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Back in March 2020, Chris came home early from work. He had felt unwell the night before but couldn’t really put his finger on what was wrong. He’d run a long way, had a beer with his tea and then started feeling a bit iffy when he was playing Playstation while I was in bed. He came to bed, woke up the next morning and still didn’t feel quite right, but there was a pandemic happening. He was running a GP’s surgery. He had staff and patients to take care of and didn’t feel unwell enough to skip out on them.
Fast forward a few hours and he had gone from feeling a bit unusual to really unwell. He couldn’t focus, had nausea and he had pain in his stomach like nothing he had ever felt before. He came home and fell into bed.
I always say I’m empathetic to a fault. But when Chris is ill, for some reason, my empathy runs a bit short. I make sure he’s OK - I take him water if he’s vomiting, I make sure he has cold and flu relief if he needs it, but I always seem to downplay his illnesses. And so when he came home that day, I was only mildly concerned. I thought he might have wind. We’d just watched an episode of The Big Bang Theory where Sheldon had enjoyed Cruciferous Vegetable Day and had chronic pain that resulted in an enormous fart, so I suggested Chris adopt child’s pose and see if he could let rip to deal with the pain he was in. Because yoga makes everything better, right?
But as an hour or so passed and I had to help him do some urgent work stuff because he was incapable of doing it himself, we realised we were in a situation that was perhaps more serious than just trapped wind. Whatever was going on, we couldn’t blame it on the long run, the beer or the rainbow chard we’d had for tea last night. So, I put him in a taxi and sent him off to Lewisham A&E alone, as Covid protocols dictated. A couple of hours later, they confirmed he had appendicitis.
So when, a fortnight ago, I found myself in bed with crippling stomach pain that meant I couldn’t concentrate on anything, you’d think I might have suspected appendicitis. You’d think that I might not have waited 14 hours to go to A&E. You’d think that I might have believed Chris when he said to me “babes, it really sounds like your appendix” but I shook my head. Surely not. Surely we couldn’t both have appendicitis less than three years apart? I didn’t even have any rainbow chard last night.
Alas, after a trip to the GP, a referral to A&E, one doctor telling me it was “textbook appendicitis”, a surgeon sending me away for the night “just in case it was something gynae related” and then an ultrasound very much confirming it was appendicitis the next day, I had my very inflamed appendix taken out in an emergency surgery a couple of weeks ago.
And it’s been a process. Finding myself a patient again after so long has been harder than I expected it to be. Exactly one week before I had my surgery, I had said to my therapist that I’m fairly sure I have PTSD from all of the surgery I had to have as part of my cancer experience. I have one vivid memory of going in for the first of my reconstruction surgeries and thinking to myself that I didn’t want to be operated on, that I didn’t want to begin the process of rebuilding my breast. And when I woke up, I remember crying and saying to the nurse I didn’t want the surgery and she told me it was already done. Exactly ONE WEEK before I had my appendix out, I said to my therapist that if I had to have surgery again, I thought I would struggle a lot. But I guess it hits differently when it’s emergency surgery. Less time to think about it.
The doctor told me not to do any heavy lifting but unexpectedly being a patient again reminded me just how heavy the emotional baggage of a cancer diagnosis in your 20s is. Because I’ve worked really hard on telling myself I’m strong and resillient and my body is mine over the last seven years but then a pointless organ wanted to remind me that isn’t always the case and I’m vulnerable too. Those things can stand side by side. But I guess my silly appendix was just a reminder that I’m not invincible to things that aren’t cancer. I live with the cancer mountain lion in the fridge, always sort of expecting it to appear in my life again, but anything else? Any other illness? No. Not me. I’ve done the hard thing. I get to be healthy now.
And recovering, slowing down, remembering what it’s like to feel pain from surgery has been humbling, for want of a better word. And, this word is thrown around a lot, but it’s been triggering too. It’s made me feel a bit sick with the memories of carrying drains of my bodily fluid around with me after my mastectomy. Moving slowly, holding my belly in the supermarket if I’ve made it there has brought memories of weeks adopting a particular position of my arm up, hand to my shoulder to protect my breast, flooding back. The refrain of “mind my belly” or “gently” has reminded me of times gone by when “mind my thighs” was common parlance in our house after lipografting surgery for my reconstruction. It all stings. It all burns.
I have been moving so fast recently. Working so hard and lifting weights above my head and feeling so strong and so bold and my body had made me stop again. It’s so much less dramatic than last time in many ways but it feels like a harder, shorter stop in others.
Is this my body’s version of a seven year itch? A reminder not to take my health for granted? I didn’t need it. This all comes with a bounteous gratitude this was just my appendix, not cancer returning to make its mark on me again. A friend saw Chris was at Lewisham hospital and rang him to see if he was OK. She, too, was relieved to hear it was just my appendix. It hangs over us all in a way.
I’m coming out of the recovery stage. I’m feeling more like myself again and I’m wearing hard trousers as I write this. Sitting up straight isn’t my favourite thing, nor is moving at speed. I’m not allowed to lift weights for two months and when I do, I have to wear a belt. I will be channelling Miss Trunchbull when I do and very much looking like I have all the gear and no idea.
And I guess it’s all learning isn’t it? It’s all learning that there are still parts of cancer I haven’t figured out, even though I spend a lot of time exploring it. There are still things that might trip me up. And I’m not invincible. OBVIOUSLY. Obviously I’m not. And I know that. I think I just tried to convince myself as a self-preservation method, you know?
I also learned that your appendix is left over from when we used to eat a lot of grass. Some studies suggest that as ancient humans were predominantly herbivorous, they used their appendixes for digestion. However, as humans evolved, they started to include more easily digestible food in their diet and the appendix eventually lost it function. There are scientists who believe that in time the appendix will eventually disappear from the human body.
All I know is the appendix has disappeared from my body and I’ve got three more scars and another great story to tell. It wasn’t pretty but we got there in the end. Maybe if the appendix aids digestion, its inflammation is all to do with the rainbow chard after all? Who knows. Chris doesn’t trust it now anyway so we haven’t eaten it since March 2020.
Reading: My attention span has been a bit lax over my recovery period, but I managed to read Cleopatra and Frankenstein by Coco Mellors. It seems like everyone is talking about it and for good reason. Coco Mellors has been compared to Sally Rooney and I can see why. She paints complex and realistic characters that dive off the page and I was captivated from the very start. Cleopatra and Frankenstein tells the story of the young and volatile Cleo and Frank who is older but equally capricious. They’re thrown together on New Year’s Eve and quickly get married. It’s set in NYC and host to a cast of equally electric characters. I could have read more and more and more of it. I really enjoyed it.
Listening to: Room 5. A podcast about medical mysteries presented by Helena Merriman. A really beautiful piece of storytelling - a deep dive into what it is to get a diagnosis which changes everything. Hard recommend.
Working on: Being the best sleeper I can be. Achieving this very well.
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So sorry you had to go through all of that with your appendix - I hope you have a speedy recovery and totally back to yourself very soon. Sending lots of love xx