Relief!

How relieved am I, dear reader?

Very, is the answer!

Yesterday, on my return from shopping in the city centre, I found a telephone message had been left for me by Sandra at Oral Medicine. She'd called to see if I could make it in today for a 09:30 appointment. It being gone 17:00 before retrieving the message, I could do nothing before this morning. So, en route to the hospital, in the car, I called Sandra to tell her I was on my way. She was quite happy to hear that I was.

Ian drove me into the city. The traffic was terrible, but we still arrived with plenty of time to spare.

Before long, I was in the oral surgeon's chair. Her name was Wendy. She was camp, fabulous, funny, beaufitul and larger than life. No, that doesn't mean she was fat.

She said she'd had a wee letter from the Ear, Nose and Throat department to say my biopsy was inconclusive and she'd been asked to have a look at me. After a few questions and a wee look at my cake hole, she was quite satisfied that the tumour on and in my tongue was trauma tissue caused as a result of injury to my tongue and therefore benign.

"We'll whip that out straight away!" she said.

"What, now?" I asked.

"Aye!"

And she did. With a nurse holding my hand, Wendy repeatedly jabbed my tongue with anaesthetic. She told me then, to shut my eyes. Honestly, I ddin't feel a thing, apart from a finger on my lips. Curiosity got the better of me and I opened my eyes to see long yellow threads coming out of my mouth. Stitches. It was all over.

Wendy told me the coating on my tongue was normal and I shouldn't worry. The tissue she'd removed was about an inch long and the thickness of an earth worm. Not an image to fill me with joy, but her words did. "...highly unlikely..." She said there was still a slim chance the tissue removed could be malignant, but that it was highly unlikely.

I'm to go back in two weeks for a check up, results et al.

I'm going down to Bournemouth on Saturday, as planned, though will have to return to Edinburgh on 22nd December for my hospital visit. I'll fly up from Southampton for the day. I've never been to Edinburgh on a day trip before. Exciting! Nice to go flying!

The anaesthetic soon wore off, leaving me in agony. The pain is quite bad, even with the help of Nurofen. Extra strength. Swallowing is absolute hell. I had no idea I did it so much.

Do you like to swallow, dear reader?

As if all this wasn't bad enough, I'm starving! With all the worry, I've not really felt like eating for the past few days. Now I'm ravenous. But can't eat anything for twenty four hours. I did take a little ice cream earlier. It really helped, actually. After that, I tried thin Ready Brek, but that was no good. I couldn't swallow it.

Ian, the kind and thoughtful devil that he is, came back from the supermarket a few moments ago with a bar of Lindor for wee Minge. Sadly, even after having let it completely melt in my mouth, I couldn't swallow it and had to spit it out. Painful in every sense of the word.

Perhaps it's time I listened to the advice of medical professionals.

I'm so overjoyed, dear reader, I can't begin to tell you. I really thought I was looking death in the eye. It now seems, far from calling on me, he was in another town altogether.

Phew!

I'd really like to thank all those people who've wished me well, thought of me and remembered me in their prayers. I appreciate it more than I can express in words and love you very much, very deeply.