So most of my appointments I’m accompanied by my husband as two ears (well three, if you actually count his two and my one), two views, two opinions are always better than one. But on Wednesday I trundled up on my own, as the appointment time was late and we had come down with a houseful of sick kids, Mr J was waiting at home as I reassured him I really wasn’t worried. Google found no horror stories so everything was good. I should know by now never to feel complacent, because this rare cancer sh*t will always grab you by the ankles, shake you and yell “what do you mean you weren’t worried?! Fool! Have you learnt nothing from this?!” No, I just like to stick my head in the sand.
Anyway I digress. I was met by my very thorough, conscientious, consultant, who definitely never leaves any stone unturned. She informed me that she had wanted to see me as the grey pigment from the ‘very good’ photos I had taken, could be one of three things. “The first, it could be the tumour growing through the white of the eye.” Sorry, what?! F**king google didn’t tell me that! I now wanted my husband sitting next to me. How did I think this was going to be O.K? I instinctively brought my fingers up to my eye, it was smooth, no bumps, surely not the tumour growing? Hang on a minute wasn’t I supposed to be in f**king remission?! She was continuing,”secondly it could be thinning of the sclera (white of eye) due to radiation.” Yes, I was thinking, that’s definitely what it is, “thirdly it could be the white cells called macrophages that come to mop up the debris of a regressed tumour. They sometimes leave pigmented staining on the eye. So let’s examine you and see what it is?”
My eye test was strange. Imagine a frosty windscreen where someone has just scraped away sporadic areas, well this is what my left eye is like. I could read the same line as last time, but only because I was moving my eye up and down and to the side so I could pear through the clearer area of the windscreen. Then my eye was dilated and as I was waiting for the drops to take effect I had the ultrasound done on my eye. It’s very easy, you just close your eye, jelly is placed on your eyelid and then the probe just rubs gently over your closed lid. Measurement, 7.5 by 1.5, my heart started beating, that’s not right, it was 7.5 by 1 last time? It can’t have grown, I’m in remission? She moved the probe to another position so that she could see if she could get the previous measurement, it’s quite a difficult thing to do as there are no markers as to where you measured from before, finally she said I think it’s the same, there just appears to be fluid there. Is that bad? Is that the tumour active again. No she reassured me, it’s due to the radiation. She then asked the question which has been keeping me awake at night since I saw her “How often are you having your liver scanned?” Why? Have you seen something that worries you? She smiled, “no, its fine, but I would like to see you in a month.”
My now dilated eye was examined and the grey pigment was confirmed as white blood cells, macrophages, clearing away the debris, I didn’t care about the bloody macrophages any more, I was wondering if she would be contacting my jolly oncologist like she did last time she was worried. But she smiled, she wasn’t worried, it is just better to keep to the routine of January appointment and then four monthly. Yes that makes no sense to me either. Why can’t I be four monthly now if there is nothing to worry about? We said our goodbyes, wished each other a Merry Christmas and I stepped out onto the street to call my husband and repeat everything that was said to me. I needed his opinion as I wasn’t feeling great. I left him with “why did she ask about my liver? she knows how often I have it scanned. She had just said to me your liver scan was clear in October? Why did she say that?” Difficult questions to a now also worried husband. “I don’t know” Was the only response as both of us tried to find a viable answer. ‘I’m sure everything will be ok’ Is never the right response, something we both know.
I think everyone with a cancer diagnosis must spend so much time second guessing what is going through someone else’s mind. Wasting so much energy, worrying and wondering if there is actually anything to worry about. I hopped on the tube and made my way home. The evening was spent liaising with the wonderful people on my Ocumeluk closed Facebook group. I have come to the conclusion, with their help, that there isn’t anything really concrete to worry about, if there was she would have been straight with me. I think it is all quite difficult as it is such a rare cancer. The consultants don’t have vast amounts of research or previous patients with similar symptoms to reassure themselves and us that this is par of the course. No one really knows what par of the course is with occular melanoma. So it is best to upturn every little stone along the way. Someone said “it should offer you reassurance that they are keeping such a close ‘eye’ on you” and yes I’m hoping that that feeling of reassurance will soon take over from the feelings of worry.
In the meantime I will concentrate on all the lovely things Christmas has to offer, mulled wine, mince pies, lots of chocolate and of course very cold, very bubbly bubbles!
A lovely friend told me that because I mention bubbles all the time and once signed off from my blog with a ‘my name’s Ruth, Im 43..’ I sound like an alcoholic signing off from AA. I told her she could have bloody told me that before I published it, rather than days later, when the 3000! Yes 3000 people viewing it have already made their opinion on me!
Anyway, just to reassure everyone I have a dodgy eye, not a dodgy liver -yet!
Merry christmas to you all. See you in January!