Welcome to my blog...

From fertility drugs, to a parasite to Colon Cancer. Did a mushroom save my life?!

Welcome to my blog!
I'm Laura, a 31 year old physiotherapist from Surrey, England living in Dubai. And as of this week I have colon cancer. Colon Cancer, cancer still can't believe I am saying that word.



It was my mum's idea to start a blog. She has romantic notions of my blog being followed by millions, saving lives and eventually becoming a book and film! Not to mention a slot on 'This Morning' to tell my story! I don't expect my blog to be a bestselling novel, I'm not entertaining enough, but I think it will help me deal with this experience by writing about my feelings and if it helps one other person along the way then how great is that. Plus, living so far away from friends and family, it is a good way to keep everyone updated without repeating the story a hundred times.
So lets get on to my story!



The beginning
My symptoms have been very atypical and it's only looking back now that I wonder how I have got through the last few weeks. My husband is a teacher and has over 2 months off for summer holiday so we decided he would go home for 3 weeks to see his family. Perfect time for me to start my diet! I am a chocoholic! Can't go a day without it and it was starting to show. Now I'm only short so any extra weight and I look fat. So diet D day was 1st August and with Matt in the UK I could be strict. The goal- was to lose at least half a stone before a family wedding, in Spain so bikini required, at the beginning of September. Now, I have a medical back ground so I know that you need to eat well and exercise regularly but always one tempted by the quick fix I decided to be more radical. Found a diet on line, loosely based on low GI that promised to help you lose half a stone in a week. Great! By that rate I would be a toned goddess come the beach party. So brown rice and bran flakes became my only carbohydrates, raspberries my only fruit, no dairy and lots of meat and vegetables. God by day 2 I felt like crap! Serious sugar withdrawal but the weight was going. I managed to lose the half stone in about 10 days, so decided to treat myself with apples and a small square of dark chocolate. I remained very good for one month, felt great, looked better and could wear clothes that haven't fitted for years. Goal achieved, husband home and so more chocolate and take aways crept back in! Anyway enough about the diet. The problem is by me starting the diet I was masking one of the signs of cancer- weight loss. In fact I have weighed myself today, just over 3 months since I started the diet, and I have now lost nearly 2 stone! The secret to my success- not Low GI like I have been boasting about but the cancer diet!



Next medical problem- having been married a year we decided to start trying for a baby. I had been on the pill for 14 years so had no idea about my natural cycle so decided to start tracking my basal body temperature. Friends and family thought I was mad and anal and very typically 'Monica-ish'! What a bloody nightmare that was. You can't get up in the night to go to the toilet otherwise it raises your temperature. I cannot count the number of times I have lain in bed in the early hours, desperate for the loo! My fertility tracking book came everywhere and anyone who asked was shown my graphs! However, this plan paid off as I became aware there was a problem with my fertility. Part of my job involves working with pregnant women and pregnancy has always fascinated and amazed me. I think pregnant women look beautiful and I am very keen to experience it myself.



I found a lovely obs/gyn, Dr K, who has been working hard with us. Some hilarious stories around fertility testing by the way! From a mad dash with my husband's 'sample' in a pot in his boxer shorts to the nice young receptionist asking him how long it took to produce the sample! He didn’t know whether to tell the truth or brag to sound like a stud! Anyway, turns out I have a polycystic left ovary and a bloody lazy right one! Typical! After a couple of different drugs, and at one stage taking 3 different meds at different stages of my cycle, it was decided I would give metformin a go. This became cancer disguiser number 2. Metformin is very well known for causing abdominal upset initially, so when after 2 days I experienced constant right sided abdominal pain for 48 hours, me and the doctors put it down to the drugs' side effect. I stopped metformin the pain went so 2 days later I started again. 4 days later- same thing. This time I also had vomiting and diarrhea with the pain but the symptoms only lasted for half a day. Decided by all that metformin was not the drug for me so continued with other hormone tablets. By now we are in October and keeping fingers crossed that a baby was on its way.



The problem was the abdominal pain kept coming back and always on the right side. I could be fine for 4-5 days then have severe pain for 2 days. There was no pattern. I stopped dairy and even blamed my husband's chilli con carne. We have a house rule that on the nights I work late he makes dinner- this is twice a week. He can only seem to cook with mince since we arrived in Dubai so we tend to have chilli con carne (Jamie Oliver's one with chick peas, very tasty) or meatballs every week!



