Ask me about my cervix.
I originally posted this on February 14, 2007 on my MySpace blog. I have cancer on my mind today since I attended a regional training session for my committee position with the American Cancer Society's Relay For Life event (I'm the Corporate Sponsorship chair for the 2007 - 2008 event). So, anyway, I remembered this blog post I wrote awhile back and thought I would share.
Well gang, I had my quarterly biopsy yesterday. I don't think anything will come back that is bad, but we shall see in about two weeks. I do have to have a CAT scan next week. I get to drink two bottles of that DELICIOUS contrast stuff. Mmmm, mmmm, good! I wonder if they could throw cherry syrup or something in there?
Life post-treatment is pretty odd. It's a series of weirdness followed by a period of normalcy followed by weirdness again.
Right after chemo and radiation, I experienced the most profound depression of my entire life. With a little help from caring family and friends - and Prozac - I got back on my feet, emotionally speaking. After getting involved with fundraising for the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life, I honestly feel BETTER than I have ever felt in my whole life. I feel like I am really giving something back to the community and helping people who are in much more dire circumstances than I was. This also brought me back to church and to a closer relationship with God. So, I am actually thankful for the experience.
Now, I am back to the anxiety phase again. Although I am not really worried that my biopsy will come back positive for cancer, the reality is that it very well could. It's not likely, but it could. So, from elation I move to guarded optimism tempered with bouts of doubt. I have to wait two weeks to find out anything. I get to relive the whole "you have cancer/hurry up and wait" experience. Hurry up and get this test but wait a week or two for the results. The sense of urgency to get you tested is so great that it makes it almost unbearable to wait for the results.
If any ladies out there are reading my blog, please do not put off any preventative steps and early detection tests. Get your mamograms on time, get your Pap tests yearly. I put off one year - one year because of some stupid work commitment coming up and just not rescheduling - and that probably meant the difference between a simple procedure (had I gone early) and chemo, radiation, surgery, and internal radiation. Oh yeah - plus the treatment put me in early menopause. Hot flashes are hilarious until they happen to you. Haha. They aren't that bad - it's a blast of energy that reminds me I am still alive and here to raise heck another day!
Besides a lesson that preventative measures are crucial, another lesson that cancer taught me is one in patience with others. For one, I just happened to be so lucky to get cervical cancer at the same freaking time that all the press came out about cervical cancer and how it's caused by a virus. Guess how many times people told me that my cancer is caused by a virus? Well, to be precise - not all types of cervical cancer are caused by the human papilloma virus. And, another fun fact . . . some sources estimate that over 50% of all adults in America carry the virus. Most people just carry it and never develop cancer or any other symptoms - or the symptoms go away. Just like chicken pox, it's a virus that remains in their system forever but may not ever bother them.
But, beyond hearing about how I must have a virus, I got the interesting experience of talking about my cervix with friends, family, coworkers, doctors, neighbors, and even strangers at Wal-Mart. Now, you may say, I get all that except for the stranger bit - why would a stranger know about your cervical cancer? Well gang, I had a PICC line in my arm for chemo. It's a sort of semi-permanent IV that went from my upper-left arm, snaking through my veins advancing through "increasingly larger veins, toward the heart until the tip rests in the distal superior vena cava or cavo-atrial junction" (I nabbed that definition from Wikipedia). So, I had this big-ass gauze crap on my arm with some little tubes hanging out. And, people would say, "hey - you hurt your arm playing tennis?" At first I felt torn on what to say because I hated the "O GOD, YOU'RE DOOMED!" face. But, at a certain point, I just started saying, "it's for chemo" and I would pull the tubes down through the gauze opening and explain what it was for. Most people were interested, and that's cool. I wasn't mad that they asked. It was only uncomfortable at first when they would ask what kind of cancer I had. Nowadays I am thinking about getting a t-shirt that says "Ask me about my cervix!" By the way people, you haven't lived until you have talked to your grandpa about your cervix.
Just some other recollections - I had to drop my drawers EVERY WEEKDAY for six weeks to get radiation. It's kind of embarrassing and scary at first. Then, you just learn to deal with it. You have to lie perfectly still while people position your naked pelvis just right for the radiation thingy to do it's job. And, let me tell you now . . . when you first start radiation, you think, "this isn't so bad." You don't feel anything while you are receiving radiation. But, by the end, your stomach is upset, your skin is burned and hurts. It sucks. Oh - and you get to give an account of your bodily functions every single day to a nurse and your radiation oncologist. Then when you go to weekly chemo, you tell your chemo nurse and your other oncologist. I hated radiation with a passion. I also had internal radiation - they put you to sleep to put it in, but they keep you awake to take it out. That was the most physically and emotionally painful experience of my entire life. And, the three days I had internal radiation, I had to be alone in my hospital room. A nurse came in with a Geiger counter - that was special. My visitors could only stay for a few minutes and they had to be behind a lead shield - I kid you not. I have never felt so alone. To top it off, something was wrong with the satellite TV! Talk about torture.
Now, this is what a ding dong I am: I kind of liked going to chemo. I didn't get sick, and I didn't lose my hair. I just sat there for about 5 hours every Friday and talked to the other ladies. We watched TV, movies, talked, laughed. I guess it was nice to be around people who knew what I was going through.
OK gang - I am done yacking about cancer for today. If you live in Pinellas County and you ever find yourself in need of an excellent gynecologic oncologist (I hope you don't ever need one!), drop me a line and I will give you the name of my doctor.
If you want to donate money to my American Cancer Society's Relay for Life fundraising for 2007 - 2008, drop me an email. I am also the Corporate Sponsorship Chair, so if you have a company that would like to sponsor the Clearwater event, please let me know.
Thanks.
