I saved Twinklebear’s life!
Did I rush her out of the way of an oncoming bus, heading toward her at breakneck speed? Did I disarm a mugger threatening her life with an eight inch blade? The answer to these, is no. But I did save Twinklebear’s life, as surely as if I’d done these heroic deeds. I might even go so far as to suggest, that what I did to save her, was just as significant, in effect. Let’s rewind, to the beginning…..
“Twinklebear” Lesley Maclean, as you know from the previous memoirs, is the love of my life, and my “twin flame” soulmate. You might also remember, that we know ourselves to be lovers and spouses, reincarnated from previous lives.
MY SWEET LOVE: Twinklebear
This is a somber memoir, one that reflects a rough period in Twinklebear’s—and therefore my—life as well—because as twin flame soulmates, we share everything deeply and instinctively. That means that we synchronously experience the same feelings at the same time.
It began around the end of July of last year. There began to be some irregularities in Twinklebear’s periods, marked by heaviness of flow, and spotting. “It must be perimenopause,” we both erroneously thought. This was because perimenopause, which is the run-up to menopause—can exhibit these very same symptoms. In July of this year, the symptoms got worse.
Throughout July of this year, the erratic spotting of blood, became more frequent–almost daily. This worried us greatly. In fact, it was driving Twinklebear almost mad with worry, and in turn, me mad with worry about not just Twinklebear’s possible medical issue, but her emotional well-being as well.
She was so stressed!
Twinklebear was also starting to experience some unusual back pains too. All of this combined to force her hand, to finally her see a doctor. Now, She and I are every similar, in one respect. We loathe going to doctors. We are some pair, I tell ya! We are the co-presidents of Hypochondriacs Anonymous, I think. Ha!
Just an aside regarding the unintentional marking of time. In the course of preparing images to be used with this memoir, there was a revelation. At my photography website, I found that the last time I took a street picture was on August 9th (I’m writing this memoir on October 21, 2017). I had lost interest in taking pictures because I was so worried, which I normally do every day.
Also as I was writing this, I turned on my stereo for the first time since around the beginning of August, and am playing music for the first time in two and half months.
Two and a half months!
That, is how long it’s been that I’ve been worried about Twinklebear, that I lost interest in carrying my camera around, and lost interest in music–which I normally love!
That is the backdrop against which, the story unfolds. By July of this year, Twinklebear was sufficiently worried about her symptoms, to seek a medical opinion. The question that hung in the air was, were these merely perimenopausal signs, or something more sinister?
What really alarmed me the most, was that Twinklebear’s energy seemed sapped. She had almost no energy, as if something evil in her, was draining it.
This was not like her!
I should explain now, that England has a socialized medicine system, called the “NHS” (National Health Service), in which working Brits pay taxes toward the funding of–that allows everybody to be covered. That includes the indigent who receive welfare benefits.
This means a system in which patients must wait longer periods to be seen, as opposed to using private doctors outside the NHS system. The NHS system is so stretched to its financial limits, that this is the price patients must pay. Long waiting times to see specialists within the NHS system, are the norm.
In late July of this year, Twinklebear went to her local NHS medical office. She saw one of the GPs (general practitioner) there, who concurred Twinklebear’s symptoms were indeed, perimenopausal in nature. We were told not to worry.
However, this did not sit right with Twinklebear. She was not convinced that this doctor was right, or did enough investigative tests to be sure of the diagnosis. So, Twinklebear went back to this office and saw another doctor.
This doctor was more thorough, and was of the opinion that Twinklebear’s symptoms were not normal. He urged Twinklebear to arrange for a uterine scan, to be sure. By this time, I had to scrape Twinklebear off the walls, because she was stressed with worry that this might be something more serious!
It was at this point, that I felt I had to step in big time, and convince Twinklebear to seek a private consultation, with a fee-for-service (the patient pays directly, bypassing the NHS system) specialist.
“But I don’t have that kind of money, Sookybear,” she said.
Screw that noise, man! Against Twinklebear’s very adamant wishes, I mailed her the money she needed for the consultation, and any tests that might be involved.
After I convinced Twinklebear to “go private,” she obtained an appointment at the end of that very week—this was mid-August, at the Spire Sussex Hospital, an excellent private facility. The August 18th appointment was with a kindly and thorough OB/GYN specialist, Dr. Zaidi, who found some irregular polyps in Twinklebear’s uterus. She was then scheduled for a stat MRI.
I don’t mind telling you that tears are welling up in my eyes, as I recount this. My God, Twinklebear, I love you so much! I will never let anything happen to you! The MRI confirmed our worst fears!
She had cancer!
More specifically, endometrial (cancer of the uterus lining). This specialist wanted Twinklebear to see a surgeon in Brighton, Dr. Peter Larsen-Disney, to arrange for, and to perform the surgery. This would be at the Nuffield Health Brighton Hospital. Twinklebear arranged to see Dr. Larsen-Disney very soon after.
Both Twinklebear and I believe that if she had went solely through the NHS system in this whole process, that her surgery might have been delayed for weeks, if not months.
Now we were talking about some serious money!
Again, in the face of Twinklebear’s protestations, I wire transferred the funds needed to cover the consultation with Dr. Larsen-Disney, the surgery, and the hospital stay—to Twinklebear’s bank.
“You can’t stop me from doing this,” I told Twinklebear. This was my first ever experience with wire transferring money.
Dr. Larsen-Disney finally performed Twinklebear’s surgery on September 25th!
You know me, I’m a fighter, I was going to use all of my combat skills, instincts—and financial resources, to save my Twinklebear! My killer instinct came to the fore. That money was my left fist, and Dr. Larsen-Disney’s surgical, skill set, would be my right fist, to finish this malignant thing off!
Begone, you goddamned ugly thing!
The latest post-op news from the surgical pathology report, was that she does not require any further treatment, such as chemotherapy or radiation treatments. The future (and the present) is bright once again!
This has to be the most emotional memoir I’ve ever written. I did save her. Thank God.
I love you, Twinklebear Lesley Maclean
Forever and a day
Twin Flames, Podmates always
Bear Pact Forever!
12 12 12 in every way
SCOTT “SOOKYBEAR” WONG