So this pattern continued. I think everyone at work thought I was a hypochondriac, always moaning about a pain! My whole life really stopped in October but again at the time I wasn’t noticing. I only work 20 hours a week- the joys of living in Dubai and so normally spend my days off sunbathing and shopping, my favourite things. But all I have been doing is watching downloads and sleeping. We only have one car at the moment so on my days off I either drop my husband to work or pick him up to save taxis but I just didn’t have the energy. He would leave for work at 7am and I would go back to sleep for a few hours. Now those of you that know us know we are snooze bugs and are always in bed, lights off by 10 so I was sleeping a lot. It terms of trying for a baby, the ovulation injection let us know the exact time to try because I didn’t have the energy for having fun and leaving it to chance! House rule 2 is whoever didn’t cook does the washing up and rule 3- on my days off I water the garden plants. Both these things went out of the window! The plants are all dead and my husband thought I was starting some competitive over the piles of washing up.
We knew times were bad when I cancelled my patients. I hate cancelling patients and it worries me no end. I have lovely patients and I am involved in their lives and making their lives better. To let them down by cancelling is something I avoid at all costs. Half way through October I woke at midnight and had pain every 5 minutes for the whole night. I imagined it to feel like child birth. A wave of intense pain, then nothing for a few minutes, on repeat. That next morning I phoned in sick. The good thing about my job is patients tell me about their experiences with different doctors so I have a stored list in my head of who to see for what problems. A patient had told me how happy she was with Dr R so I phoned, nearly in tears with pain, to see if she could see me. Fate was on my side that day. The receptionist informed me she had finished her procedures early so had opened up a few slots that day. Dr R was brilliant. Professional, supportive and caring. After an abdominal US it was decided that I had a parasite and potentially a bowel obstruction as the parasites were being contained in a section. Antibiotics were started with the plan to rescan to check the obstruction once they were finished. Finally a reason why I felt like crap!



My husband went to Kenya at the beginning of this year for work and became ill with a parasite. In fact I received a phone call from the hotel manager in Kenya saying thank goodness I had called my husband was very ill and may need to go to hospital. With my heart sinking and panicking that my husband had had an accident, a heart attack, stroke or worse, I waited to be connected to my husband's room. He answered by telling me he had terrible diarrhea and didn’t know what to do. Bloody hell! Men! Told him to sit on the toilet and keep drinking! Anyway if he can survive a parasite then so can I!



However, things were not going to be that simple for me! Became really ill for 2 days. Had to move into the spare room due to the sickness and pain and couldn’t even keep down water. I remember lying on the bed, feeling sorry for myself, thinking I can't live like this. I can't live with this pain. Dr R phoned most days to check my progress and things started to settle again. Back in the summer we booked 3 nights away in Ras Al Khaimah for the Eid holiday (a local holiday in the UAE). I was really looking forward to relaxing and spending time with Matt. We hadn't been away alone since our honeymoon so I couldn’t wait. I would be finishing the antibiotics a few days before we went so would hopefully be feeling good. Dr R phoned before Eid to see if I was better and tell me she would see me the following week. The morning she phoned I felt good. Finally getting better.



Wednesdays are my late shift at work and by the time I arrived in the afternoon I had terrible nausea. No pain just a feeling I was going to be sick at any moment. In fact, in between patients I was having to rush to the toilet. The next day, the last working day before our break, the nausea returned. In fact so bad that I again had to cancel a patient and go home. The dog had to be taken to kennels that afternoon so I decided to come home, sleep for a few hours and then take her. We have a beautiful but absolutely mad dog! She was a rescue dog that had been abandoned in the desert with her 9 puppies that all died. She is a Labrador/Canaan (local dessert dog) mix. So naughty and so greedy she has dictated how we live our lives for the last year and I can't tell you the number of times I have threatened to return her. I always figured that we had done a good thing by taking in a dog that I'm sure most people wouldn’t want and that when we eventually have kids karma will step in and we will have little angels. This is what I pray for anyway! So dog packed off with her bed, strict instructions not to socialize her as she hates all animals, and an enclosed kennel as the first time she went she managed to jump the 6ft wall! I just had to find the energy to pack for myself.



