DID I ASK FOR YOUR OPINION?

This week another of my prayers was answered. Finally after weeks of waiting, we found out that my younger daughter DOES NOT have Cowden's syndrome. My relief is intense. I am delighted for her. But to be honest I'm also delighted for me. With two of us in this family with CS, I did not know how I would cope with another. I would have had to of course, but I'm so glad to not be emotionally stretched any further.

The news is bittersweet of course. I look at my elder daughter's face and I can see amongst the joy for her sister, the unspoken question- why me? I recognise it because I've been there myself.  I was the only child out of four diagnosed. I was the only one branded. I catch her line of vision and send her a silent message. It's ok. I'm here too.

For me the week has been chaotic . But to explain, I need to go back to an ultrasound two weeks ago. I have found since losing weight that it is quite painful for me to sit for long periods of time. As usual I wondered if some lump could be causing problems. My GP sent me off for an ultrasound of my bottom, where somewhere between mortified and embarrassed, I lay on my stomach and pretended I was "elsewhere ". The radiographer quickly found two small lumps pressing on my tail bone and according to him probably causing the pain. Happy to have a reason for being mortified, I quickly dressed and told him that I would be making an appointment with my plastic surgeon to have them removed as soon as possible . And that's where trouble started.

He told me that he was very experienced and had worked around the world and that in his opinion there was no reason I needed a plastic surgeon for this. He believed it was a simple procedure and my GP could remove them. Now remember, this is the radiographer, not a doctor or even a nurse. He is supposed to take the pretty pictures not have opinions. Despite this, I immediately began to feel like a hypochondriac and started justifying why I needed the plastic surgeon, who knows my story inside out. He ( I believe) immediately realised he'd gone too far and said he didn't mean to make me feel bad, or words to that effect. Too late, mate.

Now what Mr Radiographer doesn't know is that once upon a time his colleague told me I had breast cancer. This was two years before cancer did actually strike for real. The damage the radiographer did that day was tremendous and both my husband and I never really recovered. We had to wait two whole weeks to find out she was wrong and yet she had seemed so knowledgeable and right.

Six years later yet another colleague told me that I had ovarian cancer. He even got in his boss to confirm. I was shattered and all alone that day. Two people confirmed this. It had to be true. I died a little inside as I rang my husband. Together we told my boss and headed to the city within days. You can see where this is going can't you? My ovaries were full of tumours but not malignant ones. The radiographer was wrong. His boss was wrong. I did not have ovarian cancer.

So I decided to ignore the radiographer and made an appointment to see the plastics man. He read the report and said "no problem" but he would need a hook wire inserted to guide him to the lumps. I would need a general anaesthetic for the actual removal. Take that Mr Radiographer. What GP was gonna do that?

Fast forward to hook wire procedure and imagine me once again embarrassed as three people this time, ultrasound my bottom. The only consolation was that my face was down and nobody could see it. The concern however was that nobody could see any lumps on screen. And without them revealing themselves, there could be no hook wire inserted. I was moved to the CT machine and within minutes the verdict was read. There were no stupid, bloody lumps (sorry for swearing)! The pain must be due to something else.

So the summary here is that a person who should not give medical advice, gave medical advice. He was wrong about the complexity of the procedure. He was wrong about the skill required to remove the lumps. Hell he was wrong about the lumps.

Radiographers beware. The next one that presumes to give me advice or an unsolicited opinion is

going to find out how to make a Maltese cross. And just in case you're reading this and don't get it, I'm from Malta.

Till next time...xxx
ST