Musings from the MRI

Mrs. Crimp, do you want to come through? Change into this gown and take a seat on the blue chair.

*Hurriedly changes in thread bare gown just covering bum*

Right, Mrs. Crimp

Oh you can call me Fran, Mrs. Crimp is my Mother in Law.
*stares blankly*

Ok, Fran, I’m gonna put a canula in so we can do a contrast scan or if you faint we can bring you round quickly, ha-ha.

*turns a shade of green*

Follow me….

*led into a room which basically houses a giant washing machine but with a bed and pillow instead of a door*

Would you like the headphones? We can play the radio if you like?

Ooh yea, please, do you have Absolute?

Yea, I think we can sort that. Just lie back and relax, here’s your panic button.

*Relax and panic. Nice*

Ok we’re going to start, here’s the music.

*pushed in until body is covered but face is shown*

*LeAnn Rimes starts playing*

Inner monologue- I didn’t know they played LeAnn Rimes on Absolute. Huh.

Ok, sorry were gonna have to start again, do you have any piercings on your abdomen.

Nope.

No surgery or shrapnel?

Er…no.

You sure?

Am I sure I’ve not had any surgery or shrapnel? Yea, pretty sure.

Ok, let’s try this again. Radio going on.

*Celine fucking Dion is playing*

Inner monologue – OK, if this is Absolute, then this is shit. And I want my iPod.

Ok, sorry, one last time are you sure there aren’t piercings or maybe diamonte on your knickers?

*touches knickers*

No, I’ve got my normal knickers on.

Ok, were gonna have to change the pad your laying on as it’s not picking up your left side.

Eh? What’s that mean? That means cancer doesn’t it. Oh Jesus, its so big you can’t see it properly. Oh God.

Erm, no, no, no, no its the machine, it has a fault sometimes, it’s fine. Honestly.

*heart rate is probably 10000/80*

Ok, lets try this again. Radio going on.

*Queen’s I want to break free, starts playing*

Inner Monologue – Frigging Irony.

And, Scene.

Tooth fairy in reverse

I spent £48 to get that flipping tooth out today and thus try and get rid of the agonising pain. Fingers crossed it does.

Novocain is now my favouritist pain killer in the whole wide world.

Can you get it in Boots?

Anyway more importantly, I forgot to get my tooth to put under my pillow to get my £48 back.
Do tooth fairies take artist impressions of teeth?

Ahh numbness.

Toddler

Dear James,

In a week’s time, you be 18 months old. That is like, WELL old in baby terms. In fact you’re actually a toddler now and boy are you fitting into those tantrums well.

You have definitely inherited the firey Italian gene from me and the stubbornness of your Dad Dad.

You are an amazing little boy. You DO NOT STOP TALKING. But it’s music to my ears.
Most of what you are saying makes sense. You are very determined in what you want.
You are polite with your ‘peas’ and ‘fankoo’. You know your ‘weely’, and your ‘noose’ and ‘ey’ and ‘EARS’, which always makes me laugh because you shout that word.

You will give us a running commentary in your buggy of the form of transport we encounter. ‘A car, a van, a red car, ooo a BUS!’
And it never fails to make me giggle when your say ‘vancar’ very quickly.
You’ll understand when you’re older.

You know a ‘Bik’ is what Uncle Tattoo drives and a ‘Biceecle’ is the other one.

You say lots of words and you understand them all. You know that I am Mum Mum and that Daddy ‘Go work bus’ and is sometimes Mr. Tumble, or ‘Misser Mumel’ as you call him. He isn’t your Daddy, but I can see the resemblance.

You still love ‘Din Dins’ and your ‘Dooce (juice)’ and Minnie dog is still your best buddy in the whole wide world.

James, the affection you show people is so wonderful, please never forget the power of a kiss or a hug. They have been Mummy’s saviour of late.

You kiss so passionately with both hands on face and a force so strong you shake your head.
You shake hands, fist bump and high five. You dance like a little robot which can body pop. It’s not listed in the conventional milestones but I am very proud you can do that. Its awesome.

