10. You Get What You Pay For ( or the insurance does)

Over the next couple of days I sprung into admin over drive and dug through my emails to find the authorisation for diagnostic consultation with my private health care company that I had applied for weeks ago before I got the NHS referral.

I went online and googled the available options at the most local private hospital they normally send me to and chose the consultant I thought might serve me the kindest.

A man, but I'm not judging! And to be honest his CV impressed me, so I was willing to put aside if he was full of self importance and ego. I'd give it a final shot and book an appointment. At the same time as it was something I had only just found out about and came under the rules of Pauls medical insurance with his company which had only been active since March, I applied for insurance with them, funding to see a lady proctologist ( bum doctor) in the private hospital in Cambridge. Paul's insurance would cover me all through treatment, if this ended up being cancer at the other end as well, as they did cover cancer not just diagnostics.

I was scared stiff, but having to work the system and advocate for myself and organise the shit out of 2 loads of different insurance health claims was a huge distraction. I was conscious of the time all this was taking, and although I had gone months ignoring the presence in my neck, I suddenly found myself waking in the middle of the night, having hot flushes and then laying awake and wondering if it was menopause or the cancer working extra hard to invade even more places in my body. It was during those hours, I made my plans. Laying in the dark, listening to Paul's steady carefree breathing sometimes from next to me, other times from the other room. We had taken to sleeping separately so I could try and sleep through the night, the ongoing pain from my fibromyalgia , the hot night sweats, and the him and Lottie in the same sleeping space were making more than 90 mins of sleep almost unheard of, I'd lie awake designing in my head the blue prints of 2 versions of how my life was going to go from here.

During the day, slowly silently, un beknown to anyone I started putting those plans into action.

When I had gone to Norwich and been given the treatment option, they had told me the surgery wouldn't be until the beginning of October, approx 4-5 weeks so in my head I was pushing for getting something else in place within the same timescale, which had to be safe if that was what they were suggesting. Very quickly I secured an initial appointment with the private consultant and I was all set to have one last bite at the cancer apple. My first, and maybe last appointment with Mr Furrat Amen was arranged for 8 days after Norwich, and I had a lot to do.