Skip to main content

A roaring river...

As cancer survivors, we all have a worry that lingers in the back of our minds waiting for bad news. Most of the time we will be told things are good, keep moving forward. We feel a sigh of relief and move on until the next test or scan or weird symptom.
We all have those moments. Moments of fear and worry, especially when waiting on a test or scan results. As with all things, there are times the results come back indicating something is wrong. I had that moment only a month ago.
Oops... it's been awhile!
I had honestly forgot about going to my GYN. I mean, I go to so many doctors that I avoided the ones that seemed less important on my importance scale. My breasts are getting examined by multiple doctors every few months, along with my hormone levels. And I was technically menopausal (medicinally), so I wasn't worried about pregnancy.

So, I took time away from the GYN until my mother reminded me it had been too long. And like most mothers, she was right. When I scheduled my appointment they had to make me a new patient again, since two years had passed. I realized then, I really had put it off for too long.

My appointment was standard, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. However, my GYN reminded me that I needed a transvaginal ultrasound to check my endometrium lining since my cancer med, Tamoxifen, is known to cause cancer after long term use. And obviously, I had not been monitored in two years... so, my last ultrasound was all they had. So, I scheduled the appointment and came back the next day.

Now, I know I have gone into detail about what a transvaginal ultrasound is, but for those curious transvaginal actually means "through the vagina". It is basically where they insert a long (dildo-like) ultrasound wand into your vagina to get a better look at female reproductive organs. I have had these ultrasounds for different reasons in my life, like for pregnancy and monitoring of my endometrium lining (back when I actually remembered my appointments), so this was nothing new.
The eerie feeling of being the only one there...
I laid on the table and talked to the tech as she took images and looked into the vast screen of black and white blur... or at least that what it looks like when you aren't pregnant. The streaked lines and occasional circular shapes filled the screen. It helps I have completed a degree in this, to see and know roughly what they are looking at. So, I feel like I at least know slightly what they are examining, measuring, or taking pictures of when they do.

After dressing I expected to leave, but instead I was told to go back to see the doctor. Now all cancer patients know this feeling, it is the - wait, no, that's not the normal procedure feeling - the sinking feeling that you know you are having to stay to be told something. You are put in that room... the room that you never really go into. The one that you know is away from the others... stuffed with information sheets.

As I sat there, I mentally prepared myself for whatever not-good news was coming my way. My feet dangled from the high doctor's office seat that I normally try to avoid sitting on and looked out the window. It was that "crap" moment. I was just waiting to see how much "crap" it was going to be.

The GYN, who by the way is an amazing lady, came in and immediately had the head shaking, dang-it, let's just rip the band-aid off, "well, it isn't good news" talk. She talked about how my endometrium lining had grown significantly. That since I had been menopausal for years, it should be less than 4 or 5 mm... and mine was well over 18 mm. There was a lot of other talk, but I only heard the important things. Potential endometrial (uterine) cancer or pre-cancerous issues. The percentages were not really in my favor due to my linings thickness, Tamoxifen use... etcetera.

By the end of the appointment, all I knew was it was very likely I could have another cancer, and I was scheduled an endometrial biopsy/DNC (which I later changed to an endometrial biopsy followed by a hysterectomy/oophorectomy... I'll discuss why in my next post).

I left the appointment feeling everything you can imagine I did. I felt frustrated, angry, confused, bewildered, worried, heartbroken, and afraid to name a few. I also knew before I could go home to my children, I had to go cry it off somewhere else. I headed to my parents were we all cried, were we all talked, were we all hoped everything would turn out alright.

The thing is that even though I had all those horrible scary feelings, I still held on to hope and the knowledge that the worst case scenario of cancer was something I would just have to deal with if I had to deal with it. I could only take it one step at a time, and there was no room to worry until I was told to worry. Plus, I still had to get home, clean up, and cook dinner.

Like most cancer survivors will say, we always live with that hearing-cancer-again-worry forever after we are first diagnosed. For some, it is like a constant blaring red warning sign that rages and roars in front of them, always present. For some, it is a lingering trickle of noise that can occasionally become a roaring river when reminded of. I live with the lingering trickle, who that day had a roaring river.




(Spoiler alert - everything turns out alright - negative - and everything was removed before it could get cancerous... I will be writing how it all went soon...)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

my longest hardest day yet

Get ready boys and girls... today is a doozy. And a long post too! But before we begin on one of the toughest days I've ever done, let's recap. Mon: Irritating Onc day where I was not told about suspicious fluid around lung/heart in time to get a biopsy & I got contradicting info from his NP the week before.  Tues: Spending the morning getting Immunotherapy and 2 Chemotherapies before going straight to the airport to fly to Houston and enduring long rental car lines and afternoon heavy traffic. A few more checks off this weeks list... a few more to go: Now back to my Wednesday... the Humpday I would like to forget! So, after 8 hours of cancer treatment, flying, and travel in congested Houston the day before, I didn't have much rest because we had to start Wednesday early. My husband and I decided to walk to the medical center since our hotel was close. However, it was not necessarily the easiest or closest walk - tons of traffic, intersections, and some strange indivi

happy birthday to me... almost

  Let's rewind a bit and start a few days before my birthday... I had my first cancer treatment day on October 3rd - check it out if you haven't read that blog post yet. Let's just think of it as an early birthday gift since my birthday is October 7th. Great gift, right?!? If I have to hear "Happy Early" or "Late Birthday" from another medical person, I might have to smack someone. Especially, since I have spent most of the weeks leading up to and after my birthday at a medical appointment regarding cancer. Not really loving my birthday this year. Let's just say, on my birthday, I woke up with a special chemo-side-effect-surprise at 2am. That fun surprise I will share later... Rewind a Few Days... Update But first, let's go to October 4th, the day after my grueling 8 hours of immunotherapy and two chemotherapies on the 3rd. I woke up swollen, red faced, and fevering, as well as feeling pretty crummy. I didn't have time to dwell on it since I

giving your 16 year old scissors

New Traditions Losing my hair - it's going to happen. When I did this in 2013, I waited to cut my hair once I was further in treatment. I didn't want to do that again. I didn't want to do it while I felt sore and bad. This time, I wanted to get rid of my hair before treatment.  Since I will have now done this more than once, it can be considered a tradition: cancer haircuts by my kids . Last time I did this, the kids were 6 and 13. So, this time around my son (23) opted not to cut, but watched some.   However, my 16 year old daughter leapt at the opportunity to cut my hair. Even though 10 years have gone by, she had to adhere to a few basic rules. Basic Rules: 1. Do not cut my ears. 2. Do not cut your own hair. 3. Do not cut anyone else's hair. These rules still hold up and are the general agreement we make before I put scissors in my kid's hands to chop on my hair!  And the tradition isn't the same without going outside (weather permitting) and listening to our