A total hard-hitter, the consultant asks me straight away "Do you know why you're here?" to which I reply, of course, for my wound check. (does he think I lost my brain as well as my womb??) No such luck. He then informs me that the biopsies have come back and have shown a large rare sarcoma in the fibroid, known as a leiomyosarcoma. Because it's so rare, I've been referred to the Royal Marsden, one of the best cancer hospitals in the world, which specialises in rare sarcomas. CT and PET scans are arranged before the nurse asks if I am alone.
True to form, Kev has turned his mobile off so we have to go down and locate him. He knows as soon as he sees me that things aren't right and hugs me tight but we go through things with the nurse before heading home with the horrifing task of telling the family the news. That opened the floodgates - how on earth can we go and tell our three wonderful children that I have cancer, after all I've gone through over the last couple of years? I'm numb.
Telling them isn't quite as traumatic as it could have been. Each of our children takes it on board in their own way but it's heartbreaking for me as a mum to watch. Telling my parents is another ordeal and watching my mum's face crumple as she fights to stay calm will stay with me forever.
But we are in this together, as a family and as a family we will take each day as it comes.