Diagnosis

“It’s not good news…”

Those were the words spoken by the consultant at the ENT clinic in Blackburn Hospital.  That was the moment I knew I had cancer.

Actually, I’d known a few minutes earlier when my wife and I were called in to get the results of my biopsy.  Instead of just the consultant and the nurse in the room, as before, now there was a third person.  A woman with a very serious expression on her face.  And she was clutching a clipboard.

Nothing good ever comes on clipboards.

Clipboard

That was when I knew.

Although, to be fair, I’d suspected what the diagnosis would be when the receptionist in the x-ray department booked in for a CT scan for the next day.  Appointments usually take weeks, at the very least.  Hurrying a scan wasn’t a good sign.

Neither was the fact that the consultant had taken FOUR samples during my biopsy – two from the outside of the lump in my throat/neck, and two from inside.  The complete right hand side of my face and neck had been numbed, and then the consultant had slid open a drawer of tools that wouldn’t look out of place of the set of a horror movie.  They glinted in the harsh, fluorescent light.  If they had voices, they would have been cackling.

The first two samples were taken via a gadget that was pressed against my throat, then a thin saw punctured my skin and slid inside my lump.  It was horrible – not because I could feel the samples being taken, but because I could hear the saw rasping back and forth on the flesh inside, well… inside me!

I can’t even be in the kitchen when my wife cuts up pieces of chicken!

The two inner samples were simply ripped out of the lump.  By that point, I had a weird feeling that something was amiss.  This feeling was enhanced by the consultant’s insistence that I didn’t go home but, instead, returned for the biopsy results in 45 minutes’ time.

That was a fun three-quarters of an hour, I can tell you.

But, does it really matter?  Does it matter if I can pin down the exact moment when I knew I had cancer?  Is that in the slightest bit important?

I really don’t know.

 

Opt In Image
Support Tommy and Get Stuff!
Become a patron, support Tommy and get exclusive content every month

Like many children's authors, the large portion of Tommy's income comes from holding speaking events and writing workshops in schools - two things he is currently unable to do. It's not all doom and gloom, though. Tommy is still delivering great writing advice - and lots of other stuff, too - via Patreon. From just $1 (about 70p) per month, you can get access to this completely exclusive content AND help Tommy through this difficult time. Sign up now!  Just click on the button below for more details. Your inbox will thank you for it!

Please help by sharing this post...Share on FacebookShare on Google+Tweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInShare on RedditShare on Tumblr

2 Comments


  1. Tommy, what can one say, please keep writing, and let me know whats happening. I lived in Stacksteads 60 years ago. Up Heathhill Drive.. This week I went along to an Orthodentist to see about getting new dentures, He,s found 2 nodules in the roof of my mouth, so now I am starting on the ct stuff. and yes I,m bricking it, BUT I,m 74,and all kids including grandkids are all grown up. So my dear boy, I feel for you and your family big time. I was a nurse up to 3 years ago. so they say a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. I will think about you every step of the way… Cant hold you in my arms, BUT I can hold you in my arms. Big hugs to you and your family. xxxx

    Reply

  2. Ah, thanks for sharing your honest blog. I will be reading your updates from now on with hope and faith for your full recovery.

    I do know how you feel, having been diagnosed with breast cancer in April last year. I was 33 and have 2 young kids. I knew it was bad news when they got my husband and me coffee in Real cups while we waited.

    Best wishes.

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *