Today marks an anniversary for me.
I’ve debated posting about it. But – I get asked about it a lot. To be honest, it’s a milestone greater than anything else I’ve overcome, gone through, experienced… whatever. It was hard-earned. And it’s what’s on my mind right now. So I’m sharing.
A year ago I was at the absolute worst point in my life. I had never, ever felt worse. Never could have imagined the pain and worry (and I’ve given birth twice after being in labor for 14 hours with each one!). 😀
In a matter of a couple months…
Most people want to know what kind of cancer I had, how I found out and what “the journey” was like. I get that. That’s what I would want to know, too. Most women worry about that kind of stuff. We have to go for so many exams each year, just to check into this kind of crap. It’s always present.
How it Started
I had miserable menstrual cycles since I was about 38. Each year they became increasingly worse. Beyond heavy. Painful. Just yucky. Possible peri-menopause I was told. It got worse over time. For a few months it was constant… no break. Additionally, I just didn’t feel all that great. I was sooooo tired, cold all the time, achy for no reason – just all kinds of things that simply made me feel “off”. I felt my hormones HAD to be out of whack. I had so many tests done. They checked my blood and hormone levels because I insisted they do so. I know they all felt I was a lunatic, but I couldn’t get past how I felt. The tests always came back “fine”. Every pap I had was always fine.
This went on for 5 years.
Finally, I had had enough. I needed at least for the periods and the horrible weeks they encompassed to stop. I told my OBGYN that I wanted an ablasion to end the whole thing. He agreed it would be the best thing to do. {He had actually suggested it years before.} I love my OBGYN. I’ve been going to him for 22 years! He did a biopsy to rule out cancer for insurance purposes. This was Thanksgiving week 2010. He said the results would be back within a week or two, then the insurance company would approve the procedure and I could do the ablasion during Christmas break.
A Diagnosis & Treatment
He called me the week after Thanksgiving. Left a message to call him back. In all those years, he had NEVER called me before. I got his message on Friday night and wasn’t able to reach him until Tuesday morning (he doesn’t work on Mondays). As soon as I got to work, I gave his office a call. I was on hold for a bit. He picked up less than 2 minutes before the start bell rang. “I’m sorry, Traci. You have uterine cancer.” Then he explained a bunch of stuff to me… my brain couldn’t take it all in.
I can’t explain the feeling very well. I have never experienced anything like it before or since. It’s kinda like being sucked backwards… in a vacuum. Everything is moving around you at normal speed… but you feel like you are in slow motion. So odd. So surreal.
I hung up with him. I let my students in the door. Got them started on their morning work. I stepped into the center pod and called my husband and my mom. Cried a little. Mostly I was just in shock. So, I taught the rest of the day. I felt weird.
My surgery on December 23rd, 2010 removed my enlarged uterus, tumor and an ovary. The pathology on what was removed told them how serious the cancer actually was. This wasn’t typical uterine cancer. This wasn’t something any of them had treated before.
Radiation, a second surgery (other ovary) and then chemo followed. I was allergic to the first type of chemo cocktail they gave me. It resulted in excruciating, bone-crushing pain throughout every single speck of my body that lasted 8 days with each round, beginning the evening after my morning treatment. This was on top of the typical awfulness that comes with chemo. They gave me morphine for the pain. The morphine made me feel horrible, but didn’t touch the pain. {This chemo-cocktail is what is given to most breast, uterine, and ovarian cancer patients.
I was told many, many times that I was weird. Weird cancer, weird reaction to chemo, weird, weird, weird. This allergic reaction is rare, just like the dumb cancer.} By the 3rd round they started me on a different type of chemo. The pain was far less, but I had to go in for chemo treatment every week instead of every 3rd week. I was on a zillion steroids to help me deal better with the chemo. They made me puff up like the Pillsbury Dough Boy. I quickly gained 50 lbs in a few weeks.
UPSC
This rare cancer is called UPSC (Uterine Papillary Serous Carcinoma) with giant cells. {fancy, eh?} It’s a rare, highly-agressive form of cancer with horrible statistics. I mean… the wort kind of statistics.
So I ignore them. 😀 No one has found a treatment for it yet that seems to fight it very well. Studies are not done on it like breast cancer or anything like that because it is so rare. That’s not where the money is. However, the few times it has been seen, it has mostly occurred in women in their 70’s and 80’s. I feel that is a plus for me. Although there is a high-statistical possibility that it will show up in another part of my body, I know there is no reason to dwell on that. So 97% of the time, I don’t.
Lots of people have been touched by that nasty C-word. Many of you have shared that you have fought your own battles and helped family members through it as well. It just sucks. Plain and simple. I have so much empathy for anyone dealing with it in any form.
I didn’t want it to, but it changed me. Many good changes… a few are kind of crappy. The physical changes are the the hardest for me to overcome. Some days, the emotional/worry changes cloud my world. However, I’m grateful for the positives.
What I learned:
- My husband is the MOST amazing human being on the planet.
- Being a teacher is what I had always thought as what DEFINED me. I learned from all of my students and their parents that they loved me as a person first. Teaching is what I do – not who I am. The love was overwhelming to me. The day I left work to start chemo was a tough day.
- My friends truly love me.
- My family is incredibly fabulous.
- Life goes on. 😀
- Living in fear is not living.
- LAUGHTER is a necessity (This has always been a rule of mine – but my appreciation for it only grew)
Life Moves On
So here I am today, exactly one year after my last chemo treatment.
Now, I appreciate:
- life more
- the little things
- the ability to let things go way easier now. I swore I would never let the dumb stuff get me down ever again….but life goes on and sometimes the dumb stuff still annoys the hell out of me. 🙂 But I try not to get stressed out…. stress makes ya sick, ya know. 😉
- that my scans are still clear and that I feel great
- the pain of chemo is behind me.
- that the biopsy caught the cancer before it was way worse.
- being fat and alive is better than being skinny and dead… even if my oncologist has to remind me of this at every visit. 😀
I appreciate that right around the time I was beginning to emerge from the severe fog that is “chemo-brain” last fall, I found the teacher-blog world. Even though I learned teaching does not define all that I am, it is where my passion lies. To find so many wonderful friends who feel the same is so heart-lifting. I appreciate your inspiration and devotion to what we all love to do.
I leave you with this: Don’t ignore your body’s signals…you know your body better than anyone – even the doctors. And, most importantly…enjoy all your moments – big and small.
Have a fabulous week, stay cool, and go play!
