The
weeks following finding out I had this bastard mass growing inside of
me was a blur of blood tests, biopsies, radioactive PET scans (and
yes I did pretend for the afternoon I was hulk and repeatedly sang Imagine Dragons). We knew I had
cancer, we just didn't know what kind. My consultant said he hoped
for lymphoma, that, he said, he could treat. Such a messed up
situation to be in, to hope I have a type of cancer. I used to hope
i'd win the lottery and I'm now finding myself hoping
for lymphoma. Brilliant.
And
Lymphoma it was to be. Non-Hodgkins Follicular Lymphoma to be exact,
a disease that affects the over 60's. So I'm the height of a 12 year
old fighting a 60 year old's disease. Super.
Oh
and its been growing for two years. Two years of misdiagnosis. And because it was misdiagnosed for so long it had been given the time to spread, so not only did I have a big bastard mass in my abdomen but a rather large and unsightly one on my neck too. Such luck. I knew my
body wasn't right, I knew I had something that shouldn't be there. Am
I cross at the various doctors I saw? Hell yes I am. I'm cross that
my age determined their diagnosis of me. This is why it is so
important that we are aware of our bodies, if you feel something's not
right or you don't agree with a doctors diagnosis, then you get that
2nd and 3rd opinion. I knew my body wasn't
right two years ago, I should have gone with my instinct, I should
have persevered.
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| Let the scans begin... |
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| Could they have possible found a big enough scan outfit! Hobbit. |
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