The OB/GYN was very nice and assured me that everything would be fine. I had a low-level of abnormal cells, a negative HPV test, and my exam the year before had been fine. There were four possible levels, the bottom two generally clear themselves up in a matter of time and just need to be monitored. The top two are more severe, with the top being the ultimate - cancer. My doctor was confident that I would be in the bottom two, most likely the bottom one. She was 99% sure that it would not be cancer; but to be thorough, I would need a biopsy.
On July 10, I was called back to her office for the results. She looked me straight in the eyes and said, in the nicest sweetest tones, "you have cancer." Just. Like. That. "You have cancer." She spoke of oncologists and hysterectomies and tests and more biopsies and surgeries and treatments and radiation and scans and the need for quick action, but it was all a mish-mash of sound against the repeating backdrop - "you have cancer."
--------------------------
Below are the email updates that I sent out in the beginning, before switching to this blog.
Wednesday, 16 July 2008
I had my first appointment with the oncologist today. Very nice man - let me ask 1000 questions and wasn't offended that I didn't want to look at the color pictures in the anatomical chart book :)
I am scheduled for a CAT scan on Monday and an exam under anesthesia on Wednesday. Once both of those are done, he will know what stage my cancer is and what my treatment options are. He really couldn't answer most of my 1000 questions today, but he listened to them all and reiterated that once the CAT scan & exam are done, he can answer most of them. And I won't forget to ask any because I have them all written down in my Vera Bradley notebook (I am such a dork!).
Wednesday, 23 July 2008
I have had quite a Fear Factor couple of days - sans Joe Rogan and the big cash prize.
Monday, fear factor #1 was that I had to drink two bottles of barium suspension "vanilla smoothee" (it says so on the label but they LIE) to prep for my CAT scan. One 10-oz bottle at 12:30, the other 10-oz bottle at 1:00. Then when I got to the CAT scan, fear factor #2 was lying there calmly while they tried 3 times to get the IV in. But the rest of the scan went fine, and other than being simultaneously nauseous AND hungry most of the day I was alright.
Tuesday was a fun day! All I had to do was face fear factor #3 - drinking 10 ounces of cherry flavored magnesium citrate. That's laxative to you and me. Wonderful stuff, I tell ya. And to make it that much more challenging, I wasn't allowed to eat anything all day! Yipee! But MT Jeanne & Troy visited, so that made the afternoon a lot nicer :)
Today, I had my "procedure" - exam under anesthesia. That whole thing was fear factor #4. Only one needle stick, so that was good, but I'm no good with fluids going in or out so none of it was pleasant. I think my doctor came & talked to me, but I might have imagined it. I didn't have contacts or glasses, so it was all a big blur. Plus I was highly medicated. He did a cone biopsy, but that's all I know for sure.
What, you might ask, is the prize for completing all these fear factor challenges???
I don't have to see another doctor until Aug 1st :)
Friday, 1 August 2008
Today was the big day - the day of my staging. I had gone a week without any medical involvement and I was good and ready to get going on some treatment. Or at least I was until yesterday afternoon. Then the nerves set in.
My sister Diane came up (her birthday was yesterday), which provided a nice diversion. But the nerves were still there. Even Vitamin-X didn't help. I was having trouble falling asleep, and when I did I had awful dreams. At about 4am I woke up and noticed that there was a light on in the other room. Diane had fallen asleep reading; I tiptoed through, turned off the light, and went back to bed. And then I had the following dream:
Diane and I were at MT Bee's house for some shindig - there were tents and tables set up in the back yard. We got our plates of food and went to sit near MO Leo and Bert Labbe. After talking and eating for a while, MO Leo said something like "hey Linda, I thought you didn't eat pig?" I looked at my plate and it was pork. I was HORRIFIED! I ran up the stone steps to the bathroom (think of a 6-stall public restroom located in the master suite) to find that they were all in use. So I puked up my pork shoulder on the top stone step. Everyone was grossed out - I started scrambling all around looking for paper towels to clean it up, but there were NO PAPER TOWELS! ANYWHERE!!!
Needless to say, I woke up feeling a bit nauseated and then the nerves set in.
Finally, it was time for my appointment. I will spare you further anecdotes and get right down to it.
I have stage 2 cervical cancer. For you look-it-up-yourself types, it is the squamous cell carcinoma variety. The two main treatment options are radical hysterectomy (including pelvic lymph system) OR radiation. There is a reluctance to do both because of the healing complications with whatever procedure comes second. Before either can occur, I have to be completely healed from the cone biopsy he did on the 23rd, which generally takes about 4 weeks.
My next appointment is on August 15, and between now and then my oncologist will meet with my pathologist to go over all the biopsy results and scans and tests and data etc. and decide which treatment will best suit my case. Surgery is generally preferred because of the physical removal of the whole infested bit. But he doesn't want to jump to surgery if I will need radiation anyway afterward.
So I'm still in treatment limbo, though at least I know now definitively where I'm at and that I'll be taking one of two forks in the road. He didn't tell me anything I didn't expect to hear, including the part when he said that my case was enigmatic and outside his expectations and didn't follow conventions - heck, I hear that all the time! He also commented on my sense of humor, which I guess has been kicked into overdrive now that I have something to be funny about. (Wasn't that vomit dream hillarious???)
