Welcome To My World, Won't You Come On In....

I hope you find my blog interesting, helpful and comforting. Whether you are going through cancer treatment yourself, or know someone close to you who is fighting, I hope it provides a little insight into my journey that may help you along your way.

I have recently written a book about my experience of being diagnosed with cancer at just 16. Eleven years on, "Kiss From A Rose" reflects on the sadness, fear and frustration I felt after being diagnosed, and my fight throughout the subsequent treatment. Since that awful day in the summer of 2001 I have been diagnosed a further six times. The book describes four of these hurdles, but I began this blog as I faced my biggest battle yet having just been diagnosed for the sixth time.

Read how I overcame a death sentence, and after receiving a prognosis of just one year at the begining of 2011, am now looking foward to a long, happy and healthy(ish) life!

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http://www.kissfromarose.co.uk/

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Tuesday, 14 June 2011

Drunks, Drug Addicts step forward please. Cancer Patient? Go to the back of the Line....

You know you have a problem when your consultants are at war with one another...
After my disappointing hospital visit on Friday, I saw my general oncology consultant yesterday. Expecting to have another battle on my hands trying to get him to understand my frustration at the transplant team, as soon as I walked through his office door, I embarked on a one woman rant at him. I barked about how disappointed I was with the department, and how angry I was at being kept waiting so long for such an important decision. But he just sat with his head in his hands. I could see he was even more irate at the transplant team than I was, and he immediately picked up his mobile to call the transplant surgeon to find out what was going on. He stepped outside the room for a few moments to make the call, when he returned, the look on his face told me he was now even more infuriated. He looked at me forcing a smile and said "you know when you start dialling a particular person's number and you just know they're not going to pick up?" Christ I thought, if he's not answering to another colleague, what chance have I got when I call to make an appointment??!! I left my Consultant's office yesterday feeling a little calmer. I was relieved that he shared my frustrations, I didn't feel as though I was banging my head against a brick wall so much. We booked some scans, and if they show that the cancer has spread I'll start some chemo. If it hasn't and I still have no answer from the NHS transplant surgeon, I'll pay for a liver, and I'll save myself.

But what gets me the most is the attitude some doctors have, this jovial "no-can-do!" response they have to their patients' needs. I wrote about this in some length in 'Kiss From A Rose'. When I saw the transplant team's representative on Friday he was smirking as he told me he had no idea who I was, or what my case involved. It was as if my life was a joke to him, that it was amusing that I somehow slipped through the net.

The truth is I'm not considered a priority case, no matter how many times the cancer returns in my liver. Although my liver function is so bad to the point that it causes constant itching all over, it's not quite bad enough to be at the top of their 'to do' list. If I was an alcoholic or a drug user, however, it would be a different story. If someone drinks their liver into oblivion, and there is very limited function as a result, they go straight to the top of the transplant list. "But they could drink away the new one!" I hear you say. True, but a surgeon is not allowed to make that assumption, they must have faith that the alcoholic will respect the second chance they have been given. But try telling this to the mother of a six month old baby boy, who has a type of Cancer in his liver. She would be told that a transplant is not the answer, because in this situation they cannot assume that the Cancer won't return elsewhere, or in the new donated organ. As she stands pleading with a surgeon to save the precious new life in her arms, with a donated liver that has just arrived at the hospital, he could be prepping for surgery to give that liver to a 58 year old man - a grown man who has had his life, and spent most of it drinking his own liver away. Where's the justice in that?

And so, my wait continues... with a bottle of rum. Well, if you can't beat 'em......

1 comment:

  1. Hi Natasha!...

    I speak as a man, who is now 53 years old. At the age of 34 I found myself suddenly in hospital, at xmas, with severe bowel cancer. I was told that, even after major surgery, my chances of living another 5 years was only 20-30%. If I, as a total coward in such matters, can beat the odds so can you!..All the very best wishes to you!...keep smiling!

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