Medical Drama - Ground Zero

I have tried to live a healthy life, partially as a result of food intolerances, partially hoping that to do so is to ensure a graceful descent into my later years with as little medical intervention as possible but with all my faculties intact.

Until this year, it seemed to be working.

I won't say that I didn't see it coming (in hindsight, there were signals) but like any busy person I put fatigue down to a temporary virus or lack of sleep or eating the wrong foods. So when this symptom reared its ugly head approximately 8 weeks ago, I chose to ignore it. I was pre-menstrual so feeling bloated, I'd been eating all the wrong foods as a result of working late in the office and I thought I'd picked up gastroenteritus which accounted for the gurgling sounds and sensations which were emanating from my abdomen.

I remember that first time leaning up against the sink while washing the dishes or the basin while brushing my teeth and feeling a distinct solidity which didn't feel quite right. I put it down to eating too many carbs and resolved to eat better. This, as well as the fact that it disappeared when my period passed seemed to assuage my natural inclination to panic.

When it happened again, I was still in a state of denial. Every morning I woke up and couldn't feel the mass I put off making a doctor's appointment. What finally convinced me to see a doctor was simply the matter of whether I was going to purchase a weekly rail ticket or not.

As it was a Sunday, I went to a medical centre and saw the first doctor I could get an appointment with. He asked a few questions then had me lie down on his examination table. Instead of prodding at me, he gently pressed both hands from the outside of my abdomen inwards. He said he agreed that I had an unexplained mass, the examination was done and went back to his computer to type. The outcome was a referral to a local lab, initially for an ultrasound, then, should that prove inconclusive, a CT scan. I had to ask what he thought the mass might be and he said possibly a fibroid.

That put paid to my weekly ticket.

Monday morning, not knowing but also not wishing to delay by doing the wrong thing, I rang the lab first up and asked whether I had to fast for the ultrasound. They asked what kind of ultrasound I needed to have. I said abdomen and pelvis. They said you need to fast for one but not the other. So both of us confused, they asked whether I'd drunk anything, following a negative, they gave me an appointment at 9.00 am. I trotted off and into reception where I filled in a form and was asked whether I'd drunk my litre of water. I said that I'd been asked not to.

My ultrasound technician came to fetch me, learned I hadn't drunk any water but decided to take me in anyway. She applied the gel then started to roll the instrument over my now admittedly flattish abdomen. At one stage, she put her free hand on her chest and I wondered whether that was a reaction to what she was seeing on the screen. She said she couldn't see my ovaries but she would print the images and consult with a doctor as to whether I should go straight into a CT scan.

Following consultation with the in-house doctor, she said he thought it was most likely a very large fibroid but had recommended I get the CT scan. I then had to sit in reception, drink 4 cups of water out of the vending machine and wait to be called.

I'm not proud but while waiting and watching Mornings with Kerrie-Anne on the flat screen TV, I was taken by the description of an eco-mop which I was too embarrassed to phone and order immediately but did so once I was back at home eating lunch thus proving that it is possible to shop almost anywhere!

About half an hour later, I went into another part of the building and was shown into a curtained booth where I was asked to remove my clothing while leaving my underpants and socks on, then to put on the gown and tie it at the back. Once I'd done all this (shivering all the while, those gowns are not made for warmth!) I was led into another big room with something that looked vaguely reminiscent of the Stargate gateway, a futuristic giant ring that the bed slipped my body in and out of while it blasted rays of light at specific areas.

I was advised that I would have to hold my breath twice when asked - this always seems like such an easy thing to do until you have to do it. The actual instruction came from a pre-recorded, mechanical sounding voice and I felt like I'd fallen into the set of 2001: A Space Odyssey with my own female version of Dave.

The procedure didn't take long and soon I was resting while a doctor checked that they had everything they needed. A monitor to my left started flipping through images, being rotated and examined by someone I couldn't see. Once the technician confirmed they were done, I was free to get dressed and go back to reception. Here I paid for the service and was told the images would be ready in an hour.

Having skipped breakfast and the time being around 11.00 am, I said I'd come back and went home to eat. I was back at the reception desk a little over an hour later only to be told that while the images were ready, the report hadn't been typed up and "it's quite a long one", as if this was a terrible burden.

For the next two hours, I sat through Ellen and was just thinking about going and getting some lunch when my name was called and I was handed my envelope. Thinking that I just wanted this to be over, I headed straight back to my new GP's medical centre and demanded an appointment, even though the frazzled receptionist didn't want to give me one. Hooray for my new found assertiveness, it's amazing what fear will do to you.

The doctor examined my scans and wrote me a referral to a gynaecologist. He asked me if I had any preference and all I could say was "a good one". The last question I asked him was how urgently I should try to make an appointment and he said "within a week".

This having sent shivers down my spine, I spent a sleepless night and went back to work the next day to wrap up everything I could, resolving to spend time on myself until I had some answers.

The third day, I woke up almost symptomless (the mass had mysteriously moved from its prominent position) and I wondered whether I'd imagined it all. It was a relatively good day, I spent a great deal of it getting my accounts up to date for the end of the financial year.

I probably stayed up a little longer than I should have so by the time I went to have a shower, I was feeling quite exhausted.

All today I've felt slightly nauseous and the bloating has returned. I'm glad now that I wasn't at work today as it would have been really uncomfortable.

My appointment is on July 8th. So the countdown begins, one day at a time ...