Stage four a true story

Stage four

I am watching the second hand as it moves around the clock face, each word takes about half a second to say and there is so much wastage, yet there are a few occasions where words that only use up a few seconds change everything. My name is Fiona, I am a mother, wife, sister, daughter, niece, friend, cousin, colleague and hobby artist. This true story begins seven years ago.

It's Monday morning and I am dialing the number for work, feeling anxious about calling in sick again as over the last six months I had taken so much time off for multiple surgeries and Mondays are our busiest day of the week, they were going to be annoyed with me. I explained about the minor car accident the day before and that the pain was still very intense and I needed to see a doctor as soon as possible and would be in later today.

The doctor was new and felt around the area where the pain was and looked at me and said that's a tumor, he contacted the gynecologist Ms R who had three months earlier given me the 'all clear' after several surgeries for stage one ovarian cancer. An MRI scan was arranged for Thursday. With all my sick days used up some time ago I went into work on Friday while waiting for the results. I do not remember if it was the Friday or the following Monday when I got the call, I do remember it was during the morning while I was at my desk and the words Ms R used. She said that I had advanced stage four cancer and needed to seek immediate medical attention. I asked Ms R. who should I call and her reply was that this was for me to sort out as the cancer origin was not ovarian and she thought it was melanoma and Ms R ended the call. I was in a state of shock, my team leader looked over and saw the tears streaming down my face and quickly arranged for a spare desk so I could make some calls in private. My mind was floating in a cloudy maze searching for directions, what to do and who to call next. My team leader bought me a cup of tea, biscuits, tissues, pen and paper and listened as I told her what had just happened, thanks A.

Fortunately the first call I made was to the skin clinic I had been going to and after explaining what had just happened I asked who they recommended I call. Mr M. was away on holiday and his nurse said she would call me back soon. My phone rang not long after and it was Mr M. he was going to help guide me through what the next steps needed to be and kindly explained that an MRI cannot tell what type of cancer this was, that a biopsy is needed to identify what this is and from there how to best treat it, he would make some calls and call me back in about an hour, and he did. After talking with Mr M. I could feel a sense of relief washing over me and the fog was clearing, I had a map to escape this maize and actions to take that would lead somewhere, I will always be grateful for this help. Another ten or so minutes passed and my phone rang again, this time it was Ms R. advising me a biopsy was scheduled for Wednesday and an appointment with an oncologist at the hospital was being arranged, we never spoke again.

I went home and told my family the news. Returning to work in between appointments I convinced myself that I would start treatment soon and would be able to manage to keep working while getting better. Ten days later I met with two Hospital oncologists, they were seated across a table from me. One of them said I had stage four metastatic scc cancer of unknown origin and they did not have any treatment at the public hospital they could offer me, that treatment intent is palliative. The cloudy maize returned only this time I was drowning in a thickening fog of fear. I asked how long do I have, is it five years? they shook their heads, I counted down and with each successive question the pitch of my voice got higher, four years? Three years? Two years? When I asked if I had one year left it sounded more like a high pitched squeak. Their reply was less than one year.

At this point in time there were ten tumors in various locations, biopsy results showed that this was most likely cervical in origin. More helpful advice came from an uncle who recommended I make appointments with a number of different oncologists and discuss what new treatments are available elsewhere.