Today was the day of my cycle 12 scans, one of them being the noisy MRI Brain scan.
Its my least favourite scan, for whatever reason I am particularly sensitive of the thought of anything showing in my Brain.
Dad met me at Oncology after work as we head to the Xray department of the BRI, the last time I went for this scan was a whole year ago as I was waiting to know if I could start the trial and the time before that I actually had cancer. Once given my favourite backless gown I am called into the room to begin, the MRI scan is 20 mins long and quite noisy. It is now one week to Christmas and instead of being out shopping and having festive drinks with friends, here I am being handed a pair of headphones and my head encased in a fixed plastic contraption.
The nurse prepares the scan and notifies me of every stage throughout, they always try to make you feel comfortable and not rushed. It feels like you are in there for longer than 20 minutes but it is bearable.
Roughly halfway though the scan I can't help but think back to my first MRI and the uncertainty I faced as my surgeon and nurse had to determine the chance of spread to the brain. As I lie still I felt a tear fall down my cheek, I couldn't wipe it or move because my head was held still in a brace-like case. I breathed deeply, reminded myself how far I've come and wait for the scan to be over, shortly it's done and I am sent back to be changed.
On the way out of Oncology we bump into my nurse, I give him a bottle of red wine as a Christmas thank you for all those appointments he's helped me through; he will be working late into Christmas Eve and back in on Boxing Day, helping lots of hopeful people like me, as we sit at home tucking into our next meal or open the next bottle of fizz.
The question of results is instigated by my anxious and impatiently caring father and Stephen reassures us he will chase them during the few working days before Christmas. At this point I had adopted the 'No news is good news' attitude and didn't want to hold out for results before Christmas, what if it showed something was wrong?
Until they experience it many people probably won't understand the way a scan result affects someone who's been diagnosed; in a split second it can change everything, that moment right before you are told you're 'all clear' you could otherwise be told you're not.
That is what scares me most about cancer.