liver biopsy

I'm doing it pretty tough this evening. Anticipating a biopsy tomorrow has me all on edge, in tears, and binge eating through a box of Cadbury Favourites I found in the pantry.

And I knew it would be the anticipation that was the most difficult part. They say that the hardest part is the mental battle with this whole cancer thingo. 

I think 'they' might be right.

And it's a good thing that I'm scoffing so much chocolate because tomorrow morning I will be needing to fast for a full 6 hours. Yes. 6 whole hours without even a skerick of food or water touching these lips.  All this so a rather large needle can be hammered into my liver and navigated while I breathe steadily. It will need to find a tumour to take a sample to test if my cancer has changed its DNA since 2011.

oh dear.

Just typing that out made me queasy. Of course it may also be the rather potent dose of cherry ripe I also indulged in, so I'll give myself the benefit of the doubt and err on that side of things.

I can't believe I have to be awake and aware for this. It's super barbaric. And of course I did ask if maybe I could please, pretty please, have a general because that seems so much nicer to not know at all what's going on, and instead waking up like out of a dream. But it is not possible as I have to hold my breath at certain points and generally co-operate on the whole.

They haven't met me yet.

They may perhaps find themselves wishing they had me fully sedated. I'm just too needle-phobic to be calm about this one.

And today at Tennyson the nurses and I joked about going on a shopping spree to reward myself for undergoing this little procedure. I'm thinking a fabulous pair of shoes may ease my suffering. But jokes aside I'm dead-set sure about why I am doing all this. Going to all this hassle, this emotional distress. I am absolutely single minded in my approach.

It's all for you my babies.

And you never asked me to, and you never would ask me even if you were old enough to, but here it is anyway. I'm doing this for you.

I want Daddy to be able to look you in the eyes and answer you honestly when you ask him 'did Mum do everything she could to live as long as she could'?

And I want him to answer 'yes'. A quick steady answer, with no hesitation, because he remembers days like tomorrow. Days of biopsies, days of tests and injections and blood-work and chemo and IV flushes. Days of procedures.

And the answer is 'yes' my boys. Yes, a thousand times yes. 

I said yes to doing the biopsy tomorrow for you.

Not because you asked or begged me. Not because it was the 'right' thing to do. Not because anyone else told me I should, or bossed me into it.

Just because when I was told that if they tested my liver and the cancer had changed and that meant my treatment plan would change too, then my heart said 'yes' before my brain could say 'no no no'.

I want as many tomorrows with you as I can.

So I guess I'll set my mind to that as I face this 'scary snort'. 

Your faces. 

And that will make it all worth it. Well, that and the shoes.

Keep me safe, O God,

    I’ve run for dear life to you.

I say to God, “Be my Lord!”

    Without you, nothing makes sense.

Psalm 16.