Niggling

So, your sitting there one day and you think to yourself ‘I feel a bit weird’ and then you think back to the last couple of days and you realise that you had a late night, maybe had one too many wines the night before, baby was FAR. TOO. ENERGETIC, and you think ‘Ahh it’s probably catching up with me’

The weeks whizz by and you feel a ‘bit weird’ again. This time you put it down to stress with trying to find a job and think nothing of it.

A couple of months go by and your body starts reacting. Again, you think nothing at first, but now things in your life are calming down, this ‘reaction’ starts praying on your mind.

You pick up the courage to visit your doctor, expecting to be waved off with a script of antibiotics.
Which is exactly what happens.

But in your head, something starts niggling. Niggle, niggle, niggle.

You KNOW your own body, but you start questioning what is your ‘normal’.

Niggle, niggle, niggle.

You go to the Doctors again because the antibiotics didn’t do shit. You know something is up.

This time bloods are taken, an ultrasound scheduled. Bloods are normal, a little low on iron but nothing major. An agonising 6 week wait for an ultrasound.

You lose 16 pounds. You’re still eating, maybe absentmindedly, but still trying to be healthy. You know something is up.

Niggle, niggle, niggle.

Your ‘reaction’ is getting worse. It makes you self conscious, you wonder if people know, like you know something is up.

It’s remarked that you’re losing weight, your running around after a toddler you say.

Niggle, niggle, niggle.

All of a sudden its the date of your scan. Legs are jittery, a nurse has to hold you still. She holds your hand too.

And before your eyes, in the same room you saw your little baby on the screen, is something else with a bloodline.

Niggle, niggle, fucking mass, niggle.

You are then rushed through on the ‘2 week wait’ list and important people are starting to fuss over you.

You KNOW something isn’t right.

Niggle, niggle, fucking fibroid, fucking cancer, niggle.

You are surrounded by doctors, specialists nurse, a fucking biopsy pot.

Niggle, niggle, niggle.

All of a sudden its as if someone has turned off the volume in the world and all your hear is Mr Hollingworth’s words.

Yes, it is cervical cancer.

Nig…no more niggling. This is what it is.

This post is important. I hope that if you are reading this, man or woman, old or young, if you have something niggling you, you act on it. Go see your Doctor. Not one thing is a petty complaint.

I should have acted sooner, but at least I didn’t put it off altogether.

If me having cancer is to make just one person take a look at themselves and think ‘Actually, that’s not quite right’ then I know this shit hasn’t been in vain.

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