People who know me well know that a chicken tikka masala, pilau rice and sag aloo is my idea of heaven. I could eat this everyday! So on Thursday night we decided to get a takeaway. But for the first time ever I just didn’t fancy Indian. We decided to have Chinese instead- my choice. Now I never choose Chinese but that night I just felt I needed it. Did a mushroom save my life?! Will explain this later! 5 minutes after finishing noodles, chicken and beef I took a turn for the worse. Severe pain that was making me cry, vomit, diarrhea and finally a fever of 102. The hard thing about living abroad is not having family near you, especially your mum when you feel ill. However, I have a substitute Dubai mum in the form of 'M' a nurse I work with. 'M' has helped us out a number of times over the last year with various illnesses and mummy advice. My husband calls her our hero! She is always our savior in our hour of need but unfortunately this evening she was out having a few drinks and not answering her phone! With both of us panicking we decided to go to A & E. Or ER as it's known out here! My concern is that I may actually get George Clooney as a doctor- lovely to look at but no medical knowledge! However, Dubai is our home now and you have to trust your home country. Being medical I feel happier if I know a medical professional has trained in a country with good degrees and research based practice. So fingers crossed, sick bin on lap we make our journey to American Hospital Dubai. (Again recommended by patients, apparently their maternity unit is good so I just have to hope this carries through the rest of the hospital!)



Common to most couples, most of our 'disagreements' happen in the car and involve directions. When we first arrived in Dubai my husband couldn’t drive the hire car as he had a temporary residence visa , so day one I have been driving on these crazy roads. If you have never been to the UAE I don't think you would believe the stories! People reverse down the motorway if they miss their exit, no one indicates, u-turns are the norm, as is tail-gating and I have even followed a truck with a camel sitting on the back down a 6 lane motorway! Crazy, crazy, crazy! Anyway, back to the story, I know my way around and my husband doesn’t! so we argue over directions on the way to the hospital!



The American Hospital is lovely, like a hotel. In fact they have bell boys with the old fashion trolleys taking patient's luggage to their rooms! And by luggage I mean piles of Gucci and YSL bags!



ER is quiet (wouldn't be the case in the UK on a weekend night, so there are some perks of limiting alcohol!) and I only have to wait 20 minutes. The Dr takes things seriously and requests bloods and a CT. when the door opens and a friendly Australian nurse walks in, both my husband and I cannot contain our excitement. A properly qualified nurse all to myself! That is unfair, all the nurses were lovely and professional and after handing over a 2500 pound deposit I am admitted for further investigation. I have to admit whilst lying on the bed I was thinking what will happen if there is nothing wrong with me and I am just a hypochondriac! How can I explain that to work!

Day 1-Friday
So room 164 was my new home! Too much of a baby to stay on my own, Matt got tucked up on the sofa bed. By now my pain had settled, it was 3am and we were both exhausted. And we slept really well for 1 hour- then the blood pressure checks, medication and doctor visits started! By 5am I had told my whole story about 3 times!



The next morning I was visited by Dr W, the gastroenterologist. My concern was changing Drs from Dr R as she had started to look after me and I trusted her, but with her away I had no choice. But by good luck Dr W trained with Dr R and was just as lovely. Her initial thoughts were that I would need a colonoscopy in a few days to determine the problem with the most likely diagnosis being Crohn's disease. Keen to go home so we could still go away for a few days I asked to be discharged and come back for the colonoscopy a few days later. However, Dr W wasn’t so sure and decided to ask special permission to repeat an US herself. Apparently in Dubai hospitals this is not the done thing and we had to sneak into a locked department! What she saw obviously concerned her as the next minute I am booked for an emergency colonoscopy the next morning and there's talk of surgery. Well at least I don’t have to worry 'it's all in my head'! Appears the lumen of my colon is very narrow.



Now back to the mushroom! Apparently mushrooms are very irritating to any inflammation or ulcers in the gut. I hadn't eaten mushrooms since trying to conceive (advice from a patient!) but there had been mushrooms in the chinese! The mushroom had probably been the thing to make me so ill that evening and therefore go to hospital. Eventually my symptoms would have worsened on their own but by that time the cancer may have spread. So yes, I believe a mushroom may have saved my life! My husband, being a teacher, has terrible jokes. One of his favourites is …there is not 'mush' room left on my plate! In my case, thank goodness, there was not 'mush' room left in my colon!



