April, ready to write and tell you that if you make yourself a big enough pain in the backside-and you just happen to be right-you will win (if you don't give up),
So just as I was ready to play catch up, I was poking around under my arm-for no apparent reason, since I no longer do breast exams (no point, when there's nothing there to examine), and I found it: a lump. It wasn't just any lump, it was the size of a marble.
That was on Friday. I rang the GP's surgery and requested an emergency appointment. I was told that someone could see me in two weeks. I said-that's no good. I found a lump. Where is it? The idiot receptionist (trained to be useless?) asked me. I wanted to be a smart ass and say it's by my left knee-but I thought better of it, and said that it's a breast lump, and I think that the cancer has returned. She told me to hang on, and then said to come in at 4pm that afternoon. Even the word "cancer" strikes fear into the nastiest of people.
This began nearly seven months of absolute hell. The GP felt the lump, said that there is a second one, and has referred me back to the Royal Free Hospital's breast cancer clinic. It only took five weeks to be seen by a consultant-and it was the same consultant who performed the mastectomy eleven years ago.
I'll skip the tragic mismanagement and negligence for next time. It will be a story that you'll struggle to believe-even though it's absolutely true. But I was finally sent for a biopsy-which took three weeks to come back, because the lab lost one sample. Seriously-I said that it was too inane to possibly be made up. Then I was sent for scans: PET scan, bone scan, CT scans, ultrasounds, more scans. I said that it won't be cancer that kills me; I'll die of radiation poisoning.
The consultant finally decided-at the beginning of July-to operate, to use a wire and secure both (now large) lymph node (malignant) tumors. On July 26th I reported to the hospital-more drama, again I'll save this one for next time. But an hour before the surgery was due to start, the surgeon came to me and said that he cancelled the surgery. He said that the PET scan-taken in May-showed several tumors, and he wanted to wait to decide how to proceed. So I was sent home. He told me to come in on Monday to see the doctor; I asked if he was going to see me, and he said that no, he was now officially on holiday. Did I mention just how inept these people are?
On the Monday I was told that I needed to start an aromatase inhibitor-tablets which stop the production of the enzyme that provides estrogen. I would see the surgeon in three weeks. Seriously. Three weeks??? I said that I've got cancer in ly lymph nodes, and discovered it in April, it was now the end of July, did they think that lymph nodes just sit around and play poker? Yes-with my life.
I'm going to end this chapter for the moment. I went to the complaints department at the hospital executive offices (you knew I would do that!) and miraculously my cancer surgery was booked in for two weeks ago. So I'm finding it a little tough to be able to lift my arm-but I'm doing the exercises I was ordered to do (religiously) and I'm not in nearly as much pain as I was before.
When do I get the results of the histology tests? Allegedly on Tuesday afternoon. I say "allegedly" because I can't trust the breast cancer people to bend over and tie their own shoelaces, let alone get some diagnosis and treatment right.
So now you're all up to date-and the rest of the revolting story I'll save for next time. I will, however, caution anyone who is sent to the Royal Free Hospital, breast cancer clinic, to refuse to go there and demand a referral to another hospital.If I'd had any idea at the beginning of April that my life was at risk and that I was going to go through nearly seven months of torture, I would have done a runner.
See you soon. This time I hope that I will have better news. And what I can say is never let anyone else decide your future without your full consent.Cancer is scary. Having some incompetent imbeciles making a total mess of your case-and your life- no wonder so many people die of cancer, They're sent to the Royal Free.
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