From DDs to Diagnosis

My grandmother was so very very sad. No grandparent should see their grandchild struck down in their prime. The thought of having to passively watch me go through this kills her as she is too elderly to be of active help apart from as my supporter and cheerleader. Little does she know how invaluable that role is. She showed her love by making me a christmas dinner a month before christmas. I could taste the love. She is my spirit person - I have never felt a deeper connection to anyone than I do my grandmother and I am absolutely cut from her cloth. We share the same views and since I've gotten sick I've become even more like her, ready to espouse the perils of buying a dog without thinking it through at the drop of a hat, monologue always ready and cantankerously pushing my weight around the hospital, just like my dear old Nanna, an ex glamorous HR exec for the original Harvey Norman who used to gad about in furs and pearls in her glorious post divorce years and now was just as noble in her robe and slippers.

This lunch was as delightful as a degustation to our weary souls. We were all joyous as if this wasn't all happening and it felt like bonus christmas. I was stoked. I pigged out on curried eggs around my bloaty stomach and delicious potato salad and was numb to all that I'd just heard.

My friends were in shock. Flowers poured in from friends family friends and the community and people displayed a kindness I had never known them to be capable of. The first time I had to tell someone was when I ran into an acquaintance my age in my home town where I grew up and she asked how I was. I shakily burst into tears as I admitted things weren't well and I had cancer. The poor girl must have been horrified at the outburst but I was on shaky new ground and I hadn't yet learnt to navigate it as I now can, putting others at ease with the perfect tone of lighthearted humour and calm.

My loyal dog knew something wasn't right. I'm numb here and reeling.

My close group of girlfriends was hit so personally. This wasn't happening to one of us it was happening to all of us. Their mothers grieved for me, having watched me grow up. A close friend I'd grown apart from sent stilted, well mannered condolences as is proper to do. Some people shied away. I can't blame them. When I was in high school a close friends brother died and my first brush with death scared me so much I fell back on ' I don't know what to say' and avoided her. I now know it doesn't matter what you say you just need to be there, but I have been in the shoes of someone who dealt badly with these situations and I am not the one to hold a grudge or condemn them for it. It does mean that they aren't now still in that golden place reserved for the 'ones that were there' of lifetime soul deep friends, but I also would never judge them. Most people went above and beyond, and for that I am forever grateful. For the most part I spent the weekend with family in quiet contemplation of the mountain I was to climb.

It began in my twenties with a persistent bloat. I got all the tests I could done to identify why it looked like i'd eaten a bowling bowl and the verdict was IBS after exhaustive tests ending in a colonoscopy. A doctor proudly stated 'your intestines are just filled with shit'. Wrong, wrong, wrong, mate, but how was I to know? I went on a low FODMAP diet and dressed around my constantly distended, sometimes painful stomach punctuated by crippling episodes of reflux that kept me up all night.

Then, at the age of 25 after starting my eagerly awaited new job at tech company Atlassian, where I felt I finally had the work life balance I'd craved working at my high stress consulting job for two years since uni I felt a persistent pain in my left hip. Obsessive Googling in the wee dark hours of pain revealed it must be Sciatica and I made my first mistake - going to an inexperienced doctor near my home as I was too tired to venture to my female health specialist. Then, a Bowen therapist, Chyro and Physio all had a crack at fixing the pain over the course of a few months with no results, just frustration lack of sleep and tears.

One day my stomach suddenly bloated to become a massive rock hard mass in front of me. More than bowling bowl stomach- double bowling bowl. Something was very very wrong and I was lucky I had gone to work so the nearest doctor was my extremely experienced female health specialist, Mira. She knew instantly something wasn't right and sent me for an immediate X-ray, which I hobbled towards a few blocks away.

“They saw shadow on the scan and for the first time, but not the last, I was pulled in to the side rooms reserved for bad news scans”

I vividly remember leaning on a traffic light, needing to vomit and despairing. I then proceeded to vomit profusely in the bathroom of the scan room. I was terrified. They saw shadow on the X-ray and for the first time, but not the last, I was pulled in to the side rooms reserved for bad news scans. I was too scared to get an intravenous CT scan so I downed the disgusting oral liquid and it was sufficient to show that all was not well - more shadows. I was to go to the hospital emergency immediately and get a full CT scan to see what was afoot.

Very scared of the needle and not knowing that bigger dragons lurked under the surface

Hailing a cab on the street I felt like I was outside of my body. I called my partner at the time (hows the foreshadowing there), Ethan and said he had to meet me at St Vincent's Hospital. His presence calmed me and he helped me to overcome my lifetime held needle phobia by holding my hand, which contributed to why I was being diagnosed late as I'd avoided blood tests like the plague for years. Once I even ran out of a waiting room like a ghost in the night when they wanted to run a blood test. By the time I'd had an ultrasound and a CT scan we were told we were dealing with an ovarian mass. I assumed it would be polycystic ovaries and I was in the good company of several girlfriends I know with the condition. We all had no idea what was to come next. I cried because of the impact to my fertility but didn't even think the C word. A girl in a bed near me told me to 'calm down, it's not a big deal'. I've fantasised about what I would now say to her if I ever saw her again, but it would probably get me arrested. That was when the specialist told me that it looked like cancer and the whole situation turned on its head. The girl had left, so I couldn't revel in my histrionics being justified and then some. My parents needed to get there and things had gotten serious. It was a Friday so I couldn't see the specialist until the following Monday so I was sent home to reel and tell my loved ones the unthinkable.

Home for the weekend to process the unimaginable

A Damsel in Distress with DDs Limped into a Doctors Office...