So where did I leave it?

Oh yes… May 23rd was when the lovely Mr Salvi rang with my MRI results which were like a sucker punch to the stomach. I was reeling with the information, stuck in the centre of Leeds trying to comprehend what it all meant whilst trying to keep everything together until I got home.

Mr Salvi said that the next thing that would happen would be a follow up from the Oncology department in Leeds and in my naivety I thought that would be the following week but the reality was that I had to wait 3 weeks until an appointment with them (although I did have a CT scan whilst waiting) this waiting was THE WORST. I can’t even put into words how it felt knowing that I had been told the worst possible news which would have unimaginable consequences for my family but I had to wait 3 weeks for the next steps (it was like when you were a kid waiting for Christmas, except replace that feeling of excitement with a pit of doom in your stomach)

Again, I think I was pretty naive walking into that appointment 3 weeks later, I had convinced myself that it was all a mistake as I was feeling alright in myself (the joys of living of adrenaline for 3 weeks!) and so I fully expected them to say that they had got it all wrong.

Now I don’t know about you, but when I am told that I am going to see an Oncologist Consultant whose name is similar to a much loved and celebrated elderly female fictional crime solver and Doogie Howser turns up, I do feel a bit short changed. Nothing wrong with the young very polite doctor (who I am sure was more than qualified) but I wanted to see who I was booked into see, the person with over 15 years experience, especially when we were discussing how long I have left to live.

Doogie was left to give me the awful news that the average life expectancy for someone with Melanoma (that bit is important to remember) metastatic liver cancer is 12 months and your only option to prolong any kind of life is immunotherapy, which is a concoction of awfully potent drugs that will make you feel like utter dog shit and probably land you in hospital on steroids and you most likely won’t be able to finish the whole treatment,

“We can fit you in next week to start, please sign here.”

Doogie wasn’t quite so brutal as the above, but it is funny what your memory holds on to and I certainly wasn’t that keen on the one option that he had given me. I asked about alternatives or trials that might be possible and the difference in the statistics for Ocular Melanoma liver metastatic cancer (very different beast to Melanoma) but with a shake of his head, he concluded that immunotherapy was the ‘gold standard’ and therefore the only option.

Heading out of the appointment, Mr Me-Myself and Eye and I were in shock, we couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening, but we both knew in our hearts that it couldn’t possibly be our only option and so we started to research…

When I say we, I clearly meant Mr Me-Myself and Eye. Whilst I continued to flit around pretending that none of this was happening to me and booking random concert tickets to take the kids to see Girls Allowed (they had no idea who on earth they were despite me saying “oh this is a classic – you know this”) he has the type of brain that when he is focussed on something, he will not stop until he has all the answers, it’s like a little super power of his. I knew that if anyone was going to come up with an alternative it was going to be him.

Next up, a trip down memory lane to Liverpool and the alternative (oooooh, it makes it sound like a soap opera! It’s much more boring but never the less, it was fun writing it!)

Laters,

HC