Cancer: The Long & The Short of It (1/27/2020)

It's been a minute since I've written anything.  

To be honest, it's been a minute since I've felt like being verbal.  I've spent the past couple of months feeling very introspective, in a "I don't want to talk," "I don't have the energy to analyze it," I just need to let this simmer" kind of way.  

It felt like the right thing to do and so I just went with it.  But now I'm ready to close this chapter and move on.  However, to go forward, I have to go back a bit.  

Here's what happened...

I stumbled into 2019 feeling worn down and not myself. My #1 goal was to value myself enough to pursue better health to increase my quality of life.  It was a rough road.  I was constantly sick, missing work and even in the hospital a couple times throughout the first half of the year.  

By the time June rolled around, I was in pain and vomiting all the time and exhausted from just getting out of bed.  I remember getting out of the truck at a campsite and puking into the bushes, rinsing my mouth and then setting up camp.  It was this instance, and the response of the people around me that made me step back and think, "This might not seem like a big deal to me, but other people are shocked.  Maybe I need to be more aggressive in looking for a solution."   So, I once again called my GP up and told her I wanted to run more tests and figure out what was wrong.  She relented to my request, but not before telling me, (quite matter-of-factly and with a outrageous amount of condescension), that there was nothing wrong and she was only agreeing to order tests to prove her point.  

And so the agonizing process of referrals, insurance, scheduling and submitting to test after test began.  And with each result, my GP became more and more haughty with her, "just like I told you" tone as she told me the results showed nothing wrong.  

In early August, I completed the last of the plethora of tests - an abdominal ultrasound - on a Tuesday.  What should have been a 5 minute scan took almost an hour.  The tech administering the test became visibly uncomfortable during the extended time as she took picture after picture.  I left wondering what she had seen that caused her demeanor to change. 

I didn't have to wait long.  My GP called 2 days later to inform me that once again, there was nothing wrong and the scan was clear.  I felt defeated.  I asked her what she recommended as the next steps.  She said, "Next steps?  What do you mean?"  To which I replied, "Well, I'm in pain, so what do we do now?"  I will never forget her reply...her voice dripping with annoyance and condescension, she huffed out:   "So you are sticking to the pain story?"  The implication being what?  That I was faking it?  Let me clearly state that I have NEVER, not once, asked her for nor been prescribed pain medication.  So what was going on?  She was certain that there was nothing wrong and I was so tired of fighting.  Maybe it really was all in my head.    

And then KISMET...as I heaved a defeated sigh of resignation to a lifetime of just being sick and feeling terrible, I happened to open my planner to make an entry.  There I found a reminder to review my goals from the beginning of the year.  And what did I find?  A reminder:  “I deserve to feel good. Get answers about my health. DON’T GIVE UP!”

So, I decided to give it one more try.  I searched for and contacted a new GP.  I was able to get into her office within 2 weeks.  Despite only booking a "meet and greet" appointment, I arrived with a collection of test results, a laundry list of symptoms and an set attitude that I wasn't going to be bullied into accepting her as my GP unless she was progressive and action oriented and at a bare minimum, willing to listen to my concerns and symptoms.  

She was prepared.  She had already looked at my medical history, reviewed all the test results from the past few month and took notes and asked questions as I "interviewed" her.  After a 15 minute conversation, she asked if I had any additional questions or concerns as we had some time left in our appointment.  I asked her what her plan of action would be if I decided to see her.  She replied that she was glad I asked that question.  She pointed to the abdominal scan - the last one that I had done and my previous care provider had claimed was clear - and said, "Regardless of what you decide about me treating you, this scan needs your immediate attention.  This is your priority.  You need to have an MRI done and see an OB Specialist right away.  

So, I jumped on her wagon.  She didn't hesitate.  I left her office with a detailed plan of action to include a few weeks of additional tests and an appointment with an OB Specialist.  Within one month, on a Monday morning, I stepped into the office of the OB Specialist and was told that we needed to do 3 biopsies.  On Thursday morning, 3 days later, I was sitting in a drive-thru on my way to work listening to the OB tell me I had cancer.  Uterine, Endometrial, Ovarian and Cervical Cancers.  

For obvious reasons, things get a little fuzzy at this point in my recollection.  Suddenly my world was full of big, scary words like, CANCER, ONCOLOGIST, CHEMO, RADIATION, ADJUVANT THERAPY, INVASIVE, MALIGNANT, PATHOLOGY and so many other words and phrases that I never imagined I would be so concerned with.  

I had all sorts of worry - worry that I couldn't even really digest.  I'd been searching for answers and feeling bad for so long - what if it was too far along?  How was Doug going to cope and deal with all this?  How can I make it easier on him?  Will I lose my hair?  How come I have cancer and I didn't lose any weight?  Am I ready to look my mortality in the face?  How do I tell people?  Do I tell people?  Will I lose my job?  Will this be the last time I do this or that?  Are my living will and all accompanying medical and legal documents up to date?  Will it hurt? ... The questions in my head were on an endless loop that I couldn't stop or slow down long enough to really answer any one of the questions.  

Three days after the diagnosis, I was sitting in an oncology office that had been carefully arranged to feel cozy.  It was decorated to be reminiscent of a comfy living room and I HATED it.  All I could think was, "I HATE this room.  This room is trying too hard!"   

And then, in what felt like an eternity and a mere second at once, I had completed all the pre-op tests and procedures, I was clearing my desk and preparing to take a medical leave from work and I was checking into the hospital.  

Today, 80 days later, we believe the surgery to have been successful in removing the cancers.  The recovery has had ups and downs.  It didn't go at all how I planned.  (Once again I am the student in needing to learn that my expectations and assumptions are not reality.)  But I feel fortunate to say, despite a disastrous start to finding the problem, it was caught soon enough that chemo and radiation are not currently required and my oncologist feels confident of a cure.  

I've found out a lot about myself in the past year.  Just in the months since my diagnosis and surgery, I've learned even more.  I've spent an excessive amount of time contemplating my experience and what I can learn from it and how I can grow as a result.  What, if any, should be the soapbox that I should step up on to?

I think back to the start of 2019 and the choice I made to write down my "better health" goal.  I know there is power in putting your intention out there and solidifying it further by writing it down.  And I know that if I hadn’t come across the reminder later in the year, I probably would have just resigned myself to not pursuing my health when one health care professional failed me.  It scares me to think that the end result of that choice may have cost me my life.  So, mindful goals and actively revisiting them and working at them - yep.  I'm pro goal setting. 

After my diagnosis, I gorged myself on as much information as I could take in.  I came across areas that could use refinement so as to make the process more understandable to the newly diagnosed.  I also sometimes feel a deep, strong desire to don a demo suit, sneak into the oncologists office and destroy that "trying-to-hard" room.  But still, not the soapboxes I desire to stand upon.  

Cancer research, funding, support groups, awareness ribbons...yes, yes, yes and yes.  I'm pro all of that.  But my message, my soapbox to stand on and rant about is this...

TRUST YOUR GUT & BE YOUR OWN ADVOCATE

No one cares about you like you care about yourself.  No one knows you like you know yourself - your mind and your body.  No one can claim to know how or what you feel.  You don't need someone to legitimize your feelings.  If you don't get the answers and help that you believe you need, keep looking for someone who will listen.  Don't let someone else's ineptness cause you to give up.  Don't let someone else convince you of something that may possibly kill you.  Stand up for yourself.  Listen to your body and don't be swayed out of what you know to be true for you.  

And so I gratefully live to ascend any soapbox of my choosing another day.  That is the long & the short of it...