Skip to main content

Beyond The Comfort Zone


Our roller coaster year continues, hence the radio silence. Last week saw me back at hospital for what I hoped would be the final appointment for what’s euphemistically known as Women’s Troubles… though I daresay there have been moments when Tom might feel that this Woman’s Troubles have resulted in a few Man’s Troubles too. Tom and I are ushered into a small room with a male consultant and his male colleague leaving me feeling slightly outnumbered. The consultant introduces himself. His name is so wildly inappropriate for a gynae that I have to suppress giggles. We engage in a little ‘why we are here’ session and he asks how my libido is, explaining, in a low voice, ‘your sex drive’ just to make it clear, I suppose, that he’s not asking about the welfare of a small pet. ‘Fine,’ I assure him, resisting the urge to add, ‘how’s yours?’

The next step is a small procedure. ‘We’ll do another biopsy whilst we’re there,’ he says, momentarily rattling my composure. Another? Will there be any of me left? Ah well, it’s good to know that I’m being checked and double-checked. Having learned the drill now, I remember, once I’ve donned my hospital gown and fetching plastic bootees, to exit the theatre side of the changing room not, as last time, back to the consulting room which caused the theatre staff to think I’d done a runner (in a backless gown!).

I’m greeted by the Professional Hand Holder (you know it’s going to be bad when the NHS provides someone to hold your hand) who was so lovely to me last time only this time she’s down the business end with the consultant and his colleague so I have new and equally lovely Hand Holder. After several eye-watering minutes , and a few disconcerting moments when the consultant’s head pops up from my nether regions to give me a progress report, it’s all done and I hope very much that’s the last of it. I do have to say that throughout, I’m treated with great kindness and care and I’m truly grateful for all the staff involved for looking after me.

‘I don’t suppose you’d be interested in writing a piece for me?’ asks a dear, supportive friend in happier news. I readily agree since the piece is a lovely feature for a glossy supplement and I’ll be paid real money! I really enjoy feature writing, more so than fiction at times, especially after the heartache that comes after devoting blood, sweat and 90,000 words to a favourite novel (step forward Follow A Star) for it to be largely ignored. Discounting, that is, the dear lady who bothered to leave a ‘meh’ review on the same day the world was reeling from the Paris attacks. Who does that? Anyway, back to the feature, nothing not to love, although a little daunting because the deadline’s quite tight and it involves chasing people (very nicely!) for information. After a couple of sleepless nights turning it over, I deliver my copy in time and to everyone’s satisfaction - all of which considerably lifts my spirits. Not to mention, my bank account. Hurray!

Comments

Kathryn Freeman said…
Ah Chris - so lovely to see your sense of humour still in tact despite everything being thrown at you. And I know what you mean about writing fiction - during the lows I'm always glad for some paid medical writing to make me feel valued again. Take care my dear xxx
Frances said…
Beynond the comfort zone, indeed. Chris, I do hope that recent procedure will do what was intended, and that you will now have a whole bunch of happy seasonal days. Grand to have gotten that non-fiction commssion, too!

I imagine that every woman reading this post could identify with the scene you described, and then have a giggle at your relating your "escape route" on a previous occasion.

xo to you and yours.
Evonne Wareham said…
I loved Follow a star - as you already know. Glad to hear there is likely to be money in the bank. And in time for Xmas?
mountainear said…
What everyone has said above - can only add best wishes and hopes for good news.
Chris Stovell said…
Ah, Kate, you're very kind, thank you. And yes, very nice to feel valued! Cx

Frances, I did feel silly but no one told me that the other door lead to the theatre and I was afraid of walking in on someone else's consultation so I just stood there for a while feeling daft until they sent out a search party!

And what a boost that gave me Evonne, I very much appreciated the lovely feedback. Yes, fingers crossed in time for Christmas... I hope so since it's already been spent on Christmas!

Thanks so much Felicity. I'm sure I'm fine but I'll be glad when they stop cutting bits out of me!
Clare Chase said…
So sorry you’ve been going through the mill, Chris. Your descriptions made me laugh, and I thought just the same as Kate re your impressive retention of a sense of humour! Congratulations on the commission! xx
Hopefully everything will turn out alright Chris. It is always awkward when they ask you "impolite" questions and your instinct is to always respond by saying, "Fine, and you?".

I'm glad to hear you've got an influx of funds with this work. It'll come in handy!

Sending you love and best wishes,

Chanpreet
Flowerpot said…
Glad you got through the gynae ordeal OK Chris - can well sympathise and hope everything's OK. As for the feature - when's it going to be in where?! Would love to read it X
Chris Stovell said…
Awkward sums it up, Chanpreet! And the funds are very welcome... or will be when I get paid! Thank you so much for the love and best wishes. And the same to you! cx

Horrid, isn't it, Sue? Will be pleased not to have to don the hospital gown again any time soon. Hopefully Feb with the feature but will let you know. Cx

Popular posts from this blog

Happy Endings, New Beginnings

Blended families come with conflicting loyalties and at Christmas time nearly everyone has somewhere else they feel they ought to be. Throw partners into the equation and it gets even more complicated. Since Tom and I aren’t especially hung up about Christmas we’re happy to let our children go with the strongest flow, but I have to say it was a great delight to have the girls and their partners staying with us this year. When such moments are few and far between they become very precious. My stepsons weren’t far from our thoughts either, not least because we had the very happy news on Christmas Day that my elder stepson and his girlfriend had become engaged. Congratulations Dan and Gill, here’s wishing you every happiness together. Tom and I end a year that has seen the fruition of many years work, both of us crossing important thresholds within weeks of each other. I’m really looking forwards to seeing Turning the Tide published next year and it’s been so satisfying, after al

Reconnecting

I hadn't realised it until now , but it’s probably no coincidence that my last post was about our trip to Norwich, a city I’ve loved since studying at UEA. I wrote, then, that coming home was a hard landing, a feeling that took me completely by surprise as it’s been such a privilege to live in this beautiful, remote spot on the very edge of the west Wales coast. A trip to Skye at the end of October - Tom’s choice - with Ma, was a truly lovely holiday. The weather was kind, the colours of those breathtaking seascapes will stay with me, as will all the happy memories we made that week. And, because our small cottage had been so beautifully modernised and worked so well for the three of us, it was easy to imagine what it might be like to live somewhere different. If travel doesn’t broaden the mind, it certainly brings a new perspective. By the end of the year, Tom and I had decided that it was time for a change, time to move closer to a town (we are neither of us, as they say, getting

Fly Free, Dottie Do

‘How many days to my birthday?’ Ma asks. I do a quick calculation. ‘Eighteen,’ I reply. ‘Eighteen days until your ninetieth birthday.’ Ma pulls a face and shakes her head. Every sentence is hard work for her now, when each breath is a struggle. ‘You’ll have to write a book about this, you know,’ she says, with one of her quick, mischievous smiles. ‘“Carry On Dying”. Make ‘em laugh, make ‘em cry.’ The smile fades. ‘Who knew,’ she adds wearily, ‘that dying would be such a palaver?’  It’s only eleven days since Ma was diagnosed with a high-grade, aggressive lymphoma, four days since she was overwhelmed with pain and breathing difficulties and was admitted as an emergency to hospital. Until a few weeks ago, she lived completely independently; shopping, cooking, cleaning and tending her much-loved garden. The deterioration in her health is shockingly rapid. The eight days preceding her death are a living hell, a constant battle with the ward staff to get Ma the pain relief she’s been presc