As part of my need to feel in control I’ve wholeheartedly embraced all alternative therapies. Well, I’m not wearing musk yet, my hair is not in braids and it’s too cold for jesus sandals.  But I’m doing virtually everything else.

Part of this philosophy is to use the cancer to treat the cancer.  So when my homoeopath suggested I ask for a slide of my biopsy, I took great pleasure in crafting a finely tuned missive to the PA of the consultant surgeon.  I wish I’d seen his face when he read it!

At our meeting with the team involved in my surgery, the consultant surgeon pushed a piece of paper with some scant instructions into Craig’s hand.  ‘Pathology 2, Dr Di Palma’.  It was made clear this was an unusual request.  Undaunted, we set off on our new hospital adventure, to find the ‘path 2’ building.  At one particularly confusing turn – neither Craig or I are blessed with a great sense of direction – we met a delightful old dear who had worked at the hospital for many years.  She was very keen to know where pathology lab 2 was located herself and, after asking directions, she took us into the bowels of the building, popping us out – like Alice and the white rabbit – next to the main incinerator. She then scuttled off, delighted with her new morsel of knowledge.

‘Path 2’ is a modern building by Royal County Hospital standards, and after pressing the array of dizzyingly labelled buttons (none of which mentioned pathology directly) we were let in by a workman welding a paintbrush.  We came to a floor that had a tiny little Christmas tree and a bell. A young girl appeared, proudly wearing a knitted Christmas jumper, and was startled to see “real” people  in the building! She made a couple of calls and led us down into the basement, along a narrow newly painted corridor and into the offices of Doctor Silvana Di Palma.

This was the moment where I absolutely, knew I was going to be fine. As she ushered us to sit down I looked at this powerhouse of a woman and was totally impressed. From her perfectly coiffed hair, to her beautifully made up face, to her Dolce&Gabbana heels and chic fitted outfit, this woman oozed class and passion. And she was interested in me and what we were going to use the slide for.  She unwrapped it carefully from its paper and presented it to me solemnly; “the cell is cut on the diagonal”, she intoned, sounding like a cross between Sophia Loren and Gina Belluchi. “The pink pieces are healthy, the blue rings are carcinoma”.  She paused.  I could find nothing to say.  I was looking at pink blobs and blue blobs, and desperately wanting to impress her.  My mind itself had turned into a blob!

She seemed to sense that I did not share her passion, and my diplomatic husband valiantly came to my rescue by asking about the black and white photos on the wall.  They are her childhood village in a small part of Italy near the Umbrian mountains.  Smart, talented, beautiful and grounded; I wanted to ask her round for dinner!

So, as a scientist she wanted to know specifically how we were planning on using this slide.  I waffled on, talking nonsense, seeing my new best friend evaporate before my eyes.  Eventually I blurted, “I don’t know how it works, I don’t care how it works, what is important to me is that I’m doing absolutely everything to eradicate this and make the cancer go away”.  She patted my hand and gave me her email address.  “Stay in touch”, she said.  “I understand and support you in what you are doing and I’ll look out for your cancer cells and deal with your case personally”.

I am going to invite Silvana for dinner, along with my smart, bright girlfriends.  We will have much to talk about; I’ll be happy to discuss colours, just not pink and blue blobs!