Or so I thought.

The final line from my last post. You guessed it, I was wrong.

Mona had been with me from as long as I could remember. Small, unassuming, never giving me any signals that she was about to rock the boat. This all changed in roughly February/March of this year.

Mona was the mole on my leg. You’ll understand the reason for the past tense later.

I glanced down at it one day and thought it looked a little different. Maybe I’d caught it on something? Not giving it much more thought, I got on with my daily going’s on. It wasn’t long after having my gallbladder out that I noticed it again. I’d caught it-I can’t remember what I’d been doing-and it broke the skin. More importantly, it was massive. I really didn’t remember it being that big. Like a little mushroom on the side of my leg.

I was getting to the point where I couldn’t go a day- an hour even- without it beginning to hurt or start to bleed for one reason or another. All I could do was bandage it up, keep it out of the sun and wait to pluck up the courage to see the Dr.

Que my visit to the Dr. Instant referral to dermatology… within a week! Of course, I thought the worst. A mole that had turned into the size of a mushroom on my leg, that my dog was continually trying to remove(she totally knew!!) that would bleed and then go crusty (gross, I know) and cause excruciating pain if something was even brushed past it.

It was decided that it looked like a basal cell carcinoma. A common cancer that was on the top of the skin and simple removal would sort it out. So, slice it off and send it off for testing. all good.

Nope.

On 8th June 2024- Dans anniversary- I was told that the mole was a malignant melanoma. Que a whirlwind of appointments at Christies in Manchester.

Scans, blood tests, various appointments. My cancer was put at a stage 3C. Not great really. The plan was to take a 10cm diameter incision at the site where the mole had been and then a skin graft. A sentinal node biopsy was done to see where the cancer had travelled to-or where it would be likely to travel to-incase I needed to have immunotherapy.

My surgery went ahead and I spent the summer going every week up to Christie’s in Manchester to get my dressing changed. I was completely immobile for the first 6 weeks. That was interesting.. I did manage to go on holiday though and hired a scooter (that was actually good fun!) pretty sure I came back paler than I was when I left though.

September it was decided that I would have preventative immunotherapy. I’m my mind that meant that there was nothing there that they could see but just incase, let’s make sure.

It started in October 2024. Now, immunotherapy isn’t well known. It takes less time to be infused into your system, you don’t have it as often-once every 3-6 weeks, you can gain (yes gain) weight and you don’t lose your hair. All the things that most people will think of when someone has cancer.

It does however make you feel like you’ve been hit by a truck-for a shorter period of time-but still.. a very large truck, rolling over you.

Part of my continuing care was having scans, ultrasounds and various blood tests. I never had a problem with needles. I’m a big fan of them anymore.

I had a PET scan in December. A scan where you have a radioactive dye pumped into your system. This has to process for an hour before you have your scan. The scan can last up to an hour. I was almost a scan pro so I could fall asleep no problem!

December 2024 I was advised that the cancer had spread to my lymph nodes in my groin.

*insert multiple expletives*

Fine. No problem. Let’s get this treatment going and all will be well.

Nope. Immunotherapy was cancelled.

The lymph nodes were right next to my main artery but they needed to come out. At this point I was in limbo. Surgeons wouldn’t operate as they felt it was too dangerous.. oncology felt that it should still go ahead. After a tug of war, I finally got referred to the colorectal team who decided that they would operate.

More scans and blood tests needed to be carried out before a date could be confirmed. The scan showed that the melanoma was active.. Getting bigger and needed to bugger off.

I had my surgery confirmed and finally in May 2025 successfully had the majority of lymph nodes removed.

As of now, I’m going back on immunotherapy. I know I will be absolutely fine.. a long road but the outcome *will* be positive.

I’ll keep you posted

Claire

Before I begin, I’ve realised-once again-just how little I utilize this blog. I’ve got approximately 7 posts that are in my drafts. Things that I’ve taken time to write but not posted. Why? No idea. I mean, I obviously like talking about myself don’t I, so I should have posted them. Some of them go back to 2020! I suppose there’s not much point now though, so in my drafts they will stay.

Now, back to the reason I came back on this thing! The fourth quarter of 2023. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin.

It was October 2023. I’d had a lovely summer. I was feeling settled in my job. The seas were calm. Until, that is, I had to get some well overdue blood tests done (another long story-basically don’t wait as long as I did)

I didn’t forsee any issues.

Never assume people. Never assume!

Now, I don’t know about your Drs surgery, but mine don’t bother calling you if everything is hunky dory. Which is fine by me. They may call you a week or so later to ‘check in’. On this occasion however, I received a call the very next day.

S!*t.

My Dr very calmly informed me I had ‘concerningly low levels’ of well, everything. Every vitamin in the alphabet, anaemia, malabsorption, compromised liver function. I needed urgent follow up blood tests for celiac, colitis and bowel big C.

Double s!*t.

