The results are in - I'm not pregnant!

No really! It's true. Read on dear follower.....

Life has been ticking along perfectly normally. My hair has gone completely crazy and I look like a cross between a microphone and some kind of mad professor on a daily basis. It's gone quite curly and is at that weird stage where I don't want to have it cut because I will only need to go through the pain of growing it once more. Weirdly there doesn't seem to be as much grey there as there was before, so on some levels there has been a result! Hopefully with the advent of spring it will now start growing a little faster as it feels like it has been growing painfully slowly compared to some others in a similar situation that I have scoured on the internet.

I had the scan on Friday and it wasn't a pleasant experience. I stayed overnight in London on Thursday evening with work (dinner at the OXO tower with my new team, very pleasant!) and then (as usual) didn't sleep a wink. It's become a bit of a routine now. More irritating was the fact that I couldn't eat for 4 hours before the scan, which because of the timing meant I couldn't have a cooked breakfast on Friday morning at the hotel - gutted!

I arrived at the hospital on Friday morning having not set foot in the place since December. It's the longest I've been out of the place since my diagnosis. It felt very weird and not particularly pleasant being back. The sounds, the smells and the familiar sites just bought everything rushing back. Even down to the spot just as I drive in the gates where the radio looses reception. I had to remind myself that things are now much better than they were this time last year. This time last year I was about to receive my final chemo - we have come a long way and I tried reflecting on what I have come through. It helped slightly.

And so to the scanning room. As I now don't have a port, I needed to have a cannula put in. I'm not great with needles, but apparently I have good veins. That's a good thing, especially as I can only have needles put in on my right arm because of the risk of lymphoedema on my left hand side where I have had all the lymph nodes removed. This is basically where I end up looking like I have an elephant arm and to be avoided at all costs. They went through the usual drill with me and then ended with "You're a regular, you know all about this." Not exactly what you want to hear!

Lying in the scanner, again the familiarity came rushing back. The whirring of the machine, the pen mark on the inside of the scanner (not sure why that is there), the computerised voice telling me to breathe in and then breathe normally, the lights going on and off in the scanner and the feeling of having wet myself (I hadn't) and the metallic taste of contrast as it courses through my body.

This time we were scanning from the hips upwards for 2 reasons, firstly to check on my lungs and then to also have a peak everywhere else whilst I was being exposed to radiation and contrast to check that the cancer hadn't decided to squat elsewhere.

And then, the interminable wait for the results. My Consultant knows I am not good in-between, so the wait has only been a couple of days. I've also had work to keep me occupied in the meantime so have managed to ignore it during the days. As ever, it has been the nights that have been difficult.

One thing that did help was having a busy weekend. I met up with one of my cousins whom I haven't seen for (we reckon) around 20 years! It was great seeing him and his family again and Briony slotted in with his 2 boys as though she had known them for years. A good time was had by all and we have both promised not to leave it as long next time. We both know that life is too short - he lost his Dad (my Uncle) to cancer last summer. He was a lovely man, fiercely intelligent, kind and funny. There aren't many octogenarians who read Quantum Physics for the sheer fun of it!

Monday threw a bit of a curved ball. I've had a bit of breast pain in my one remaining breast and so had booked a GP appointment to get it checked out. The GP said that she could feel a lump (I couldn't) and so I'm back on the 2 week referral pathway again. To say I'm gutted doesn't really cover it. More because I guess I now realise that whilst I may be out of the woods for the time being, the shadow of the disease will always be with me, waiting to pounce just when I feel like things are getting back on track. The GP said that she thinks it is a fibroadenoma, but wants to refer me just to be sure.

Another reminder ladies, check those breasts. Put a reminder in your diary on your phone (probably best to mark it as private if it is a work phone!), write it on the calendar, make a mental note on a certain day of the month (the date of your Birthday works well), but make sure you do it and if anything changes, please do see your GP. The breast clinic people are lovely and would rather see 100 people who don't have it, or catch the one person that does early rather than wait. I have another friend this week who has just been diagnosed and I feel a weird sense of pride that it was because of something I said that she went to see her GP. Some good has come of all this.

Tuesday dawned. Luckily it was a really busy work day so I didn't get the chance to think about things much. The appointment was a 6.30pm. On the drive over to the hospital the nerves started to get the better of me and I was shivering, despite cranking the heating up to full blast and snuggling down in my full on winter Canada Goose. We were ushered to a different waiting room this time and there was a couple already in with the consultant in front of us. Sadly the waiting room was directly outside of the clinic room and you could hear every word that was being said. I must say something to the hospital about that as it isn't ideal! Anyway, I was busy thinking about how many times the poor consultant must have to say the same thing to all us women. This lady was just about to start radiotherapy, so a bit behind me in her journey. This couple left and then there was a long break of about 10 minutes. I knew I was next and so started wondering what was taking so long. This is where your mind runs away from you as obviously I was thinking that he was reviewing everything and trying to think how to tell me.

And so my time came. Deep breath, walk in, sit down. He's smiling. Is that good or bad?

I hadn't actually sat down (we were on small talk) and he said "I'm sorry about the wait, the computer was on a go slow and I wanted to check the good news." I started saying "That's OK, don't worry" and then what he had just said sunk in. Rewind, regroup - this is good! He confirmed that the results showed that nothing had changed in my lungs. I pushed him and he said that given the nature of my disease, if it were cancer in my lungs he would have expected something to change by now (caveated with "We can never be sure," but I'll take that). Nothing else has shown up on the scan either (that wasn't there before), so this is pretty much the best news we could have hoped for. In the sick game of hokey cokey that my body is playing with me, it seems that this month it is looking more likely that those pesky lung nodules are not cancer. The plan from here on in is to do one more scan in 3 months to be on the safe side and then consign those nodules to benign rather than cancerous. About bloody time - I've been living with this for 18 months now and I think that is plenty long enough to teach me a lesson about living with uncertainty.

The rest of the appointment passed. I mentioned about the GP referral, and this was met with a quick check of the scan and a comment about following it through. From his manner (more than what was actually said) we were both left with the impression not to worry too much about it. I'll take that from a Consultant who seems to be naturally cautious.

The only other thing left to discuss was the trial drug I have been requesting. We had a relatively long discussion on this. In summary, he isn't keen. The drug has a relatively shocking side effect profile (~90% of patients get some form of diarrhoea) and with my issues with Coeliac disease it isn't a route to be taken lightly. He has said that he will support me if that is the route I choose to go and pretty much everything is in place for it. The drug isn't commercially available yet, so this has involved a lot of paperwork and organising, for which I am grateful. He has said that he wouldn't do it if he were me. But then he isn't and it is a very personal choice. I've said that I will go back and review the clinical data so I know what I am letting myself in for and then make my final decision. I still feel that I won't be content until I know that I have thrown absolutely everything at this, but I want to reflect on my final decision.

And the pregnancy test......yes, I really did have to do one! If I do start on this new drug they need to confirm that I'm not pregnant. That really would have topped my year off!