5. Patient 27

As I sat in the corridor, I think on the same seat I had sat less than 2 weeks before, I stared down at the deli ticket that the bored girl at the reception desk had passed me. There were far fewer people here today, and I was glad as I still only had remembered to bring the same grubby facemask from last time still scrunched up in my jacket pocket.

A women in a green nurses scrubs kept walking backwards and forwards into different rooms and smiled at me. I smiled vaguely back hoping she could see my attempt back by my eyes as I had my mouth covered with the mask. I felt calm and it was a strange surreal feeling to be sitting there, and I remembered the film 'sliding doors' that explored 2 very different lives of the same person. That was me now, I was Gwyneth Paltrow, but instead of missing the train and not finding your husband cheating on you, I would walk out of this hospital 1 of 2 ways, home to book our first holiday abroad in years, or home to decide if I wanted to fight, or die. to tell, or keep it a secret until it was too late for people to force me into having treatment I didn't want , couldn't do.

The appointment went quickly, aided by the fact the consultant a different one from the first appointment didn't know how to work the nose camera, couldn't speak understandable English and had to be translated by an embarrassed looking Mac Millan Nurse, incidentally the same smiley nurse from the corridor, <<< she already knew , she wasn't smiling she was laughing at you>>>

All I got from the appointment was, they had found cancer, a bit of paper with the words squamous cell carcinoma p16+ written on it, a Mac Millan folder, which felt like a huge 'Alert Alert Cancer Patient Coming Through' badge as I walked out of the hospital carrying it, back to my car. I had also been told the hospital where I'd been diagnosed didn't 'do' cancer, so I was going to be transferred miles away, in the opposite direction to where I live and be treated there. Which now meant an approx 1 1/2 hours journey every time. I sat in the car. Now I had to decide. Do I throw the folder in the bin, go home and tell everyone is wasn't anything and just let happen what was going to happen, or am I weak, and take the easy option and step into the world of transparency, and be urged through the nightmare with well wishing friends and pitying strangers. I rung my best friend.

'Audra...... its cancer'