THE PLAN

5 months later and we’re sat in the exact same chairs, in the exact same corridor, staring at the exact same leaflets. It’s like a bad sequel. The only difference is that we’re no longer the new kids.

There’s a scene at the end of the movie ‘An Officer and a Gentlemen’ where Richard Gere is leaving his army base after completing his training. As he walks along, he passes all of these new recruits who are going through the same pain that he had to endure all those months before, only this time he’s the the more experienced one who knows what’s coming next. It’s a bit like that here this afternoon. There are lots of people walking past us as we’re sat here. Nurses come out of different rooms calling different names and you can see people who are in the same position as we were 5 months ago. They walk into the rooms holding each other as they face whatever news awaits them. It’s horrible to think that they’re going to have that same shocked feeling if they are told the news. The numbness, the slowing down of time for a minute or the not hearing a word anyone says because all they can hear is the C word repeating in their head, over and over and over.

Nia, our very first cancer nurse (and one that we haven’t seen since February) spots Sam from across the corridor and comes straight over. She seems genuinely pleased to see her. She asks how Sam has coped with the chemo and how it affected her. She then starts to explain that surgery will normally be scheduled 4-6 weeks after the last chemo date. This is to let the body recover from the gruelling sessions that it’s had to endure for the last 5 months. I took this opportunity to ask my favourite question:

“Won’t leaving it so long mean that the tumour will grow back?”

“No! It will not grow back in that time. You have nothing to worry about”

That’s the answer and response I was looking for. She looked at me with authority and made me feel at ease. That’s better. Much better.

She takes us into a room and we sit and wait for the head surgeon to walk in. It’s a little room with a sink and an ultra sound scanner in it. It’s quite warm and for some reason there are air freshener sprays scattered around. We’re sat here for approx 5 minutes when the door finally opens and in she walks (with Nia). Here we go….

After the formalities are out of the way, the details kick in. She starts off by saying there is good news (always a good way to start a conversation) and that the tumour has shrunk by 50%. It’s now only 2cm in size and good enough for Sam to just have a lumpectomy (yay!).

We then talk about the lymph nodes. They have decided that, due to the fact there was only a tiny trace of cancer located in one of the nodes, that they will not remove them but instead treat them with radiotherapy. I’m quite happy with this decision as I was worried that if they removed all of them, then this would get rid of any defence that Sam would have against any kind of infection or comeback that could come her way. However, she did say that if the cancer had been found in both lymph nodes, then we would be having a different conversation altogether. Overall though everything sounds promising.

The date they have pencilled in for Sam to have the lumpectomy is July 14th. That will make it just over 4 weeks since her final chemo session. They’re going to call us tomorrow to confirm the date, but it looks like it’s going to go ahead on this day.

Great news!! I was really worried that it was going to be a long time before the surgery would take place, but I’m really pleased that it’s going to happen really soon. It’s day surgery apparently, so Sam won’t have to stay in overnight (unless she reacts badly to the anaesthetic) but she’s getting a dab hand at this surgery lark so I’ll expect she’ll be out within the hour (unless she gets her craving for jacket potatoes back again). 😉