The return of the waffle

As I sit in the sunshine with my feet dangling in the pool, I could not be more relaxed. Rewind to just a week ago and the picture was completely different. (Only) two years ago, I was preparing for a pitch I was going to be delivering the following morning, and presented it to some students who were with us on work experience. As documented in an earlier blog, my words became jumbled and I started to experience what can only be described as extremely odd visual disturbances.

I had the sensation of honey pouring from my eyes and a golden waffle floating just within my line of sight. Having been a long-term migraine sufferer, this wasn't cause for concern and I completed my day and drove home. It was only at Dean's insistence that we went to the out-of-hours GP where I was referred as a matter of urgency to A&E, and after the discovery of a sizeable malignant tumour, the rest as they say, is (uncomfortable) history.

So, fast forward to last week and after a sustained period of feeling off and headachy, I tried to rest. Then, BAM! There it was, that ominous golden waffle. A harbinger of impending waffly doom. As I always endeavour to practice what I preach, I knew that I shouldn't ignore it. Cue another trip to the Emergency GP (who was, as previously) extremely thorough and we hot-footed it to A&E on her instruction.

Arriving at midnight we were advised that there was an eight hour wait. I half slept, sitting bolt upright on seats not intended for that purpose, and Dean activated the 'prayer chain' at my church, who sprang into action. I stayed calm, although deeply worried about telling my Dad. Having lost my sister and in the last twelve months, my Mum, this was terrifying for him.

A CT scan, an MRI (I was scheduled for one in six weeks anyway) and a quick chat between the A&E doctor and my (brilliant) neuro-surgeon and the results were out. NO CHANGE! The cloud was lifted and I felt a flood of emotion; relief, renewed hope and an overwhelming sense of gratitude to God.

I am conscious that for many cancer sufferers, I am in a completely enviable position, and I feel for all of them as I write. However, it is imperative to be conscious of bodily changes. You might feel like the girl who cried wolf, but the wolverine threat is ever-present for the cancer sufferer (or survivor in remission). Don't ignore its call.

Amanda

Disclaimer: Not the actual waffle