Scanning

I had my first MRI scan today. I was wholly unprepared. I even went on my bike which was ok but when they sat me down and explained what was about to happen I remember thinking 'I hope I'm able to cycle home!' What I hadn't realised is that they were to insert a canula in my arm to be able to flush contrast medium through my blood so they could image the blood supply to the fibroid. I am quite a baby when it comes to needles so I felt a wave of anxiety and nausea and asked if I could lie down while that was being done. They were very kind to me and said of course but then I had to be physically wheeled into the machine room, strapped down and this huge metal cage put over my abdomen. My arms were raised above my head and then with a gentle motion pulled inside the huge doughnut loop of the machine so that I was completely enclosed. They had given me headphones playing classical music to dim out the loud whirring and clicking of the machine and at various points during the next half hour they communicated to me what was going on. It was still a weird, surreal and disembodying experience. And, apparently I have to have another couple, 1 after the procedure and 1 3 months later. I guess the subsequent ones won't be as bad as I'll know what to expect. I had to really try not to open my eyes as when I did it was a bit scary. There is only the 2 strip lights above your head within the body of the machine to illuminate your surroundings, and if you are at all claustrophobic I imagine you would struggle. They give you a bulb to squeezee if you need to attract attention. Certainly they would not hear you if you shouted as they are in another room. The whole thing took about 45 minutes. I will now wait to see what the results of that are at my consultant appointment in 2 weeks time. The wheels grind slowly on..

I am so glad to be out, so grateful for fresh air and sunshine (not that there is any at the moment). My thoughts turn to people I know who've had to go through this and there hasn't been a happy outcome, where perhaps it confirmed a terminal diagnosis. I feel very sad and contemplative therefore. I am also very tired, the stress is exhausting! I don't doubt that I'm in a good hospital, I've worked there, it's a large teaching hospital and know we are very lucky to have free medical care via the NHS. The treatment I'm having would probably have cost best part of £20,000 if I was paying privately. That would have cleared me out completely and I would be like many people in the States who have no insurance. Again, a reason to be glad.

Post-Christmas blues

Hi warriors. It's been a strange Christmas blighted by the death (or 'passing on' as some euphemistically say) of two people, one a friend, the other a relative. Both were men in their 70's so perhaps you could say they had a 'good innings' but my sadness is still very real. It is those of us left behind who suffer their loss. The first to go was my ex-father-in-law who had become a real friend to me in recent years, who was so gentle and quietly supportive without ever interfering that I came to rely on his email missives which would always be sent back at times when I needed it. The last I saw of him was in the summer, when on my annual visit, we did the usual things of going shopping, eating a meal out and getting told off by the police. Well perhaps the last is not that usual but it is an endearing memory I will have of him of being ticked off by a well-meaning female police-officer who thought I should take more care of the poor chap. She obviously thought his mind was going as he'd lost a wallet and assumed, I think, that I had more influence than I, in fact, had. We laughed about it afterwards for quite a while. So, I know that I can carry those memories with me, though they will never substitute for him they are at least a subtle connection to his spirit which I do believe is still around somewhere.

My uncle I barely knew to be fair but I'm sad for my mother (whose brother it was) and his family who I can imagine are very sad at this point. Having lost my own father many years ago (when I was 19) I still remember the shock and sadness of that time. Time heals it is said but in my experience it just numbs you til you are ready to do the real work of healing and that takes effort and skills. Mine has only just begun really and it was over 25 years ago.

So, anyway my thoughts have been with loss but also with my own health which, as you know, has had a few shake-ups this year. 2010 began with a suspected skin cancer which turned out to be a wart which fell off within a few weeks, and now continues with a large fibroid which it seems I have been developing quietly (asymptomatically) over the last year. It has eventually made itself known by growing so large I could not avoid it and took myself to my GP in October. She was so worried she immediately sent me for blood tests, scans and the like and, though the diagnosis is not so worrying as she obviously first suspected (nothing was expressly said but her urgency said it all), it is a benign tumour nonetheless.

Now, as you know, my interest and specialism is cancer so I guess you could say this is all learning for me, of the deepest kind. I know I don't have cancer at this point but I do know my body is out of balance. Fibroids are related to oestrogen dominance (as are some forms of breast and prostate cancer) so evidently something is out of whack. I have been through the usual forms of self-enquiry - is it my childlessness (one of the predisposing factors), is it my use of soymilk (a phytoestrogen) or some unresolved emotional conflict from my past? However, you look at it there is some work to be done. I have got over the initial shock and am focussing on both conventional and more holisitic treatments. I am signed up for a procedure called embolisation which fires little pellets of an inert substance into the artery supplying the uterus which aims to block the blood supply to the fibroid and cause it to shrink. But I am also castor oil packing (soaked on a cloth and applied with heat to the body), taking proteolytic enzymes (fibroids are largely composed of fibrin, a protein so these enzymes should help to break it down), Di-indole methionine (a natural product of cruciferous vegetables) and herbs to help my body regain its balance. I also had a very powerful acupuncture session in a dream (don't laugh, this was as real an experience as one in so-called 'reality'). I do mean to follow it up with another one in this dimension but haven't found the right person yet. I have had a colonic irrigation and a liver cleanse to clear the chanels of elimination. And much mindfulness meditation and some EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique) which I have found released a lot of fear around a new relationship and my sexuality.

Clearly there is a lot more to do. 2011 will be a year where I continue to connect with my body, learn what it is trying to tell me and heal myself. I will also see what conventional medicine has to offer - this procedure is clearly very clever and ingenious but what of the long-term effects of blocking the blood supply? This is something I will be enquiring when I go for my next check-up. It is an intruiging and complex story, I am only grafeful to be given the chance to explore it. So, goodbye 2010 and to those we have lost. Good healing to you all in 2011.