A room with a view

Did I make it out? Well yes I did for a weekend. Loaded down with calcium drinks and tablets I went home. My anxiety was now so bad I couldn’t settle. Lily was of course Lily and Mummy just needed to carry on as normal, but I couldn’t. As much as I had wanted to leave the hospital I didn’t feel safe at home. I was so terrified that I would crash again. I felt wobbly and tired and my whole body tingled. I was like a wind up toy, at the top of my tree and home felt completely alien. I felt like a shit Mum, unable to do things with Lily, put her to bed and play, read her stories. I just wanted to hide.

My lovely neighbour drove me to A&E on the Saturday night as I started to panic and my friend’s husband met me there and waited with me whilst I was seen. The people in my life have been incredible but this is the problem with Cancer, you lose your independence and I felt like I had become completely dependent on friends to help us that I felt overwhelmingly guilty. To list the number of people who have helped us right now would just be a never-ending list. People’s kindness and generosity has been incredible, I will be forever grateful to everyone who has helped us and I hope they know I would do the same for them in a heartbeat, but I feel terrible that I have had to ask for that help. Another contributor to my anxiety that was growing each and every day.

I was discharged from A&E with a diagnosis of anxiety due to trauma. The next day was even worse and Phoebe drove me backwards and forwards to hospital for further blood testing before I was admitted again. My calcium was still not stable but neither was I and my anxiety was getting worse. I cried with frustration as I settled back into hospital life, this time on the nicest ward with my room mate Margot. Margot was an elderly lady, I suspect suffering from Alzheimer’s as we had many a confusing conversation. We would sit and stare out at the beautiful view. At night she would pin her hair up and fall asleep with her head hanging forward and her mouth wide open. The Nurse would bring me tea and biscuits before bed and I’d managed to get the TV attached to my bed to work and discovered “The Masked Dancer.” I then downloaded several audiobooks to block out any sounds on the ward and would fall asleep to Stephen Fry or Bill Bryson. 

Each day I had more blood taken and sat with my nerves staring out at the view. I didn’t think I was ever going to get to go home. I would walk up and down the corridors, trying to keep my body moving and just waiting. I had made contact with the Butterfly Thyroid Cancer Trust and Kate the founder was keeping in touch with me. She rang me in the hospital and chatted to me about my fears; throughout all of this Kate was the one person who was able to give me solid information, explain what was happening to my body and told me it was all normal how I had reacted and that I was going to be fine. Speaking to somebody who had been through the exact same thing as me helped so much, I sat in tears listening to her...in some ways I think those tears were relief. She was exactly who I needed to speak to. I finished speaking to her and Margot told me I had been wittering for too long on the phone and couldn’t understand why I was upset. She was sat with a dishcloth clipped to her head and I drew the curtain on her telling her I needed to rest. The consultant dosed me up with Propranolol and I felt the anxiety of the past week slowly fall away for a bit. 

When I woke up the consultant was back, my calcium had risen and she was ready to let me go home. I was nervous but elated and began to throw everything into my bag. The aim was to be home before dinner...I couldn’t stomach another hospital meal. I sat with Margot and we talked about home as I waited for my medication and discharge papers. I was scared, exhausted and nervous to go but I knew I needed to and didn’t want to come back. It was Lily’s birthday on Sunday and all I wanted was to be there and to be Mum again. I just wanted to be me again but I didn’t know if I could. Everything now was so real. I wasn’t sure how I would now cope with my diagnosis and the thought of having to go back into hospital for further treatment. It wasn’t a mini-break as I’d joked before, it was how I imagined prison would be and I was terrified of it.