Darling 'M' arrives to check on us and although she has her own worries she makes sure we are being looked after. Now I have to phone my mum, currently in Spain having a holiday. Not the easiest or nicest call to make but need her with me. Mum is going to fly out and will land early Monday morning.



Issue with my insurance company begin. Form after form, letter after letter. The hospital require a 25,000 pound deposit before they will operate! Eventually all is sorted. I think this job gives Matt a distraction and sense of helping.



I am someone who works better with facts. I like to know what is happening exactly, told all possible outcomes and worse case scenarios. Matt thinks I'm pessimistic, I think I'm a realist and I would rather be prepared to handle the worse. That way things could only be better than expected. Dr W is great at helping me with these tendencies and armed with 4 bottles of laxatives I begin my journey for my final diagnosis.



I have a best friend in the Uk who has tummy problems. Over the years I have watched her suffer, be brave and be positive. With her in mind I prepared myself for procedures I never thought I would have to face.



Laxatives taste disgusting! I mean gross like nothing you have tasted before! But we come up with a plan- my husband holds my nose ( I can't hold my own nose as the cannula in my hand for IV has become inflamed and sore!), I take 3 gulps every 5 minutes and finish with a sip of apple juice! I have worked this out as a perfect mathematical equation in order to become nil by mouth at 11pm! And who says A-level Maths is not useful!



One hour in and we encounter problems. Nothing is coming out and I physically can't fit any more fluid into my body. The pain has worsened and now I can picture the fluid trying to be squeezed through my narrow colon. Eventually I'm very sick and the laxatives have to be stopped in case the blockage has closed off completely. Bad news. Dr W is no longer sure she can do the colonoscopy and we may have to go straight to surgery. But with a gurgling and a mad dash to the toilet my body does what it needs to do and the emptying starts! For people of a weak stomach, skip this part! …………Now the confusing thing is, I assumed when you have laxatives you have diarrhea. What I had was uncontrollable cloudy 'wee' like fluid. However, yesterday I discussed this with my friend in the UK and this is the norm! Very strange and definitely not poo! To add insult to injury, I needed an enema the following morning just in case I hadn’t consumed enough laxative. If I thought the laxative caused a mad dash this was in a whole new league!



Anyway poo talk over for now!

Day 2-Saturday
I'm sedated and the procedure goes smoothly. Can't remember a thing and definitely didn't feel a thing. Although I was having weird thoughts about my mum dying her hair pink! Ever the medical practitioner, on waking, I was concerned with my blood pressure- 65/41. Very low. However I decided to let go, let the nurses look after me and sleep for a little longer. My husband, I later found out, was not so calm. Was so anxious he felt like he was going to pass out, dropped cups on the floor, constantly hassled the nurses and then phoned 'M' and begged her to come in!



The surgeon, Dr S, arrives whilst I'm still in recovery to talk through options. I cannot remember speaking to him, just his face. But apparently I asked all the appropriate questions before falling asleep again!



As I am wheeled back to my room I am handed a picture of my colon. Disgusting! No wonder I had pain, it looks like I had an alien growing in my bowel! After a discussion with Dr W, it is explained that whatever it is, surgery is the necessary treatment as it is too large to respond to steroids. Advised it may be a tumour, ulcerative colitis or crohn's disease. Hoping for benign tumour that would then require no further treatment!



Dr S visits again to make sure I understood about surgery. Poor man had to explain the whole thing again. The word Cancer is used for the first time and I am shocked. In my dazed and sedated state I had not linked 'possible tumour' to 'could be cancer'. And worse than that, he explains there is a 50/50 chance of cancer because of where my obstruction is. He, however, fills me with confidence and I couldn’t have wished for a better, more honest surgeon. In my mind I don't think its cancer but I start to feel anxious about the surgery. As a junior physiotherapist working in ITU half the unit was always filled with patients who had complications post bowel surgery. I know too much! Need to keep calm.



Have to make another phone call to mum to tell her it may be cancer. Only 5am in Spain when she gets the news. Dr S wants to wait until mum lands to do the surgery so it's scheduled for 11am Monday. A few other friends and family to text and everyone is sending their love. It is times like these that you learn who your true friends are and I am blessed to have so many.

