Murphy’s Law.

You know the saying, ‘What can go wrong, will go wrong’?

Well…

Let’s start at the beginning. Last time I checked in, I was prepping for a small surgery. Well, that went without a hitch. Honestly, the worst bit was all the hanging around before hand (I arrived at hospital at 8:30am and was operated on just after 4pm😴). I had a radioactive injection (!) and then sat in the day patient waiting room, until I was called in to get changed. I donned my glamorous gown and a very fetching pair of bottle green compression stockings, before being walked to theatre. I lay on the trolley, had a cannula inserted into my hand and took some deep breaths. 

Then I woke up. All done and feeling nice and fuzzy. I’ve never been so relieved! I took a few days to get back to normal, as the anaesthetic really kicked my ass in terms of tired/wibbly-ness, but now I just have a small incision under my armpit. I took the weekend to recover and geared up for appointment with my surgeon on Monday morning.

Which is where Murphy’s Law kicked in.

I arrived at The Christie with my hubby and we were seated in a little room to wait. I was already pretty anxious, after all, this would be the last time I’d get to chat with the surgeon before the actual op, so the fact that hubs decided it was a good idea to have a rummage in the supply trolley didn’t really help… Anyway! We waited for a little bit and when the surgeon arrived he had bad news.

He wasn’t allowed to do the operation and, to be completely fair to him, he was not happy about it.

I still don’t know how I felt at that moment. I nodded and asked questions – hubby was pretty mad. Essentially, it boiled down to politics between hospitals. Two surgeons would be working on me on the day, one undertaking the mastectomy and the other performing the reconstruction. They come from different trusts but have worked together in the past, so there never seemed to be an issue. This time, however, only one hospital would be paid for the procedure-and it wouldn’t be The Christie.

So they cancelled my surgery.

I think I’ve been through the full range of emotions since then. I’ve been so angry I could have set several small fires (erm, not really for any law enforcement people reading), I’ve cried, I’ve had the ‘Why is this happening to me’ rant. I just couldn’t believe that a hospital that prides itself on its excellent standards of care, would cancel something that I have now found out is classed as an emergency operation. Emergency. As in, life saving. As in, if you don’t get this shit out of me ASAP I’m going to be a very poorly person. I kept thinking, if this was a book, or a movie, I’d find out the name of the person who wouldn’t sign for my surgery and I’d go round to their house. I’d show them that I’m a good person, that I deserve to have this surgery and they’d be won over by my passion and my sassy attitude. Then they’d sign the paperwork with a pen I just happened to have handy.

Unfortunately, real life doesn’t work like that.

So, what now? Well, I’m glad to say that my consultant is the most organised man ever. By Tuesday morning, he had me booked in with another surgeon at another hospital, which I’m delighted to say is one of the best in this field. They have women from all over the UK there for this kind of surgery 3 or 4 times a week. When I got the call, though, I cried after. The surgery is a day earlier than planned, which I now know is amazing, and they have gone above and beyond to accommodate me, but I initially felt like I was losing a day of normalcy. It’s scary to think that my body won’t be my own for a while and I hate the thought of being so dependant on people, but I’m so grateful to those who I know I can depend on. The thought that some people go through this with little or no support breaks my heart, and I know how fortunate I am. Unfortunately for them, I also know how stubborn I am, so apologies for being a nightmare in advance!!!

So, Murphy’s Law…what can go wrong, will go wrong.

But I’d like to make an amendment to it; Cynthia Murphy’s Law. What can go wrong, will go wrong…but there will ALWAYS be a solution. Otherwise know as Serendipity; Finding something more suited to your needs without looking for it.

I met my new surgeon this morning and he was brilliant. He even has the same surname as my brother and sister-in-law, so that has to be a good sign! I feel more confident about this surgery than I ever have and that, in itself, is a blessing. All of those prayers and positive energies are doing their thing, so keep them coming for Tuesday please!

I have some lovely plans for my last pre-op weekend and fully intend to enjoy it, I hope you all do too and thanks for reading…

Cyn x