The same, but different…..

‘Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive and will come forth from later in uglier ways’ – Sigmund Freud.

This week I’ve learnt a valuable lesson. I’ve learnt something about myself that I had not realised until recently. I’ve opened my eyes to the fact although I was seen as being wonderful at dealing with my emotions and being strong during my breast cancer treatment, being inspirational, being a pinnacle of positivity. I kidded myself I was just capable of inner strength, that maybe I was a bit weird and just wasn’t very emotional. I wasn’t any of these things….I was just numb!

After what felt like a months of waiting, I was finally on my way to my first appointment with my newly appointed urology consultant to discuss the recent findings and a treatment plan.

I am not a stranger to such appointments, and assumed I would behave in completely the same way as I did when attending my breast oncology appointments. It didn’t once occur to me that, although I had been here before with the cancer thing, that the whole experience would be different in it’s entirety. I didn’t once think anything would be any different than it was the last time I attended such appointments. Until I walked, with letter in my hand, through the doors of Southampton General Hospital and it slowly dawned on me that C3 was not the Urology outpatients department as I had thought, but the Chemotherapy and Oncology ward!

My mind’s way of perverting my thought process was to convince me that the letter said ‘Urology outpatients’, but in fact it said ’Uro Oncology Outpatient’s’. I was dumbstruck as I stood with the appointment letter clasped in my sweaty hand at the doors of C3, and John told me that, yes, indeed this was the right place. He was amazed that I was oblivious to the words Oncology on my letter, and then, swiftly realised my mind-set when he saw the look on my face. Those letters printed with such apparent lack of formality, changed my mindset. I was no longer under the comfortable cover of Urology with possible cancer, I was now under the category of cancer with possible Urology!

It seems crazy now, after the fears I had let in from my hospital stay, and the rationalising that I may be facing cancer again, and in reality, nothing had actually changed. There were no statistics held up on a board to me, in Len Goodman style, boldly displaying my odds, there was no certainty delivered by the consultant that it was definitely cancer or benign, there was no change. The only change was my mindset, and the way I perceived the manner in which the hospital were defining me. I was now Sarah, not being seen by Urology with a possibility it could be cancer, but Sarah, being seen in Oncology, for probable cancer, by a Urologist.

It suddenly struck me that the pretty unimpressive, small shift in wording had derailed me. Why? During my time at Salisbury hospital going to consultations for breast cancer, I had never felt griping nerves in my stomach, a feeling that my legs would not actually have the strength to carry me from the waiting room chair to the consultation room, that any minute I could open my mouth and projectile vomit my breakfast without warning over unsuspecting patients in the same waiting area!

It was at that moment, that I realised………..

I had not let thoughts, fears, or even knowledge in before. I carried myself like a robot, I was on automatic, frozen, unseeing, unthinking, carried by a need to shut all that out due to other factors in my life at that time. I was living in Dorset, my children were 3 and 6, my marriage was on the rocks and I was living miles away from my family. I didn’t have room for fear, or the time to think. I didn’t even have time to be ill!

This time, I feel more connected, more aware, my eyes are open and I am listening (well, at times!). I am in a better place, I have support around me now I live closer, I have John, my ever diligent fiancé who is wholeheartedly protective of me and is my rock, I have my friends who were there for me before, however, I feel I can lean on them more now that I’ve let my guard down, and I have my family near and far, who this time, I will ‘let in’.

My choices were to have cryotherapy ablation, which essentially turns the tumour into an ice ball to kill the cancer cells, which is then absorbed by the body. Less invasive, with less complications. The other option is partial nephrectomy (removal of some of the affected kidney, but not all). More invasive, more chance of complications, but after intensive research this weekend, a higher long-term survival rate overall than cryotherapy and a chance for the surgeon to have the all important ‘eyes on’ of the kidney and anything else that may have alluded the CT scan. My choice is to have surgery, impressively carried out partially by a robot called Da Vinci!

The operation will be in approximately 4 weeks time, so for now, I have climbed out of my black hole, shaken myself off, made plans to regain some normality by returning to work for 2 days a week until the surgery, and started to batch cook for the impending ‘ mummy can’t cook right now as she’s had a chunk of her kidney out’ recovery time. As an aside, a fleeting thought recently made me wonder that if I carry on like this, by the time I reach 80 I’ll look like I’m made out of Gouda cheese!

The one thing I most definitely am not doing though is returning to the frozen state of watchful wakefulness. I will embrace the times when I feel raw nerves jangling like I’m due to go for an interview when I think of future appointments, when I wake at night feeling dread thinking ….’what if’, the overwhelming relief if it’s in fact benign and has all been a dreadful scare and the feeling that my heart will burst with pride for my children whilst experiencing the sour sharp pain that comes with uncertainty of what the future holds.

I will embrace it all, because, this way, I know I’m not burying it all. I know I won’t have a huge fallout randomly down the line, I know I am dealing with it. This time I will encourage the ups and downs, the glimmers of hope, the worries, the journey because I can’t shut it out again.

I have now realised, yes it is the same……..but it’s also different.