Day 3-Sunday
A day of rest if ever I needed one. Lots of film watching and snuggles. Matt is thrilled to be on the bed with me! We discuss my concerns for surgery and my post op recovery but both agree it couldn’t be much worse than I have already been experiencing.



I am on IV fluids and a limited clear fluid diet. They don't want me to eat and therefore irritate my symptoms. I am happy with this- this is the best I have felt in weeks. I know it’s the calm before the storm though.

I manage to sort out work which has been playing on my mind. The lovely 'J', my line manager, phones to discuss my patients and allocate their care to the rest of our team. Everyone needs someone like 'J' in their lives. She is an angel- kind, calm and reassuring. She is also ultra organized like me so together we make sure my patients are going to be looked after. Now I have to let it go and concentrate on myself. Hopefully in a month I will back at work.

Messages of support continue to arrive and Dr W and Dr S both check on me. Dr S explains he is going to treat the surgery as if he is removing something sinister so that a repeat operation will not be needed. We discuss the scar. After the cancer diet my tummy is looking quite flat and I love my belly button piercing. The small scar I'm hoping for though is unlikely. He explains it will be above, around and below my belly button and needs to be big enough for his fist to fit inside! I ask him to preserve my piercing and he says he will try but explains he is not a plastic surgeon and neat scars are not his forte!



We begin the before and after shots! I need to be able to show my future kids that at one stage I had a nice flat, unscarred tummy. The scar is upsetting me and I know it's superficial and really the last thing I should be worried about, but I am.



I will also have a catheter in after surgery for a few days and a NG tube (tube from my stomach up through my nose). Again it is these kinds of things that are worrying me more than anything.



I have a few things I want to say and do in case there are complications with surgery. I make matt write a list on the computer of where I want my prized processions to go. He is upset and doesn’t want to be part of any negative exercise but for my own piece of mind this is what I want to do. I don’t have much, but I want my brother and sister to have some of my money to buy something that will remind them of me and some of my jewellery. There is a debate over who will get 'cuddly' my bedtime companion from childhood! In the end I decide he will be cut into 3 and go to Matt, mum and a part will stay with me. I also have to tell matt how much I love him. I explain that if anything happens to me I want him to remarry and go on to live a full and happy live. It takes ages before he promises to do this. Horrible things you never want to think about, let alone say, but I feel better once they are said.



The diagnosis is not even on my mind.



Day 4- Monday
Surgery time. Somehow we both slept. To keep relaxed we listen to relaxing music and look through our wedding photos. Lots of deep breathing too. Could easily run out of the room and keep going but know I have to face this head on and there is no easy escape.



Mum arrives by 9am in a blur of chatter, anxiety and luggage. She had been upgraded on the plane as she broke into tears as soon as she sat down! It appears Virgin were brilliant allowing her to disembark first, have priority luggage collection and front of the line for passport control. Mum looks like crap! In fact, right now in this room, I probably look the healthiest!



The aneasthetist arrives and I am comforted by his old school English bedside manner. He seems like a calm sensible chap and again puts me at ease. We discuss pain management after the surgery and we agree on morphine.



Anyway the time comes, and off I go. Dr S comes to help wheel the bed himself! This definitely does not happen back in the UK. He explains that if he wants things done on time he just does them himself! Pleased to note he looks well rested and ready for action. As he is pushing the bed I also take a sneaky glance at his hand. They look quite small so fingers still crossed for a good scar!



Mum and matt walk me down and I try not to cry as I say goodbye. I know the calmer you are being anaesthetized the better you are when you wake. Cannot put into words how nervous I am. I have had surgery before but only as a child.



The aneasthetist winks at me as he walks past and that small gesture seems to reassure me. I can trust him to look after my life. The last thing I remember before falling asleep is the aneasthetist saying a friend of his had recommended the clinic where I work as a good place to have physiotherapy. Good to know we have a good reputation!



And then I'm awake. Oh my goodness the pain! Feels like my diaphragm has been severed and each breath is hurting. Telling myself to keep calm but the next few hours escalate into chaos!

I later learn that mum and Matt received a phone call in the room from the surgeon asking them to come down to theatre. With anxiety levels sky high they make the dash. Mum is convinced they have found something in my womb and I will need a hysterectomy and Matt thinks much worse. No need to worry, he just wanted to tell them the surgery had been a complete success!