The only major change is that you no longer have breast milk. Lots of decisions impacted this and I delayed a lot of things, because I wanted to go at your pace. If I didn’t think you were ready to move on, I’d still be feeding you now. But, you independent little boy, you knew it was time to move on.

*weeps*

All in all you are a brilliant little boy, who, without even realising it, is looking more after his Mummy right now, than vice versa.

One day I’ll explain that better.

In the meantime, continue to be a child for as long as you can. Look at the world through those big brown eyes and embrace your life.

I love you with everything in me.

Keep growing strong,
Mama
XOX

Needy.

Ok, I’m bored now.

I need to know what’s going on in my body.

I need to know what’s stressing me out so much, that I’ve lost 16 pounds in 5 weeks. (Dieters, don’t hate me, I’d rather be a fat roly poly without a care in the world than lose weight like this). I’m still fat FYI.

I need to know if that Fuckwit has Cancer written all the way through it, like a stick of rock or its just an fat lump.

I need to know if we can have another child one day.

I need to know because when people ask if I know anymore, I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING.

I need my family to not have to go through this. This hurts me more than any stupid biopsy did.

I need one hour where I don’t think the absolute worst.

I just need to be me.

Cauliflower

I just want to say a big massive thank you for all the love, texts, comments, tweets and hugs (both real and virtual). I was literally blown away. So, thank you.

I received my follow up letter from my consultant just detailing what was said in appointment and what they did and the next step.

All nice and informative, good to have a record of this etc etc.
Except, I’m really annoyed at how they described my ‘growth’

My growth, mass, creature from the deep, whatever, has been described as ‘cauliflower like’ (as in shape not size. Oh god, could you imagine if it was that big. How would I ever sit down?)

Cauliflower?

It as bad as when they compare a baby’s size to a frigging pineapple. Good sizing comparison but it doesn’t make you want to birth a prickly thing through your vagina.

Damn you fuckwit, I really like cauliflower too.

A little piece of me.

53mm of me to be precise or 5.3 cm for you metric folk.

This little ‘mass’ has been controlling my waking thoughts and (when I get to sleep) my dreaming thoughts too.

10 days ago I went for a scan which should have been a run of the mill ‘Oh yea, your PCOS is acting up’ scan.

However, it wasn’t.

They have discovered a ‘mass’ in my cervix which could be causing my hormonal issues or could be co-incidental.

But, a mass it is. And a mass in my cervix is something that is, quite frankly, is not fucking welcome.

These last 10 days have been hell.
I went away to Birmingham with 3 people knowing the situation and forgot about it for a few hours, but I had lingering grim thoughts present.

I chose not to share on my support network as I didn’t want to re-hash what I didn’t know. But I’m sharing now as I just need reality to kick me up the arse.

I’ve gone from positive outbursts of it being a stupid fibroid which basically is just a nuisance, to arranging my funeral music, because I want to make sure the right version of ‘Be My Baby’ is played.

It’s the Lightning Seeds version if you’re interested.

I’ve had tremendous gallows humour and I’ve done the very ugly crying thing when I’ve been cuddling James at night.

My James.
As much as I’ve tried to keep away my feelings from him, children are not stupid. He knows his Mum Mum is not right. What if this mass affects my fertility? What if I can’t give him a brother or Sister?

Whatever this mass is (I am referring to it as a fuckwit) we will find out what it is in 2 weeks.
Biopsy was done today by an amazing consultant and MRI is next week.

I will always be an advocate for the NHS and if these 10 days are anything to go by, and it is worst case scenario, then the fuckwit won’t know what’s hit it.

I am laying in bed, trying not to shake and trying to be calm.

But I’m not, I’m terrified.

Even if this is something benign etc, it has changed me. Its made me realise that even on my weak moments, I am bloody strong. I have realised how much I love the people I love and how on earth would I get by without them.

And I’ve learnt it’s ok to be scared.

I’m not looking for sympathy, I’m not looking for you to be nice, I just don’t want to hide anymore.

The fuckwit will not win.