272. Falling apart?

Friday morning, oncology clinic and all was well. My blood markers are slowly creeping up and Dr U noted that my eyelid looks more swollen. He was a bit concerned about the lump along the upper eye socket - he’d thought it was fluid build up but gradually it’s hardened and he said he should have been paying it more attention. So I have a referral to Ophthalmology again to see what’s what. I’ve been wanting that for a while, just out of curiosity. I don’t know what’s safe to massage and what isn’t.

My tiny new lumps are indeed new skin mets yet the original, what I call the mother lode, is definitely insignificant now. He talked again about electrochemotherapy but that does mean I’d need to stop capecitabine and he wants me to continue with it as long as I can “because the future options are so few”. It’s the first time he’s sounded a bit discouraging but in fact, things are doing ok. Not brilliant but ok.  No MRI results though.Then came the blow - the bugger is leaving in April!!! I took it well, only swearing when I told D in the corridor. He’s young, on the up and wanted very much to go back to Ireland with his family. Sigh.

We decided not to stop off for a coffee as I could feel my mini-UTI was active. I was more than bursting for a pee. Home we went, had lunch, then I went to the loo again and pop! Now considering that I taught sex education (often very frank as is suited to the area I worked in) and also sometimes trained teachers in teaching high school sex education, you’d think I’d be ‘body alert’ but chemo kind of means you take your eye off the ball. With all my obsessing about bowels and constipation and trying not to get haemorrhoids, I never once gave the rest of my body any thought. STUPID. I now had a lump outside my vagina, the vaginal equivalent of a haemorrhoid I guessed. The result of assuming I’d get back some oestrogen now I’d stopped hormone therapy and ‘out of sight, out of mind’. Scary, regardless.

I ended up ringing 111 at 11pm, after Lisa (over WhatsApp) sent a link to vaginal prolapse. I didn’t read much but I did click on the photo and that was mainly what I’d seen when I’d perched with a mirror between my legs. 111 dealt with me promptly, which surprised me for a Friday night, especially as I was warned by the machine that waiting could take up to 7 hours, and the nurse clinician decided I needed to speak to a GP, which would be within 2 hours. I then got a text asking me not to use the 111 service as it was very busy and was only dealing with emergencies. I was urged to wait and speak to my GP in the morning. (Yeah, like they work at weekends!!). That really bothered me. Did I stay up till 1 in case a GP rang or not. It’s not surprising that people are deterred from using these services and head straight to A&E for fear they won’t get a response from 111.

Meantime, the atmosphere was lightened when Lisa suggested I take a photograph to send to the GP - if requested, I hasten to add. Erm… try taking a photo when you need one hand to expose the offending area, one hand for a torch and another for the phone which needed to be held, angled right and leave a digit free to reach the button to take the photo. I got one eventually, then had hysterics at the thought of sending the equivalent of a dick-pic, medical or not! Fortunately he took my word for it, didn’t request an photograph and arranged an out of hours appointment in Sheepscar at 8.30.

Sheepscar is a very dicey area and the building was right on the end of a nightmare one-way system but we found it in the ice and fog and I hobbled to the building. I was seen by a lovely young GP who probably didn’t want that sight so soon after breakfast. He was so gentle and considerate and recommended an urgent referral to Gynaecology. He thought I might have a prolapsed cervix (not vagina) or a large cervical polyp. He said to ring my GP Monday morning to make sure it was done, at which I just rolled my eyes.

 What to look forward to!
She doesn’t look enthusiastic!

Now I owe an apology for maligning my GP practice so often. Monday morning I rang at 9. Someone answered immediately. I almost dropped the phone in shock. The receptionist arranged for a GP to ring me that morning. At 10.30, my GP, Dr N, rang me and made the referral while talking to me. She also gave me practical advice about how to deal with it in the meantime because it is NOT comfortable and is sometimes painful. APOLOGIES. I got a call the next morning - could I go to the hospital Friday morning. So Friday morning, Emma is taking me for a colposcopy (tho I doubt they’ll bother since it’s so obvious what’s happened), and then Lisa is taking me Friday afternoon for my head MRI. I shall be nicely stoned most of the day - one thing to look forward to.

So ladies, respect your vagina. You only get the one. Use it and, if you’re too ill for sex, look after it. Being a dried up prune is one thing, having bits drop out is another!!