So this morning was THE BIG DAY. After several months of tests, including the original PET scan, then a colonoscopy, endoscopy, blood tests, a CT scan with another follow-up CT last week… I was finally going to get my results. To hopefully tell me what is going on with the mysterious “area of inflammation” they found during my last PET scan in February.

I won’t lie. I’ve been a bit of a mess about this since they started “investigating” this inflammation. I do my best to live in denial and just carry on with my life, but when it comes to stuff like booking a tapas tour a few months in advance, I am left wondering if I’ll actually be able to do it. Likewise with my summer plans. I’ve been putting everything on hold until I got the “go ahead”. Which was supposed to be today.

Except it wasn’t. I got to the hospital and after more than an hour in the hot and crowded waiting room, I was shown into the oncologist’s office… only to be told the CT scan results hadn’t been processed yet. WTF? My oncologist looked surprised and said – “oh, didn’t they call you yesterday?”. Well of course they hadn’t fucking called me yesterday, otherwise I wouldn’t have been there. Also, I wouldn’t have lost most of this week in a state of suspended emotion, not daring to feel or hope… JUST IN CASE. And so I sat there not believing this was happening. Then the doctor pulled a date out of the air – July 5th – to meet again, saying that FOR SURE the results will have been processed by then. Well, what choice do I have?

I walked out of the hospital feeling a whole whack of mixed emotions. In some ways I was relieved because “no news is good news”. Well, maybe. But I was also annoyed at having lost my entire morning, not just the 3 hours getting to and from the hospital, and waiting there, but really the whole day up until then. BUT… what saved the entire experience from total disaster was… my taxi! I always taxi to the hospital and then usually walk back, mostly because I am so stressed before going that a taxi is a comfortable and easy way of getting there.

Anyhow check it out. I got into the taxi, not paying much attention. Then I noticed the big JAGUAR logo on the dashboard screen. And so I stupidly said to the driver – THIS IS A JAGUAR??? Then I went all fan girl, saying how Jags were my favourite cars and that I couldn’t believe that I was in a Jaguar taxi. The driver informed me that not only was this was the only Jaguar taxi in Sevilla, it was the only one in Spain. WOW. I told him that I was going to the hospital for test results and that I took this as a positive sign, and also that it was so cool that I’d be arriving there in style. And bless him, he said he was sure this meant everything was going to be okay. Then he showed me a photo of his friend’s taxi – the only Maserati taxi in Spain. I’m telling you, this totally MADE MY DAY. Being driven to the hospital in a Jaguar XF.

Meanwhile, I now have two more weeks of hellish anxiety until the next oncology appointment. I wish I would have asked my driver for his card so I could always call him up when I have to go to the hospital…