Well, so it looked like I might have cancer, not the best news in the world for us all.
The fantastic Doctor swung into action, and no sooner than he had studied the scan and told us what he thought was the diagnosis, he said that he would arrange for us to go to one of the Birmingham hospitals where they would be able to do a biopsy of what was now called my tumour. To this day I don’t know why we had to go to Birmingham and not stay locally at Chesterfield or Sheffield.
Needless to say the OSO was very upset, can’t say I was too chuffed either to be honest and then to cap it all the OSO started having a go at me for always going to hospitals in boring places such as Birmingham, Leeds (for my heart, another story) and Sheffield. She wanted to know why we couldn’t go somewhere nice like America or Barbados, there’s no pleasing some people!
So off we went to Birmingham so they could cut out a chunk of my hand to see what was in the swelling tumour.
So the OSO and I had to go together, the Docs said I would need to be in for a couple of days or so which meant Dad would have to stay home with the brothers and Mum and I go to stay in the hospital (here we go again!)
The first problem was getting there! Sat nav. hadn’t been invented, or we hadn’t got one, I can’t remember which. The OSO was doing her best trying to get through the centre of a very busy Birmingham not really knowing where she was going. Luckily in my wheelchair in Vera van I had a really good view of the road ahead and the signs so I was able to guide her through quite well though I did had to shout left here, no LEFT at frequent intervals!
Eventually we arrived at the correct hospital and I was admitted onto a really nice ward. Again, everyone was really nice. The surgeon and anaesthetist arrived to discuss what they were going to do. They decided between the that I wasn’t going to have a general anaesthetic but would do the biopsy under a local anaesthetic because it was too risky to knock me out because of the bad way my muscles took up anaesthetics (I couldn’t spell that before, but can now I’ve had so much practice!) I have to say I didn’t fancy being awake one little bit whilst they chopped bits out of my hand, but there was no arguing with them. The OSO said
‘not to worry she would come in the operating theatre with me and hold my hand’(my right one).
They said no she might be squeamish and faint (clearly they didn’t know the OSO)
In the end I had to go in on my own I think the OSO was peering in through the keyhole practically shouting words of encouragement to me, and telling the surgeons what to do -well, you know by now what’s she’s like.
So that was that. I had to stay in hospital for another day and then we were allowed home with my left hand swathed in huge bandages. Mum just said I was lucky it was my left hand because if it had been my right I wouldn’t have been able to drive my wheelchair so would have been stuck. She is SO caring!
We managed to get home in one piece with help and good navigation skills from your's truly. The folks at the Birmingham hospital said they would send the results to the Sheffield Children’s Hospital as a matter of urgency and we should soon get to know what the official diagnosis was and then get the treatment plan of what to do. So it was sit and wait again, the OSO’s best thing!