Friday, 15 August 2008
Getting right to the point:
I am stage 2B. Treatment is radiation with chemo. I will have surgery Monday - a laparoscopic ovarian transposition to move my ovaries out of the path of radiation. After that, I'll meet with the radiologist to discuss the specifics of my treatment. It will be 5-6 weeks of external radiation 5 days a week. With that, I'll have a once a week low-dose chemo drug (Cisplatin). After the 5 or 6 weeks, I'll get a 1-2 week break. Then I'll do 5 internal treatments of high-dose radiation once or twice a week but no chemo. He said generally, side effects of this treatment are minimal.
Sunday I get to have another day of no eating but instead drinking 20 oz of magnesium citrate (that special cherry-flavored laxative) in preparation for Monday's surgery. Fabulous. And for every oz of that I drink, I drink 8 oz of clear liquid. By the end of the day, I'll be like a human water balloon! I may be able to come home Monday, but there is a possibility that I will have to stay overnight. I hope to be back to work Wednesday.
So that's about it. It is somewhat unreal to me that I'm going through all this because physically, I feel fine. No pain, no symptoms. But here I am, heading down a road I never imagined I would be taking. I'm hoping for a smooth ride...
14 comments:
I pray for you at night. I know everything will be ok, but before I go to bed I close my eyes and send you healing energies to strengthen your body. Yes I'm very weird, but I believe in energy so if I hold you in my thoughts and heart and focus maybe I can connect to your cosmic energy.
Tracey
thanks for the info :-) and don't be so nervous. remember: fortune favors the favorite aunts. i'm sure i've heard that said somewhere...
I’m encouraged by the fact that you can put some humor into an otherwise unhumorous situation, but I guess that’s part of the “childlike spirit” that we admire in you. Some day in the not too distant future, I hope you can look back on this and see even more humor in it when you are completely CURED.
Mom
I am hoping that things go well for you and if you make it through more tests, I will give you a lollipop... ;>) LOL
Dont lose your sense of humor.
Hang tough. You are going to be fine.
(Its the road to fine that is going to be a bitch.)
Linda,
I am so sorry you have to go through all these scary things. Hopefully you get good news from all this. Keep us posted.
Lorel Nicolette Hartley
I'm sending healing energies and dream gems your way to help deflect all the bad ones away.
This is only a speed bump is the life of Linda!!! You are at the bottom of the speed bump "fixin" to go over ... all will smooth sailing after you go over it! As far as your diagnosis, you always have been an overachiever!!! My gut talks alot to me as I'm sure yours does to you ... and mine is telling me, well, you know the pep talk, so put on some rockin music and dance girl!!
the puke dream was amazing;
almost like you had this thing (pork)/(cancer) in your body, you had no idea how it got there, it totally grossed you out and once you realized it was in you, you had to get rid of it quickly.
Of course, all the doors to places where you could get rid of this awful thing were seemingly "closed" to you, so you got rid of it anyway, just like you had to, no matter what-- in order to survive the way you believe in living - porkless/cancerless.
Boy, I can read so much into that dream; but the bottom line is you got rid of it, right in front of everyone; they witnessed your healing.
The "grossed out" part from the people in your family, I think signifies that people were shocked to find out you had the cancer (pork) in your body and seeing it leave so suddenly was a great shock also.
Puke/cancer/vomitting it all out; your being totally horrified that you had this "pork"/cancer in you was unacceptable to you you were getting rid of it, no matter where you were, or who was watching and in your own way.
I'm a big believer in dreams and their significance. I truly believe you are a survivor and will do whatever it takes to make yourself well. And you will take the steps necessary when and how you feel they need to be taken, no matter what other people's reactions will be. (As you know, most people have "good" advice to give you and you alone must decide whose advice to take and what decisions to make about your own body.) You go, girl! Vomit it all out!!!!
If the chemo makes you sick...you know what to do. (Jah Live!)
I am praying for you and so is Michelle.
I hope the puppy pictures cheered you up a little.
The turbo-lax isn't that bad if you get to stay at home.
If you try to go out...well, don't.
So when can you resume tequila?
Hope that had you laughing.
Jer
I can’t say that I know what you’re going through, but I can say that we will be you in spirit, weather your journey is a smooth one or a rough one. We are thankful for your good attitude, we love you and are praying earnestly for you.
As I have said before, this will be a ride for you, one I would have hoped you never had to take. But.....I feel very sure that you will come out the other side feeling well and finished with cancer.
Hey Linda,
Julie sent me your blog today. I am so sorry you have to go thru this...Just a lot to go thru the next 4 or 5 months...but you will get there. We are all praying for you.
Kathy Perry
Linda,
They say (and some have even proved) that laughter heals. I believe that. I also believe that you, with your humor, courage and willingness to take this straight on, will prove once more,that indeed it does.
Count me in this group of people surrounding you with love and the best of wishes.
Abbe Dow
Dear Linda: I was so sorry to hear that you have the big "C". but you have an even bigger spirit and determination that will get you through this. They say the tough times only make you stronger, so I figure you can punch the daylights out of this. Laughter is the best medicine so try to keep your sence of humor when you need it MOST.
Luv From your cousin Diane in Ontario.
Post a Comment