I’d like to say Monday 18th January started like any other day…but it didn’t. It followed another weekend of pain, bloating and throwing up…and sadly not because of overdoing it in the pub! I’d been in the hospital the week before having 4.5ltrs of fluid drained from my abdomen and although that had briefly relived the pain I still felt crap!
That morning I was having an MRI to try and find out what was making me so unwell. Drs had told me that they expected to find some infection or scar tissue from surgery I’d had last summer but, as I’d told them and others, my gut instinct was screaming that it was something more….and more specifically that it was ovarian cancer…however my concerns were silenced for months despite my CA125 blood levels rising and ultrasounds showing masses on both my ovaries that were increasing in size.
I left the ward set on going home for a rest but that’s when things started to change…10 minutes after leaving the ward I received a call from my consultant. I’ll always remember I was sitting in a supermarket car park about to buy some GF bread. Random I know but it will stick with me forever. He didn’t say much but I knew then what was coming. He told me to meet him on the ward at 3pm and to bring my husband because they had some test results. I’d been speaking to this consultant nearly every day for two weeks and he always told me everything over the phone –I knew things were no longer looking good and that my instincts had been correct.
I cried all the way home.
Two hours later my husband and I were on the ward where we were shown to a private room to wait for my consultant. When he arrived he explained that they had found cancer cells in the fluid that they had drained from my abdomen. Cancer. Such a small word. Such a huge impact. I knew then that nothing would ever be the same again.
I looked to my husband, his face just a picture of stunned disbelief. We’d just celebrated our two year wedding anniversary a couple of weeks ago, how could this be happening?
The consultant started to explain the next steps but I’m not sure I heard any of it. How would I tell my parents, my sisters, my friends, my work – I was due to start my dream job in a matter of days? So many questions running through my head.
The consultant left us and a nurse brought us cups of tea.
I don’t know how long we sat there but I know that I wanted out as soon as possible. I had to tell people, I wanted it out, I wanted to scream it from the roof tops. Like that was going to make it any less real?! any less painful?!?
The hardest part of having cancer isn’t the diagnosis, it’s having to tell the people you love. Having to hear them muffle tears as they try to stay strong for you. Having to break so many hearts. That’s where the pain comes from.
My family and friends rallied round as always that night and I felt an overwhelming sense of support and love. I spent the evening phoning and texting close friends and sitting with my sisters before coming home and lying on the sofa crying with my husband – even I can’t be strong all the time…
My parents were in Spain and I had to tell them over the phone. That was the hardest call…knowing they were so far away and not being able to tell them face to face. How do you tell two loving parents that their youngest has cancer?…
Since her diagnosis, Fi has been raising awareness of ovarian cancer on her blog.