Six weeks to the day post surgery. Wow. It feels surreal. This was to be a big week full of appointments, but most importantly the appointment where I would be offered Mitotane, as I write this it is the day before meeting with the doctor, and at this point still I am undecided if it is a path I want to take.

Two years is such a long time, and I’ve already done two years of chemo. There is so much to consider, will be side effects, potentially it wont work, there is a chance I may be allergic to it, I’m allergic to so many medications already. What then? My mind just couldn’t switch off, I was feeling so many feelings its hard to quantify exactly what. I would start one thought and then my own thoughts would interrupt the previous thought.

That was not the only appointment that was taking place that week in London. I had three in fact. While they were all in London they were not all at the same hospital. So, a week in London hopping between Premier Inns it was.

The other appointments were an adrenal function test, and a PET scan.

The adrenal function test was making me a little nervous because I had to forgo taking my Hydrocortisone  before. Obviously this isn’t dangerous otherwise they wouldn’t say to do it. But the fear of an adrenal crisis has just loomed over me  every day just there, in the background. I’ve got my emergency medication kit but I have no idea what would make me need to use it, and how do I know if I am having an adrenal crisis?

The  PET scan needs to happen to compare later on without the cancer in the scan. To be honest though the scan is the least of my worries I may have only done one before but its easy. Especially considering all the stress that the first two appointments are causing me. The plan had been to travel, the three of us, myself, my partner and my mum. Alas, that was clearly not meant to be, my poor mum who had planned to travel up to us the day before the appointment encountered so many train problems caused by a combination of strikes and floods, so she didn’t end up at ours the day before as planned but somehow managed to make her way to London and planned to meet us at the hospital the morning of the appointment.

Again, as I write this the train drama just added to the thoughts that spun around my mind. All I needed was for something to go right, its felt so hopeless, like nothing so far has really gone right and I needed my mum there with me for this appointment. So the night before decision day was spent hoping, desperately that his one thing would please work out.