I tried to remain as calm as possible whilst wanting to get answers. Luckily those latter tests were fine, so after a severe slap on the wrist from multiple parties (including myself) for letting myself get so run down, I started to sort myself out.

Or so I thought.

Over the October half term, the boys, my partner and I went to Canada. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so glad we went. We had a lovely time, but I was having stomach issues. Bloated, pains in my side, pains that I associated with the change in diet causing heartburn, bloating and indigestion daily.

Nothing helped. It was worse on the flight home. I could barely have anything touching my waist. The only thing that helped slightly were painkillers. Multiple painkillers.

We arrived home on Friday the 3rd November. Saturday 4th, these pains came back with a vengeance. Starting from under my chest right down my right side. I couldn’t stay still through the pain. Then I started vomiting. Every 30 minutes. Continually. The pain would subside for 5minutes. Then come back until I started the cycle again.

Que to a trip to urgent care where they put me on morphine and fluids and monitored my blood pressure which was dangerously low.

Initially it was thought it was my appendix. A scan with the dye in my veins equated to a trip to Wythenshawe (a much larger) hospital. Another CT scan showed I had a 4cm gallstone and an infected upper bowel. I was sent away with antibiotics and told to rest.

I missed bonfire night being in hospital-absolutely gutted. I love bonfire night-and was released early hours of Sunday morning.

On the Sunday evening, we celebrated my mums birthday a day early. I still felt rotten. I could barely function without painkillers. I looked tired and bloated. Rough was an understatement.

Monday 6th, the cycle started again. Pain, sickness.. I had to call work and tell them I wouldn’t be in. I called urgent care again and went straight back to Wythenshawe hospital.

I couldn’t stay still, I couldn’t keep anything down, I couldn’t have anything touching my stomach-the waistband on my pants were by the top of my thigh, my bra was a complete no go. I felt horrific.

After what felt like hours, I was given morphine and admitted to hospital.

At that point, I found out I not only had the gall stone, I also had kidney stones and my upper bowel had begun to collapse. In hospital I had 3 days of each Dr saying the other stone was the issue.

Dr 1; Hmmm, I think the gall stone needs removing. That is causing the worst symptoms.

Dr 2; No, it’s your kidney stones that are the bigger issue. They need sorting.

Dr 1; I don’t agree.. we can’t do anything until the gall stone is removed.

Dr 2; I don’t agree.. we can’t do anything until the kidney stones are removed.

And so on..

Hospital day 3.
I was still on a drip. Still unable to keep food down without anti sickness medication-and even then it was only a bite.
I knew it was the right place to be, and the hospital staff were lovely, but I wanted out. 🙄

After MUCH begging for someone to help me, I was discharged November 9th and booked for lithotripsy.

November 13th. Lithotripsy day! This is sound wave treatment that is used to break up the kidney stones. It’s an outpatient appointment so no hospital stay-yay! Anyway, picture the scene. A room with this massive contraption in a horrendously loud room. Imagine a life size microscope. You sit on the plate that has a little bit of water underneath your tush.. Then it’s one hour of what feels like being whipped with an elastic band in the same spot for an hour.

The staff were so kind and patient. They knew it wouldn’t be fun so they made sure you were ready for it. That thing hurt. It hurt. It hurt a lot. I was definitely a lot of pain once that treatment had been done it took me a few days to recover. In the meantime, I’m still off work and Feeling terrible about it.

November 21 and I have my second session. It was still painful, but not quite as painful as the first time round. I did my hour and sat with a cup of tea and some biscuits waiting for my ride home. Is this finally it?! Will this sort the main issue?!

One word. Kinda.

In between all this, I was given an appointment at a place called SACRU-an emergency care assessment unit, usually an appointment is within a couple of days.

November My kidney stones had pretty much gone. This follow up was to see about the gall bladder. My liver function was abnormal so I would have to go for blood tests every couple of days.

I wasn’t able to eat anything other than yoghurt and granola as I would get cramps within an hour that would last for 2hours until I was sick and then it would subside. I was eventually told this was common with Gall bladder issues and to keep a strict plain diet. That wasn’t a problem, I couldn’t eat anyway!

I was put on the list for gall bladder removal. The timeframe being six months from paperwork to procedure. Christmas came and went. I had been off work now for roughly 8 weeks. Again, I felt awful about it!

I went back to work in January on a phased return. The staff there were all amazing and I finally got back into the swing of things again.. just before the Easter half term, I got my Gall bladder removed.

Everything was finally back to normal. Working normal hours, the students now used to having me back, no more horrible pain and sickness.

…

Or So I thought..

Here we are then. Anniversary number seven. Reminder number seven. Remembering the f*cking build up to some of the worst two days of my life seven.

I’m not all that sure what I am expecting of myself . It’ll be a day of people lovingly sending me messages. **something that is important to me. I know that they are all genuine and heart felt,and that they absolutely get me through so thank you, thank you, thank you**.

