April 20th 2011

I visited the GP alone. She confirmed that I had a large cyst, currently about 12.5 cm by 6.5cm and of course it would need to be removed. I asked why everything had moved so quickly since yesterday and she matter of factly told me that if they thought there was a suspicion of cancer than it was the normal procedure to follow up as soon as possible. She pulled up a form on her computer screen as she spoke. She told me she was referring me to the Alexander Hospital in Redditch to see a gynecology consultant. At the top of her page it said something like referral suspicion of cancer?  Has the patient been informed they may have cancer? and she nonchalantly ticked the “yes” box. I was shaking inside but tried to carry on asking sensible questions, trying not to cry. She told me my appointment would be within two weeks and I left the room in shock.

It’s funny the things you do in difficult times – I went to the estate agents and returned the paperwork I had filled in the day before to give them the permission to sell our house. Only after that did I phone Jon, my husband. We talked and said that we would deal with the information as we were given it – at the moment I have an ovarian cyst, if or when it is confirmed that I have cancer then we will deal with it then. No point in getting worked up about what might or might not happen. This sentiment was echoed by my great friend Nicky, a midwife a, who also has family experience of cancers and is one of the most level headed and practical people I know.

Of course it didn’t stop me from worrying and from doing what I now know to be something extremely detrimental to my mental health  – I came home and “googled”it. Big mistake – I scared my self stupid. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. I have since banned myself from looking things up when I am in a state  or when it is purely guess work on my side.  I can’t promise that I always do as I have instructed myself to do though. I can’t stop Jon either.

Trust all this to happen over Easter and all those Bank Holidays and a Royal Wedding – how inconsiderate. It was the longest three weeks of my life waiting to see the consultant.


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