It's been almost a year now since my world shifted. April 30, 2013, as I
scan through the quaint shops and specialty food stores along Fulham
Road in London, I make a mental note of which ones I can browse after my X- ray at the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital. I have been feeling
breathless since February and I have been coughing involuntarily for
more than a month, my GP sent me in for the X-ray - just to look. I check
in to the radiology department, change into a gown and wait. I look
at the time, it's been two hours, really, how long does it take? I have been reading but still, 2 hours! It's my
first time ever at a UK hospital facility so I have no idea what
waiting times are like. It's 6 pm and I say to myself, the shops won't
be open and this waiting is getting ridiculous. Finally someone
approaches me. They can't find my doctor's requisition form, apparently reception
forgot to forward it and that's why I was not called. By this time, I'm
tired, hungry, and really frustrated but not surprised at the
mediocrity of the reception staff, I do get a lot of bad service in London. After
the X-ray, the radiologist gave me a knowing look and then asked me to
wait. he then brings me to A&E. After getting admitted, they put me
in an isolation room, fitted me with a cannula, my ops recorded, and
blood test taken. This is now 8pm, I call my husband to let them know
what's happening. I could have asked for dinner as I realise I haven't
eaten in hours, but I was too concerned about what's unfolding I have lost my
appetite. After waiting for nearly three hours, a doctor finally comes
to see me. He mentions there are abnormalities on my lungs and that they
have to observe me further. He asked if I travelled to Asia recently as
they think it could be Tuberculosis. I tell them I've only been to Amsterdam and
Paris in the past year. After more ops and blood samples, I'm told to
wait for a room to be available, I'm going to get confined. I look in my
bag and I see one book, which I take out to read, my wallet, tissues,
and my mobile phone which is running out of juice! So there I was
reading The Biology of Belief by Bruce Lipton, hungry but refusing to
eat, bored and sick of the forced confinement in an isolation room,
wondering what the heck is wrong with me. It was about 1 am when someone
came in to say they finally have a room for me. They wheeled me on the
bed, the halls were dark broken only by the flashing
fluorescent lights on the ceiling. We pass through wards, and as
we stopped near one that was right outside my new isolation room, I can
hear moaning, and little cries of pain. It was frightening, sad, and
eerie. I ask the nurse for toiletries and to charge my phone. I thought I
could never sleep but I was simply exhausted.
May 1st, and I am awoken by
breakfast. White toast with butter and jam, and a cup of Kellog's corn
flakes and milk. I look at the Costa Coffee Kiosk through my window and
asked the nurse If I can grab a cup of coffee and some proper breakfast.
She reminds me that I'm on isolation. A team of doctors, all lung
specialists and some students came in to do more tests and talked to me
about my symptoms. It was the longest day ever!
The next day saw more tests and interviews. By the
afternoon of May 3rd, they took the isolation sign off and staff were
coming into my room without their masks, clear clue that they have ruled
out Tuberculosis or anything contagious. So what's wrong with me? Around 6pm, and this
time only one doctor and a nurse came in, to ask if I have family and if I
want them there when he tells me the results. I was like "oh no, I
don't like the sound of that", I call my husband, the house is only 10
minutes away, fortunately. The kids came too but the doctor wanted to talk to me and my
husband only, so he gets the students to entertain the kids at the waiting room.
The doctor starts by saying all the results have come back and that
Tuberculosis is indeed ruled out and so is asthma, or diabetes, or
anything to do with the heart ( I told them my family history). He kept
on and on about the tests, so I just interrupted him with my blunt "is
it cancer", awkward silence…. "do I have cancer"? he nodded, and my tears just
started rolling fast.
They
now need to determine where the primary cancer is and obviously its
stage. I was given the option to go back home for one night, keep my
cannula on, and come back for more tests the next day. I was not ready to tell the kids so I recomposed myself before we called them back in. As I walk into
our home, it felt like my world shifted, big time! I was looking at
everything differently, everything felt odd. I was floating in a different universe and all of a sudden, the future
is uncertain.
I was up early the next day for my 11 am Bronchial Wash
at the hospital, they have to get a sample of the fluid in my lungs.
After the procedure I was told I need to be confined again for more
tests, and scans. I get a nice private room this time. They suspect the
primary could be thyroid or lung. I also get news that I have pulmonary
embolism. Embolism results from deep vein thrombosis, a blood clot in
the deep vein of the legs or pelvis
that breaks off and migrates to the lungs through the bloodstream. I
know where that vein is and when I got it, I thought they were just
varicose veins and I had planned on getting them operated on because it
hurts and it looks bad. I was lucky to have had it this long without exploding. I was a walking time bomb! I was put on blood
thinners immediately. I was sent home the next day equipped with
injection know how and boxes of Clexane.
