Words fail me. I can’t adequately express how much your comments and emails have meant to me. I cried a lot yesterday but 80% of it was from feeling overwhelmingly supported and loved. Thank you for acknowledging me, my feelings, and the tremendous suckitude that is this current situation I find myself in. Mr. Darcy, my anchor, is equally blown away and keeps telling me “you are being carried on a sea of love.” Which makes me cry again but in a good way.
Yesterday was my mom’s birthday. In her card I joked that I was sorry for getting cancer instead of getting her a real gift. IF I LOSE MY SENSE OF HUMOR YOU KNOW SOMETHING IS VERY WRONG. I also told her that I learned to be strong by watching her so there should be no doubt that I will kick this cancer’s ass.
My six year old nephew overheard my mom on the phone talking to my aunt about my diagnosis. He is very perceptive and started asking what is cancer and “does that mean TeeTee is going to die?”
So when my sister asked if I’d talk to him about it, I took a deep breath and said of course. I used the dog as a ruse to get him to sit with me and help me comb the tangles out of his fur. As we worked together as a team I asked him if he’d heard grandma talk about me on the phone earlier. He looked at me with big eyes and said yes.
“Do you want to know what cancer is?”
He nodded silently while patting the dog.
“Well, it’s a sickness I have in the part of my body where babies are made. I might have another surgery. But, I promise I’m going to be okay. I’m not going to die.”
“But you know what?”
“I AM going to need a lot of hugs. Can you do that for me?”
And then he threw his arms around me.
If Finn is the closest I come to having a kid of my own, I will still count myself blessed a thousand times over. I love that kid so, so much.
I called both gyno oncology doctors offices yesterday because I am THAT patient. It is absolutely terrifying to sit with the news that you have cancer and not actually be able to do anything about it immediately. At least for me. I am not an idle person. I do not enjoy the sitting still and the feeling all the feelings. (Yes, Universe. I get it.)
I was able to schedule an appointment for next Wednesday with one doctor. I had to wait until then because I wanted to see one of the two female doctors on staff. I researched them both and they are very highly regarded in their field and do laparoscopic hysterectomies (if it comes to that). I just feel more comfortable with a female doctor in this situation because I think they can get the emotional component more so than a guy can.
I called the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance under the guise of ensuring my records had been sent over, I really just wanted to see how soon they could get me in. When the nice receptionist said my case was under review and they would be calling me Friday or Monday to make an appointment, I started to cry.
“Was there something specific you needed to know?”
“No. I’m sorry. It’s just that I only found out yesterday that I have cancer and so I’m anxious to talk to someone about it.”
“I understand.” Then she explained why they have the review process and how it ensures I am getting quality care from the get-go. Which I fully understand logically but in my heart I am like “please hurry up and tell me there are solutions that will give me some peace.”
“I’m sure you get people crying on the phone to you all the time but I apologize for not holding it together. I completely understand why you have your process.”
“Most patients say that the waiting is the hardest part. I’m sorry.”
And so I wait for a call to hopefully get in to see someone next week.
My gyno called to check on me. She’s very supportive. She told me that she’d talked to colleagues and they had known women in similar situations as me who had been able to have another conization that allowed them to delay or avoid a hysterectomy and be able to conceive under careful watch. It helped to hear that and also have her say, “Oh honey, noooo. That’s not going to happen.” when I said I was trying not to think about dying.
I’ve also read up on radical trachelectomy which could be an option if the cancer is just in the cervix and not in the uterus. There are a lot of variables and each case is unique so I won’t know until I talk to the doctors next week. Until then, Mr. Darcy and I are working on getting my meditation/music room set up so I can have a peaceful place all my own. My priorities are definitely in razor-sharp clarity and I’m only spending my energy on what matters to me. I’m trying to be gentle with myself and I’m wearing a lot of waterproof mascara.