Three tumours BLASTED but one collapsed lung – not a bad trade off, but I have to do it all again in 12 days
The Sun Online's columnist wants to hear from you... the things cancer made you say, the good, the bad and the ugly
THERE'S nothing like coming down to Earth with a bump.
Straight off the plane from my sunny holiday and straight into hospital to be jabbed with needles, put to sleep and sliced open!
That was my Monday, and it started with a barrage of tests (oh the life of a stage 4 cancer patient):
- Weight - yep, carrying a bit extra from my hols
- Height - still a bit short
- Blood - all good from the red wine I was knocking back in the sunshine
- Lungs - urm, yep still screwed
All the boxes ticked and doctors said I all OK for my ablation op later that day.
'Imagine a hot poker used to zap things being inserted into your lungs'
Ablation is an odd concept. Essentially, and I know my lovely surgeon will cringe, needles are placed into my lungs and high radio frequency waves are sent to "burn" out the tumours.
Imagine a smoking hot iron poker that zaps things!
Thankfully it all takes place while I'm completely knocked out.
I walked down to my operation, as I have done every time, excited to be getting the f*ckers out, but nervous as hell.
Will I wake up? Will it all go wrong?
'I've been here before - and it didn't end well'
Last July when I had high hopes, that my surgeon would be blasting all tumours out of my lungs.
But I woke up with a collapsed lung, and the disappointment of knowing, despite their best efforts, it didn't quite go to plan.
Getting back on your feet after a disappointing operation is tough.
You feel like it's all pointless and wonder if you will EVER get a treatment break?
'This time around I set my hopes a little lower'
So this time around, I placed my bar of expectation just a little bit lower.
I needed to manage my expectations in case the pesky tumours weren't all blasted into oblivion.
I knew going for three of four tumours was ambitious, and the likelihood of complications was higher.
But, I agreed to it. I just wanted them out, so thought "let's do this sh*t".
With each hole burned into my lungs, the risk of my lung collapsing - known as a pneumothorax.
It's where air gets into the space between the lung and the chest wall, and if it happens it hurts like hell.
It hurts to breathe, you end up with a chest drain that gets rid of the gunk, while making it hard to move - and you cry a river when it's taken out.
'They got 3 tumours - but my lung collapsed'
So you can imagine my delight when I woke up with yet another collapsed lung and chest drain!
Despite being warned to expect it, immediately my heart sank and then my chest hurt.
As the magic green button - morphine - started to kick in and I began to come round, the news that they had actually blasted three of my four tumours began to sink in.
And it felt like a pretty good trade off for my collapsed lung.
'Next step, recovery'
But, that all done, now it's time for the small task of recovery.
Hospitals are brilliant places, but they scare me.
Each beep leaves me on the brink of a panic attack, sending my blood pressure and heart rate sky high - worrying the incredible doctors and nurses at The Royal Marsden.
I don't like being told what I can and can't do, and I don't like waiting to find out my fate.
In a hospital setting you become a robot, one that needs to function well enough before you are allowed home.
But my unique body doesn't like to work according to plan, and often goes off plan.
Some blood loss post-op and a lung that didn’t want to inflate meant I was in longer than expected and had to beg to be allowed home.
At that point my mind went into a bad place, I knew I'd had enough.
Let’s #walkallovercancer
IT'S March, and it's time to show your support for Cancer Research UK.
Join the masses to and help raise vital money to help beat this beast of a disease.
Cancer Research UK have once again launched its annual drive to encourage us to walk 10,000 steps each day.
This equates to around five miles per day for the average person.
Walking comes with a whole host of proven health benefits from reducing stress, helping us maintain a good weight to giving us a better nights sleep.
It doesn’t matter if you are just walking circles around your house due to the bitter cold, or taking the dog for a walk, it all counts.
Don your shoes and sign up to help Cancer Research walk all over cancer sooner!
At one point I threatened to discharge myself (please don't try this at home), and was met with glaring stares and left with the impression they all thought I was nuts.
It was only after Googling it, and realising I could die from my collapsed lung, that I quickly got back in my box.
I'm lucky to have wonderful family and friends, who lifted my spirits.
My sister stayed the night, and my mum helped me dance through my pain.
And some Instagram friends surprised me, gatecrashing the ward to put a big smile on my face.
MORE THINGS CANCER MADE ME SAY
'No rest for the wicked, 12 days and I have to do it ALL again'
Finally, I was allowed the flee the hospital nest, with strict instructions to return the next day.
I fell into my own bed, but soon realised food wasn't going to be brought to me.
So I'm back at the Parents Hotel this weekend, in the hope of getting back on my feet.
And just when I hope to start feeling better, I'm going to have to do this ALL over again in 12 days time.
No rest for the wicked, well and truly, f*ck you cancer!
Come join the I’d love to hear from you about #thethingscancermademesay.
Tell me your journey, show off your scars, share what keeps you smiling, or how you are giving two fat fingers to cancer (or anything else for that matter!)
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