The day that I had to get the results from the CT / MRI scan from Dr A was possibly the most stressful and nerve wracking day of my life……to date. Kathy was insistent that she was with me and I’m very glad she was. I also asked Mum if she wanted to come and she said yes. I’m not sure if she wanted to be there or felt she should be but I was very glad she was there too. I drove the 3 of us to the Bath clinic and when I parked the car Mum and Kathy naturally jumped out. I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was petrified. I burst into tears and sobbed like a baby, griping the steering wheel as tightly as I could. I was about to be given the results of the scans that could tell me that I have terminal cancer. Dr A was about 60 yards away from me in her office and had a sheet of paper that had my fate on it. It was the most intense thing I have been through. What we were about to be told was black and white. There was no middle ground. The results were either clear in which case we could relax and get back on with plan A of the WLE or the results had flagged something up, in which case the egg timer of my life had been turned over. I had to put a lot of effort into pulling myself together. I took a number of deep breaths, wiped my tears and eventually dragged myself out of the car.

We had to wait a short while to see Dr A during which time I was in a bit of a daze. When she came out of her office she greeted me with the usual warm and caring smile. As soon as I saw her I felt that the news was good. I know it’s a dangerous game to play to try and second guess the results from someone’s simple greeting but I felt that she didn’t look like the kind of person about to deliver a death sentence to someone. She started talking as the 4 of us moved into her office and the first 2 words she said were “I’m sorry”.

Luckily, before I had time to compute what she had said, she finished the sentence with “…..I’m running a little late.” Thank goodness the woman didn’t have a stutter or that could have been another hole punch fiasco!

The news was good. No, the news was bloody fantastic. The scans had come back all clear, with the slight exception that I had a small cyst on my liver or somewhere, or something. I didn’t care. It wasn’t related to the melanoma and everything was good. I dropped my head into my hands and had a little weep. I looked round to smile at Mum and Kathy and they were both trying to hide a few tears as well. A few long hugs later and we all remembered that Dr A was still in the room trying her hardest not to look awkward! We chatted through a few more details of the next stages which was the same as Mr W had mentioned and Dr A advised that my brother and sister should get checked out as melanoma can be a genetic thing. I felt like I floated out of her office, although I was very conscious that the whole thing could have been very different. I’m not a particularly religious person, much to my Mum’s disappointment I’m sure, but I said a little thank you to the heavens as we left the clinic.

The fact that the scans had come back all clear was obviously fantastic news but looking back, it was a little misleading. I sent numerous text messages telling those who were aware of the scans that it was all clear. I was home and hosed. They still had to do the WLE but that was it, happy days. Kathy, Mum and I decided to celebrate with a lunch in Bath and life was good. Unfortunately what we weren’t aware of was that just because the CT / MRI scan had come back clear, it didn’t mean that there was nothing nasty lurking elsewhere. It seems that the scan would have picked up any large collection of melanoma cells but there was still a chance that smaller collections of cells were present in me that had slipped under the radar of the scans. All of this I have found out subsequently but back then ignorance was bliss and Kathy, Mum and I had a celebratory glass of champagne with our lunch and I even hobbled out with my brother and Geoff that evening for a few celebratory beers.