But apparently the results from the cells taken from my lymph node in my armpit were clear, which indicates that it's unlikely that the cancer has spread too far, which bodes well. I'm trying not to get too optimistic, but I'm certainly feeling more positive today. She is going to book me in for a provisional surgery date in April so at least I have a vague timeframe now.
On the way out of the hospital after a frustrating morning, we popped into the hospital museum. Yes, due to its fascinating history, St Bart's has a little museum, filled with medieval medical instruments and incredible facts. For example, I had no idea that, upon returning from Afghanistan, a Dr Watson met a certain Sherlock Holmes in a lab at St Bartholomew's:
Or that in the 1700s, the hospital had its own brewhouse, and patients drank beer as part of their diet (which was considerably better for them than the water of the time). Here is a malt shovel from the hospital's brewhouse:
There are also two magnificent Hogarth paintings on the stairs, one of the Good Samaritan and one of Christ healing the sick:
I wasn't as impressed by the amputation instruments from the 1500s, they looked pretty gruesome. On the way out of the hospital, we also realised that William Wallace, who fought for Scotland's independence in the 1200s, was hanged, drawn and quartered on a site very close to here:
Such a fascinating, history-filled area. Plenty to distract myself with while I play the waiting game for another three weeks.
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