It was now just a couple of days until my scan results. I think by that point I had fully braced myself that the likelihood of this being cancer was more likely thatn not. This was hard. If I was right, and this was cancer  that could mean chemo, and that was something I wasn’t sure I was willing to do again. 

My mind was whizzing back and forth, re-living what those years were and what would it be like a second time round. All of that pain, sickness, trauma, it was so hard. Hard on me, and my family. These things truly never just impact one person. 

That journey began many years ago in 2012. I was 15, just started year 10 and my GCSEs and talking to my mum about college plans. I had wanted to be an RSPCA inspector for a long while now, and planned to study animal management at college in order to  reach the goal. At that time, my biggest concern was getting my Maths GCSE! That was never going to be easy. As an incentive, mum promised if I got it, and got into college she would get me a dog, I would be allowed  to take it to college with me, and on the walk to the school bus, those first few weeks of school I was thinking how cool it would be, that in just two short years I would be doing this walk with my own little pooch! What name would I choose? What breed? I thought of all the tricks I would teach it, all the cute toys I would buy. Picturing what my life would be. L

All that was to change after one routine opticians appointment. I had worn glasses since I was about eight or nine, my prescription was not strong at all. But I was just required to wear them for reading and to see the board at school. To be honest I didn’t wear them much. Id still always go for the check ups and it was at one of these check ups that I noticed the sight in my left eye was particularly  poor, described by the optician  as “counting fingers” concerned, she made a referral to our local eye hospital. I certainly didn’t think much of this at all and even when that appointment  came around I still didn’t understand the significance of it and what impact it would have on the rest of my life. 

My mum and I went to that appointment at the eye hospital, I had never, in memory at least been to hospital. I met with lots of lovely nurses and a lovely doctor who after some tests, told me that she was going to send me over for a scan at the main hospital, but that woudlnt be until a little later on in the day. At that pint I just thought it was amazing and was just pleased I could have the day off school. I mean, I was 15 how could I know how significant that would be?

Me and mum had some time to kill and so we went into town that day, I needed a new winter coat and we found one, I had a look round a few of my favourite  shops and then went for lunch with my mum. It felt quite special at that point, a day out just me and mum, it was nice. 

It was soon enough the time to go to have the scan, it was all a bit surreal, I don’t rally remember much of that first scan, other than, the headphones they gave me were playing Michael Buble Christmas music, that certainly didn’t impress little emo me! It was after that scan that my whole world was turned upside down.  That everything me and my family knew changed. I was diagnosed with NF1, and told that had resulted in my developing an ONG. The next two years were not full of GCSEs, college applications and a dog, instead it was an 85 week course of chemotherapy, losing my hair, eyesight and much of my teenage years. I was so very poorly and spent an awful lot of time in hospital. Medical settings, chemo and everything  associated with my illness and sight loss was incredibly traumatic and had a profound effect on me, I was traumatised. The tought of that again, for any length of time, terrified me. 

There was so little information to be found though, and what I could find painted a very grim picture indeed. statistics, were they to be believed were certainly not in my favour. I tried to not jump to any conclusions before meeting with the doctor. My next job was to also prepare my mum and partner for the appointment, I knew they too should go in armed with the expectation that this would be a cancer diagnosis. They needed to be prepared. I didn’t want the news to shock them. So as best as I could over that week I slowly and gently tried to drip feed the possibility but emotionally I was lacking all resilience and the fear was overwhelming to me too, and so I did air my fear rather frankly the day before the appointment. I’m not sure that anything really could have prepared us for what was to come.