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Authors: Anne Stormont
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I’m either ancient or at work – I’m a teacher. And, yes, I’m feeling much better thanks.”
“Rosie it is then. I’m Angus. I don’t like to presume and go straight to first names. Some patients prefer to keep it formal – although it does tend to be the older generation. And that’s fine. I want my patients to feel comfortable.” He let go of my wrist. “I’ll just take your blood pressure, if I may.”
I nodded.
“Teacher, eh?” he continued as he removed the pressure cuff. “I couldn’t do your job. I wouldn’t have the patience. I couldn’t put up with the backchat and the cheek.”
“Oh, I have the little ones. They’re only seven. They can try your patience, I agree, but it’s a good job and can be very rewarding.” I realised I was smiling and feeling much better. Angus Campbell was a skilled practitioner.
“Seven year olds! Even more scary!” He laughed. “ Right , you’ll do, pulse and blood pressure are fine,” he said. “Now sit up slowly and, when you’re ready, come back over and sit down.”
Once I was back sitting in the chair he asked, “Anything you want to know or has Wendy done her usual efficient job? I take it we can call her Wendy – don’t want her to feel left out.” He winked at his colleague.
“You said you’d take some tissue during the operation. Did you mean - does that mean that - that you’ll - that I’ll..?
“Lose your breast?” His voice was very gentle. I nodded. “I could do a lumpectomy, which is only to remove the lump. But I may decide, once I see what’s what, to take a bit more than that – and yes, possibly, the whole breast. I will ask you to give consent for the entire visible tumour and as much surrounding tissue as is advisable, to be removed at that operation, because that’s how I prefer to do it. However it’s up to you to make an informed decision. Read the leaflets Wendy’s given you and do ask any further questions as they arise.”
I nodded again. “You said I’d need chemotherapy. Does that mean it’s really bad and if it is –well - is it worth having chemo? It’s just my mother had chemo for her breast cancer and it was awful. It made her so ill and she died anyway.”
“Rosie, I can’t make promises. I don’t know the full extent of your disease, but yes chemo is well worth it. I’m sorry your mother had cancer too, but you’re not your mother. Every cancer’s different and it’s not over till it’s over, okay?” He touched my hand again. I nodded. “Talk it over with your husband or someone else close. Let all this sink in. I’ll be in touch soon to arrange admission – it could be as soon as next week. And you can be signed off work whenever you want to start your sick leave. I’ll be in touch with your GP shortly, so it’s just a case of letting him or her know.” He stood up. “We’ll get this thing sorted. Don’t worry.”
I stood up too. “I’ll try not to. Thank you.”
“And you must rest assured that this is all confidential. I know Tom’s a doctor – one of the club – but he’ll only hear about any of this, if and when you decide to tell him. However, I do urge you to tell someone amongst your nearest and dearest. You will need support. Goodbye for now.” He held out his hand. I shook it. I added ‘perceptive’ to the list of Angus Campbell’s good qualities.
Chapter Nine
I don’t really remember the drive home. I know I didn’t let myself think about the diagnosis. The car radio hummed its tunes and the roads went by in a blur. All I wanted was a soak in a hot bath and then to sleep and sleep.
The kitchen was strewn with dirty dishes. Sam, Adam and Jenny had obviously had breakfast and lunch. Cereal packets stood open on the worktop and bread and assorted spreads lay abandoned on the table. The washing machine hadn’t been emptied. The kitchen bin was overflowing, and Toby had obviously been taken out for a walk recently, judging by the damp, sandy, paw
“Rosie it is then. I’m Angus. I don’t like to presume and go straight to first names. Some patients prefer to keep it formal – although it does tend to be the older generation. And that’s fine. I want my patients to feel comfortable.” He let go of my wrist. “I’ll just take your blood pressure, if I may.”
I nodded.
“Teacher, eh?” he continued as he removed the pressure cuff. “I couldn’t do your job. I wouldn’t have the patience. I couldn’t put up with the backchat and the cheek.”
“Oh, I have the little ones. They’re only seven. They can try your patience, I agree, but it’s a good job and can be very rewarding.” I realised I was smiling and feeling much better. Angus Campbell was a skilled practitioner.
“Seven year olds! Even more scary!” He laughed. “ Right , you’ll do, pulse and blood pressure are fine,” he said. “Now sit up slowly and, when you’re ready, come back over and sit down.”
Once I was back sitting in the chair he asked, “Anything you want to know or has Wendy done her usual efficient job? I take it we can call her Wendy – don’t want her to feel left out.” He winked at his colleague.
“You said you’d take some tissue during the operation. Did you mean - does that mean that - that you’ll - that I’ll..?
“Lose your breast?” His voice was very gentle. I nodded. “I could do a lumpectomy, which is only to remove the lump. But I may decide, once I see what’s what, to take a bit more than that – and yes, possibly, the whole breast. I will ask you to give consent for the entire visible tumour and as much surrounding tissue as is advisable, to be removed at that operation, because that’s how I prefer to do it. However it’s up to you to make an informed decision. Read the leaflets Wendy’s given you and do ask any further questions as they arise.”
I nodded again. “You said I’d need chemotherapy. Does that mean it’s really bad and if it is –well - is it worth having chemo? It’s just my mother had chemo for her breast cancer and it was awful. It made her so ill and she died anyway.”
“Rosie, I can’t make promises. I don’t know the full extent of your disease, but yes chemo is well worth it. I’m sorry your mother had cancer too, but you’re not your mother. Every cancer’s different and it’s not over till it’s over, okay?” He touched my hand again. I nodded. “Talk it over with your husband or someone else close. Let all this sink in. I’ll be in touch soon to arrange admission – it could be as soon as next week. And you can be signed off work whenever you want to start your sick leave. I’ll be in touch with your GP shortly, so it’s just a case of letting him or her know.” He stood up. “We’ll get this thing sorted. Don’t worry.”
I stood up too. “I’ll try not to. Thank you.”
“And you must rest assured that this is all confidential. I know Tom’s a doctor – one of the club – but he’ll only hear about any of this, if and when you decide to tell him. However, I do urge you to tell someone amongst your nearest and dearest. You will need support. Goodbye for now.” He held out his hand. I shook it. I added ‘perceptive’ to the list of Angus Campbell’s good qualities.
Chapter Nine
I don’t really remember the drive home. I know I didn’t let myself think about the diagnosis. The car radio hummed its tunes and the roads went by in a blur. All I wanted was a soak in a hot bath and then to sleep and sleep.
The kitchen was strewn with dirty dishes. Sam, Adam and Jenny had obviously had breakfast and lunch. Cereal packets stood open on the worktop and bread and assorted spreads lay abandoned on the table. The washing machine hadn’t been emptied. The kitchen bin was overflowing, and Toby had obviously been taken out for a walk recently, judging by the damp, sandy, paw
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