Well, this is the first post about my cancer journey, but I am actually an old pro at this. This was not by design; I was originally deathly afraid of the "c" word, and avoided anyone who had it, as if they were lepers and I could potentially catch it if I were in their presence. I could not relate, and it scared me too much to even know what to say to someone who had it. I missed a great deal of opportunity to be of comfort and love to someone who really needed it. I am ashamed of that attitude but I've since forgiven myself, and I now really love and appreciate the people who have a heart for those of us who are members of the cancer club.
Be very careful of what you are afraid of: likely, it will come and bite you fully in the butt. God has a way of bringing us around face to face to deal with crap that we fear the most.
Not that I did much to avoid it; I smoked for a few years when my son was born until he was around 5 and told mommy & daddy that 'smoking makes you dead'. One day, I had enough and just quit, cold-turkey. However, I also developed some self-esteem issues resulting from some struggles in my life, so I lost weight and baked in the sun until I was darker than anyone around me. Tanning, my friends, is an addiction. So is exercise. Friends at Jazzercise were telling me I was going too far, but tanning beds were such solace away from active little kids, and admittedly, I looked pretty hot. In 2000, I started paying the price with non-melanoma skin cancer, and still deal with it now - 7 surgeries on face and neck so far.
I was diagnosed with breast cancer at stage 2 in 2002, upon a routine breast exam. I'd been getting mammograms since I was 36 - here I was at 44, and the female GP doctor happened across it and saved my life. I got treatment (2 surgeries, chemo, radiation - the works) and was seemingly cancer-free after about 9 months of treatments and 5 years of Tamoxifen. I did everything EXCEPT eat healthy (I allowed myself to gain back all the weight I had lost in my tanning days, and then some. My excuse was self-pity for what I had been through, but this is truly stupid thinking).
I recently found the doctor who found my tumor while searching for her on Facebook and I was able to thank her, as I had a year after treatment. I don't know whether I should be telling her that I am once again facing this monster, after 9 years of seemingly cancer-free existence.
Never turn your back on this monster - it can hide itself very well, and you are NOT cured just because it hasn't shown up for several years. This is what I learned this week.
6 months ago, my CA 27-29 blood test was missed by the lab because it was written on the 2nd line of the order. My oncologist said that was fine since I had been doing so well anyway, to just forget about it. I trusted him and so I did, happily ignorant of what was growing inside of me. Since last October, I had been feeling strange things but attributed it to menopause, and arthritis, and aging. My blood tests (not for cancer) were coming back wacky so the rheumatologist took a closer look. All he could find is that my calcium seemed to be off, so he prescribed more calcium. I had weird aches and pains in the hips that caused me to not be able to climb stairs well. I also had an occasional stitch in my side whenever I bent over to pick something up from a seated position; it took my breath away, but it was so random that again, I thought not much of it. In addition to the rheumatologist, I have a cardiologist for PVC's of my heart. My OB/Gyn couldn't find anything unusual when I saw him last year. They all felt it was my weight and the aches and pains would subside when I lost some weight. Problem was, it hurt to exercise, my legs ached and I couldn't walk that well.
I just got my blood test and was completely unprepared for my oncologist's call. He said my CA 27-29 numbers are way up (normal is below 35, I'm at 116) and was I feeling pain or discomfort? I told him I had mentioned it to him at the last exam but of course, we didn't suspect anything then. He said that I need a PET scan right away and then to come and see him. He says that if it is cancer in the bones or other organs, there are many options he has to treat it and keep it at bay. Hello, I'm not OK with Stage 4 cancer! Or keeping it at bay - I want it GONE, and I am determined to do all within my power to make it happen. I am one tough cookie once I know what I'm fighting. So - I will know in 4 days what this is, and we will go from there.
Here's the thing - due to the aches and pains, I pretty much know I'm dealing with a Stage 4 situation. I have done a lot of crying and am pretty much living on Xanax until I see the doc for the results. I will probably be fine once I know what the plan is. Well, maybe not fine, but adequate to move forward. My family is believing the test is wrong - I'm trying to prepare them for it being bad. It absolutely kills me that they are so affected by what I go through. I understand completely, but it's better for me to think that they'll be OK, can move forward and let me do what I need to do while they do what they need to do. I can't carry the worry for all of us. I intend to survive; but even if I don't, I'm working on coming to peace with having had the last 9 years to finish raising my kids, seeing them in a good place, and knowing that my hubby will also be OK. We've had a lot of cancer loss in this family, surprisingly not my genetic pool, but it's been hard on my husband. I hate like hell to be another case in his life, someone he loves and wanted to grow old with who may not be able to. I have to know that he'll be OK, so that I can do what I need to do to finish well with whatever time I've got left.
And as for the kids, I would love to see them married and meet the grandkids, but I have this feeling in my heart, this knowledge, that I will know their kids and I will be here to witness the special moments. And I hope my heart won't break when they have their dark moments, and I can't be there to help them - but by then I expect that God will have explained to me why these dark moments are necessary, and I will know how the story ends - so it will be OK.
I have lived almost 53 years and many have left far sooner - brilliant minds that never got to be proven, people who never got to be lovers, moms or dads. I cannot be selfish for I have lived a great deal and a very happy existence, with great outcomes. I am living the life I love and not everyone can say that. So feeling sorry for myself is maybe just a little part of this, as I want to spend time with my husband kid-free and do some fun things together. But we have been together for so long and lived such a deep life, that it's really OK. I intend to fight and stick around as long as I can. I just need the diagnosis in order to know what comes next. So I take my half a Xanax, I wait, and I pray a lot and shamelessly ask for prayers over me. That heals my soul which is what I will take with me when my body fails me. We all must go sometime - I've had 53 years and I am grateful.
