I’m writing this from my conservatory. When I look out, I can see huge great white blooms of blossom in the garden, Goldenballs is clattering about in the kitchen making dinner, complete with home grown plum crumble and I’ve had a visit from my bestest and oldest friend in the world today. Days like this and all is right in the world. Days like this, and I can’t bear the thought that I might not have many more days like this. It’s just too cruel, which is why I refuse to believe it.
Tomorrow I’m going into hospital to have my head scanned again so the surgeon knows exactly where to cut into my head, with a saw. On Tuesday, he’ll remove a small part of my skull, (obviously) very carefully cut out a 1.4cm tumour from the left parietal lobe of my brain, seal it to stop it bleeding and stitch me up again. Apparently I will then spend a little time in intensive care before they move me onto the main ward, where everyone else will have had some form of brain surgery as well. I could, however, be home in as little as three days and I could have my weave glued back on within a couple of weeks. I’ve only been wearing a normal wig for 2 days but Goldenballs has already seen my little fluffy head. I hate it, I feel so much like a cancer patient and my beautiful stick-on hair is SUCH an antidote to that. Having to be almost completely bald, in a hospital for brain injuries frightens me. Really it does. I cannot begin to get my head round having a brain tumour which is why I’m glad they are getting it out of me fast. I have been assured that I may never have a repeat of this problem again. It’s certainly not the case that, once you have brain secondaries, you’re immediately toast. Yes, statistically it puts a whole different agonising slant on it, in that the numbers suddenly start looking a whole lot bleaker. But I have to keep remembering the reassurance I’ve had recently from my new brain doctor Naomi (who I will see, alongside Alison, every 3 months now so she’s about to come the Boss #2). In addition to all the other clever doctors I have surrounding me, my two surgeons and my breast nurse, my team is now massive as it includes Naomi and my brain surgeon, Mr Kitchen. I have to remember that. Living in London, being under Alison’s care, allows me access to THE BEST specialists. If they say there’s a good chance I’ll recover fine from this surgery and never have a problem again, then I have to believe that. A lot of women aren’t as fortunate.
I’m not out of the woods yet, not by a long shot – it’s a precarious situation to be in, one that has been always my biggest fear, but it doesn’t necessarily mean this is the beginning of the end, or anywhere near the end, as my good friend Ellie (thanks beb x) has pointed out. I’m going to have to stay calm, let them do what they have to do, rest up a bit and get back on track with chemo as planned in a few weeks. All’s not lost yet, am just going to somehow find some more balls from somewhere. Grit my teeth and get on with, even though I’m SO scared. I’m in good hands, GREAT hands, and they wouldn’t be doing what they are about to do unless they absolutely had to. See you on the other side I guess – really appreciate everyone who has sent good vibes and wishes, has meant a lot to both me and Goldenballs x