Friday, March 19, 2010

Not what we wanted to hear

Mum went to the appointment with her surgeon on her own yesterday. Both mum and dad managed to convince me that I wasn't really needed, that she could do this one on her own, that I needed to save my energy for when she really needed me. It was a quite early appointment too, where I'd run the risk of being late if there had been an accident on the way, and it was an appointment he had squeezed in as he was already fully booked for that day. I was getting quite tired with all the travelling and also wanted to be back here by the weekend as it's my Saturday with the kids - I would have been shattered come Saturday night. Dad reckoned she'd be out of the hospital in 5 mins with an appointment for 3 months' time. So, I stayed home, slept in my own bed, dreamed of the ferry, anxiously watched my clock and jumped to my feet as soon as she rang me.
But it wasn't really what we wanted to hear. The radiologists have decided that they want to do an MRI scan of her liver. The words chemotherapy/radiotherapy have already been mentioned. It is the oncology nurse who is taking care of the appointment for the scan. It might still turn out to be nothing, but it all seems to be getting more serious now.
I'm trying so very hard not to panic. The only way I can manage that is by keeping busy and by not thinking about it. If I do, I get so frightened.
The scan is going to be in 13 days, the day before Good Friday, N.'s birthday to make matters worse. For weeks, he's been saying he's 'basically 8' when you tell him he's seven. When you're 'basically 8', your birthday is a big thing. And now it looks like I might not be able to be there with him. I feel torn in two - I want to be there and make his birthday special, but mum needs me too. My only consolation is that I know J. will try and make his birthday extra special if I'm not there. Mum has gone on a list of cancellations, so if a scan becomes available before next week, they'll let her have it. The results are due a week later. At least I can come back to Britain and be there for I.'s birthday and organise her sleepover which she wants as a party.

I just want to go to bed, pull a duvet over myself and pretend all this isn't happening.