Sometimes it seems to me that it all just goes from bad to worse and then to worser.
And worserer even.
Back in May I came down with CMV and had all sorts of problems with high blood pressure and all. My lovely GP sent me off for an ultrasound of my heart to make sure everything was OK.
(Eighteen years ago my Mum had a cardiac myxoma. If you aren't ready to put yourself to sleep reading that medical journal simply they are like ganglions - which grow on nerve tissue (people get them on their wrists and the old remedy was to thump 'em with the old family bible), myxomas are similar but grow on muscle tissue).
It is pretty unusual to have them growing in a heart, even more unusual to find it before post-mortem stage. Mum is fine now, though had 4 or 5 hours of surgery to remove it. The point is they are familial, so every year around my birthday I have an ultrasound to make sure I am still myxoma-less. The rest of my sibs are supposed to also (but I don't think they bother - just waiting to see if I get one before they do. After all, I am the eldest and the one who sets the example...!!!)
And I just kept feeling crappy and even more crappy, but figured my GP would have rung me if anything was wrong with my heart.
To be honest I was to stuffed to even care - just slept a lot, and felt very sick.
Last week I finally thought how much nicer it would be to be dead and free of pain. And that gave me such a big fright so I raced (ha!) in to see her.
And she pulled up my file and swore profoundly and profusely.
Apparently, the cardiologist had found that although my heart was fine my liver was not.
AND THE CARDIOLOGIST HAD TAKEN OVER TWO MONTHS TO SEND THE REPORT TO MY GP!!!!!!!
Yep, am yelling.
Back in June they could see a mass in my liver that was 10 centimetres in diameter. I said "Oh lovely - two seam allowances" and she just got her tape measure to show me just how big 10 cm really is. It is almost 4"...
Whizzed up to Bendigo for a CT scan with lovely radioactive dye in my belly (a litre of urky stuff to drink beforehand, burp) and another shot in my veins.
And now the mass is 13cm (5")...It is right at the top of the left lobe of my liver, sitting inside my chest cavity and elbowing my right lung for space. It is like a balloon.
I have lately been feeling crappy about my expanding midriff, thinking that middle-aged spread was suddenly being cruel and harsh. And it is not menopausal tubbiness but some ghastly alien.
The good news is that it is all nicely enclosed, "just a cyst", and without a blood supply etc so it is mostly a good sort of alien if I was ever going to choose what sort I wanted...
On Monday my lovely GP rang the surgical registrar at the Royal Melbourne Hospital and got to have a long chat to a liver surgeon who wants to see me in the next couple of weeks.
One week of which has already passed.
I am Category 1, which is the urgent end of the waiting list queue, and should be fixed up soon.
When I rang the hospital on Wednesday (as she said for me to do) I was told they had not received the referral she had faxed on Monday, and didn't know about me. So she faxed it again.
Rang again yesterday and they told me the same thing, and also said even if it had been faxed it wouldn't have been read and I wouldn't have an appointment either. To which I said "How do you know, you haven't even asked for my name", and the woman then managed to find that indeed I was on their computer.
But still no appointment time...
I have to 'wait for a letter;.
And she (my GP) has gone on holiday for two weeks (though she did give me her private mobile number which was very sweet of her). And also getting her practice manager to kick the arse of the cardiologist till his nose bleeds...
And in the interim I still feel like crap, and am so tired, and want to throw up cos my belly is so squashed by this great balloon sitting under my ribs.
And so thirsty - drinking buckets of water, and tea every day. And night.
But not very hungry. And not sewing cos it is uncomfortable to sit for long (how lucky are you now, eh?) nor knitting.
Sleeping lots. With those two funny Jack Russell-ish dogs on the bed, and sometimes almost on the pillows either side of me and watching me. Probably wondering how they are going to get the fridge open to feed themselves if I don't wake up...
And that is why you haven't heard from me for ages and ages. Hopefully, you will hear soon enough what is going on.