It won’t be “the day” for me though. Most of you know that it was so late finding out that my husband had been brutally murdered by someone who clearly wasn’t in their right mind, that I always feel like it is the following day. Yes, I said the M word. I’ve had enough of the killed in the line of duty this time. The top and bottom of it is that Dan was M worded.

Dan, I miss you. I miss your voice. I miss the fact that I haven’t had a tag team partner for so very long. I miss the disagreements we would have. I miss the way we would laugh together. I miss the boring and mundane stuff.

Then I look at those two pain in my backsides. They are just so like you. Our youngest was playing football the other weekend. As he stood there…well, it was just you! The mannerisms..the pose…the walk… I was just in awe of it. He hadn’t seen you since he was four, yet there he was, imitating you perfectly without even knowing it.

Our eldest is the same. He sleeps like you. Is a meataholic just like you. Will try anything once like you. He’s definitely getting more like my side of the family though. sooo, yeah, sorry.

I hope that you are looking down and are proud of what I am trying to do. It’s not an easy task. I mean, they’re boys!

I reminded the boys that it was your anniversary on wednesday. To which G said that we needed to eat Five Guys as it was one of your favourite places to eat.

And that’s what we’re going to do.

Cx

Back in the middle of 2019, I was contacted by a man by the name of Dale McFee. Dale, or should I say Chief McFee, had been newly appointed as the new Chief of Police for Edmonton Police Service. I had never met Dale. I had heard very little about him. I was invited to have a facetime (well, skype) meeting with him as he wanted to introduce himself. Which I thought was lovely. He didn’t have to do that. He could have sent an email. He could have sent a letter. From that initial conference call, we decided on a face to face to meeting. It was decided that myself, Dans parents and the boys would come back to Canada as there were some things that needed our attention.

Off we went on a journey back to Edmonton. November 2019. This was to be the first time we had stayed in YEG as-for want of a better word-tourists. We didn’t have our house to stay in. We had a hotel room right in the city centre. We had a rental car and a concierge-that I instantly grew accustomed to having! The boys didn’t have a choice of all the TV channels. They didn’t have their own rooms. That had to be quiet whilst walking through the corridor. (If you’ve met my children then you’ll know that a herd of elephants are quieter) They had access to an indoor pool. Although strange, it was perfect as it allowed the boys to switch off from the mode of ‘home number two’. This was to be classed as a winter holiday for them, with a few serious things that mum, grandma Neece and grandad David had to do along the way.

Yet again, the boys were treated like superstars by those at EPS and those at Constable Woodall School. The things that needed our attention?

Cst Woodall.. June 8th 2015.. Fallen Police officer.. Official report.. No sugar coating.. Nitty gritty.. WTF actually happened their son.. Their dad.. My husband.. Dan.

The boys were scooped up nice and early by two wonderful police officers. Their day was going to be jam packed! Going to the canine unit, going up in the police helicopter for a trip around Edmonton. That, and so much more. Lucky boys! We were greeted in the hotel lobby by the Chief, the Chaplain (who had been there since the start) and a few other people. Once again, we were treated like royalty.

As this was official business, we went to one of the government buildings (I think- it was an important building and it was very official) The gathering was to be held in one of the board rooms. All of a sudden, this all became very real. Easy, laid back chit chat had changed to a more formal narrative. We were each handed a stapled bundle of paper. This was it. This was what would tell us. Would it be everything we needed to know? Everything we wanted to know? Everything we thought we wanted to know but actually didn’t?

The meeting lasted a couple of hours if I remember correctly. It was intense. Lots of raised voices on my part. Lots of tears. Lots of emotions. Its was horrendous and freeing all at the same time. I was left disgusted, humbled, tricked, justified, acknowledged… and in the end thankful.

Everything I had asked for was taken into consideration. To be honest, I think I demanded all these answers. Turned out there were many things I didn’t know about. Many truly awful things that happened that night. There were things that I knew in my gut but was led to believe I was finding someone/something to blame. There were explanations that finally made sense as to why I couldn’t see Dan. Why I had been left for so long without knowing that it was Dan who had died. More importantly, there were things that had been put in place so that this would (hopefully) never have chance to happen again.*_{a version of this was recently released to the public}*

That evening, we all went out to dinner at one of Dan’s favourite restaurants. It was at that point we were given something so unbelievably special. A medal. A medal of honour. It is-as far as I’m aware- the second highest honour that can be given to a police officer. This beautiful medal was for him. Confirming just how serious his loss was taken. Confirming how he gave his life for a job that he literally gave his life to. It was a beautiful end to a tough day.

Where am I going with this?

The report into all this has been published in the last few days. Something that has taken almost seven years to happen. Multiple investigations. Multiple changes in regulations and processes that have been established and put into practice.

EPS aren’t hiding anything. They have no need to. I will post about it. It’s up to you if you want to read it…

C x