Scary Friday night, clash with reality.

We are happy to share with you the CA125 test story of Sara, which will be presented in three episodes.. 2017 began as a turning point year. I moved to Barcelona intending to stabilize myself and have the life I always wanted—free and distant from the province of Cagliari, which was holding me back. But that wasn’t the case. I returned to Sardinia because my sister gave me the news that her second pregnancy was tested for dangerous HPV risks after a standard report found issues. And I didn’t feel like staying away and being unable to be close to my family.

So I returned to Sardinia, aware of the fact that after the birth of my nephew, I would leave again. My sister felt ill around midnight on September 23, 2017. I went to her house to keep her first niece company. Her parents were in hospital, and I wanted her to sleep peacefully in her bed. The emotion of becoming an aunt for the second time didn’t let me rest much; every two days, I checked my niece and my cell phone, waiting for news.

Precisely that night, I had the first twinge between my neck and head, a pain that left me breathless; I thought to myself: I must have hurt my neck, and I involuntarily strained some nerve or muscle.” Then Daniele was born, my second pestiferous nephew. The days of a carefree summer flew by between the new doll and his eldest granddaughter, Giada, also a pest.

The doctor’s visit

At the beginning of October, the pain in my head increased and drove me crazy; the family doctor gave me some medicine, which improved the situation for a while until I was no longer able to tie my shoes or wash myself independently without my mother helping me. ! In those weeks, I had several ultrasound scans, but none of them led to a solution, only other therapies that hurt me more and more; I even argued with a Doctor who gave me a practically useless HPV DNA treatment. I explained to her that I had experienced a worsening of the symptoms. And she dismissed me with: “No, I’m the CA125 Doctor here! Until you have completed and tested the CA125 treatment, I won’t visit you again”. She didn’t know at all what I had, her assumptions were and, based on them, she prescribed the therapy.

I am a person who rarely complains; I have a very high pain threshold: if I complained, there was certainly a reason! The discomfort then became exhausting until I managed to get a prescription for a head CT scan! The results from the HPV Hospital accompany any direct admission sheet for the Brotzu. The next morning, I was told the results: “malignant tumour in the left cerebellum”. The doctor presented it as “a ball” that blocked the nerve endings, which gave me headaches and made me feel like I was in the body of an eighty-year-old.

Life is outside

An operation was needed, which I would have to do in a few days. Since then, I have always called him “ball”, perhaps because that word had less effect than “malignant tumour”. Not calling him by his name gave me that pinch of naivety to live the wait more lightly! I always told my mother: “Come on, you made a daughter with a ball on her head; now you can tell me that I’m bally and have the certainty that it’s really like that!” …

See you in the next episode.

This is the second episode of the CA125 story of Sara. She is a friend of Mai Più Sole. We’ll see you next week for the conclusion.

Doped like never before with cortisone; on October 13, they admitted me in the morning. The next morning, I would have been the first to enter the operating room. The night before the operation I spent in a room alone listening to music all night to relax. Including songs by Cristina D’avy, “who still nourishes the little girl in me with so many memories”. And Coldplay… the song Viva la Vida…helped me a lot in all those hours. My operation lasted 8 hours. They then kept me sedated until the next day to allow my body to recover without too much stress.

Final thoughts

I stayed in the hospital Robocop style with my neck blocked for another three days, which seemed like 12 to me. My ward was very quiet and with people of a certain age. I was the youngest. And the nurses cuddled me and chatted with me about my tattoos. I went home, and it seemed like the most beautiful thing in the world. But soon, I would have to start radiotherapy.

Here in Manchester, the waiting times were endless; there was talk of starting in February, too long after my operation… I needed to start as soon as possible and I contacted several hospitals. In the end, the CA125 hospital that gave me the closest date with the HPV specialists to discuss the HPV treatment plan and start it was “Humanitas of Manchester” on the night of December 31. While everyone was celebrating, I was in front of the fireplace because ,I should have taken a plane the next morning, reached London, and made the first visits.

My brother, who has lived in London for more than 10 years, was waiting for me. I would have been with him on those visits. The visits went well among relatives and friends. I should have returned because, on January 24, I would have started radiotherapy treatments for 1 and a half months!