The Hysterectomy

Now sense of humour is just so important even at the worst of times. What can we do if we can’t crack a joke, make fun of ourselves, or just have a good old laugh ( or a sneaky giggle) ? But don’t get me wrong now , its damn hard to laugh when Cancer decides to creep up on you – cancer happily trots along with its little bag of tricks and just throws them in your face without even the courtesy of introducing itself. It throws fear, pain, heartache, disbelieve, lonliness,anger ..there are a million different feelings but let me tell you in all those I have met along the way who have been dealt the crappie stick cancer also brings courage , determination , resiliance and an absolute want and wish to be able to stay around for even a short while, not for yourself but for those you love.

So after sitting in the Green Bucket Chairs for what felt like forever my name was called, ” Sinead Whyte”, called up by a breast care nurse who would become such an important person in my life.

There we sat , me , my husband and my sister, no messing about , confirmation that I had breast cancer – it had also snuck its way into theLymph nodes. I sat there quite calmly – the surgeon said I looked prepared. Belive me I was ! I would need further tests, the body and bones – scans he said to determine if the cancer had spread …I asked one question ” Do I have a chance?” I had two teenagers at home and if I didn’t I needed to know. He said he felt I had but we had to wait for further results.

I lay in the scanning machines , after being injected with blue dye for one of them. I lay there while people spoke to me through a speaker and asked if I was doing ok. I was saying Hail Mary’s by the dozen. Now I would not be a holy Joe but my god was I looking for help from anywhere. This was one of my lowest points, Lying there wondering, wondering if the people behind the wall could see if I had a chance or no chance. I thought of the people I Loved who would have gone through this and I thought of my family. Why was I putting them through this again? It just was not fair. You see two years previous my dad left this world after cancer had visited with its bag of tricks and how could my family go through this again?

Now if I have not lost you by now fast forward a week. Back for the scan results. Sweet mary mother of jesus , the brandy bottle was out every night ( for medicinal purposes ) of course and there I was again sitting in the Green Bucket Chairs waiting for my name. ” Sinead Whyte”, there was the lovely nurse again and this was it.

Did the Formalities – shook hands with the surgeon, sweat drippin off me again ( seems to be a trend in my life now), after putting on the bit of make up, cause you would have to look presentable to the surgeon ( dispite the fact that it was my boobs he was interested in, not my face) he was happy to tell me all was good . There was a little mark on my liver but it was nothing to do with cancer – I asked him if it was the Brandy- no not brandy just a something or other ( big word) . It was fine and did not need intervention.

So I sat there excited. Yes excited! We could march straight ahead to surgery , how wonderful (not) and before I knew it chemo and radiotherapy would be on my doorstep and I would just have to deal with them.

” Sinead let’s go through your medical history again before your surgery”

“O yes absolutely” I say – verbal diarreah at this point .

” So take me through your previous surgeries again and how you recovered after”.

So with the verbal Diarreah and the excitment of the surgery and the whole “I have cancer and need a boob removed “, my brain stopped working.

Now before we move on just so that you can visualize the situation , I had asked (well told) my husband to say nothing in the office. I would do all the talking. As the song goes ” I should a known better”. He agreed to say nothing as I told him I wanted get the information myself and to ask specific questions.

There I was now, all ready to share my medical history and so proud that I always recoved so well.

“Yes, well I had my Gall Bladder removed in 2004 after having my daughter and I had a hysterectomy”. ” But I made great recovery after both”.

Silence in the room. My surgeon started to flick through my notes , looking a tad puzzled.

“O em when did you have the hysterectomy sinead” – sweat drippin off the poor man.

” O after my son was born”

Bear in mind my daughter was born a year after my son

” O em really”..”yes” I say with great confidence very proud that I had recovered so well from the hysterectomy.

So I am sitting there , smiling away, the surgeon is looking at the nurse, the nurse is stunned ( i am sure they were thinking .O jesus wrong chart, wrong patient ), they both look at my husband..and then everyone looks at me… and there I am looking back at everyone big smile on my face thinking god they must be impressed with my recovery rate.

And then with the rash coming up my surgeons neck and an office full of confusion and panic, My Brain started working again.

” O jesus no, not a hysterectomy – a ceasarian”

Sure in the panic of it all I was just thinking of lady bits and got a little bit mixed up…hysterectomy / caesarian..all in the same place.

I am sure my consultant went home and drank a bottle of brandy, I would say my nurse had to go for a little break and as for my husband..well when this was all going on the thoughts in his head were,

“Jesus christ , when did she have a hysterectomy – I must have been on nights”.