I decided to write this blog as a means to document my thoughts, questions, and experiences because I just received a cancer diagnosis. I was inspired by a friend of mine, who recently went through a similar journey and realized that sharing this journey with others will serve multiple purposes:
Fast forward to Tuesday, February 13th. I get a call from the doctor's office telling me that the doctor would like to see me to discuss the results from my pap test. She booked me in for the next day, which never happens because usually she is very busy. Plus, she booked me in for the last appointment of the day. Although these were little red flags in my mind, I truly believed that she wanted to tell me that the results came back abnormal due to the blood in the sample, and she would just do another test. These are the stories we tell ourselves to make the worry go away, I guess.
Wednesday, February 14th. I go to my appointment and the doctor is running 1/2 an hour late. More time to sit and stew about the appointment. Finally when the doctor comes in, there is small talk about the new office and the weather. Then the words come "I have some bad news for you". She shows me the paper with the lab results on it, and all I can see are the words "SQUAMOUS CELL CARCINOMA". Happy Valentine's Day to me.
The doctor continues to talk and apologizes for the bad news. My brain is in a fog. It's hard to concentrate on her words, and I feel my face is getting hot. She asks if I have any questions. I don't know how to formulate any questions. Instead, I want to rescue the doctor from her discomfort and say "I'm okay. It must be hard for you to deliver this news to people."
She explains it is difficult, but she wants to make sure I have my questions answered. I explained that I have worked in cancer-related industries for a number of years, so I'm familiar with the terms and language. She proceeds to send the requisition to the Colposcopy clinic where I will find out more information. The cytology report only says they found cancer cells, so until I go to the Colposcopy appointment, I won't know how serious it is. I'm confident it's early days, and we caught it soon enough that things will be relatively straight forward. I'm putting it out into the universe that it will be a small, localized area, and can be treated easily.
The doctor was great during this visit. She showed me a visual graphic of the cervix and said that since I wasn't going to have kids anyway, I could opt to have a hysterectomy and take all the parts of my uterus out. She explained that the Colposcopy doctor will discuss all my options after we learn more. My pragmatic brain takes over, and I tell the doctor that I understand everything, I thank her and leave.
Out in the parking lot, I sit and look at the sunny, blue sky for a moment and take that in. It's in that moment that a few tears slide down my face. This is when the hard part begins. I have to tell my family.
I drive to my parent's house, which is near the doctor's office. I am usually at work at this time, so my mom is surprised to see me. I don't waste time on small talk. I show her the piece of paper and through tears I tell her that I have cervical cancer. My mom takes it very, very hard. I won't go into details, but telling her was the toughest. I spent the next couple of hours comforting her as we drank some tea. I was more concerned about protecting her emotional state rather than dealing with my own.
My father wasn't home, so I left it to my mom to tell him, and also my little sister. I knew I needed to go home and tell my sister and brother-in-law, who live in the suite upstairs from me. I also needed to figure out what to do about work. I knew I'd struggle if I had to go to work in the morning. I wouldn't be able to concentrate or engage with anybody in my current state of mind.
When I got home, I told my brother-in-law, and it was a little easier. My sister wouldn't get home for a few hours. So I emailed my boss to let her know and arranged to stay home from work the next day. Then I phoned my best friend. She was, of course, amazing. She knew all the right things to say... sending positive, healing words my way.
The next few hours were the toughest. I knew that when my sister got home, it would be tough to tell her. I worried about that and couldn't get it out of my mind. I tried to find some distraction, so I turned on the TV. It's impossible to find escape when your brain is still trying to process. I couldn't focus on anything. I resisted the urge to "Google" everything about cervical cancer.
When my sister finally got home, I told her. She reacted much more rationally than my mom. That was a relief. I didn't want to drain any more emotional energy.
I felt exhausted. I had no appetite but knew I should eat dinner, but the leftover perogies in the fridge didn't seem appropriate. I suddenly started to worry about the food I was eating. I grabbed an apple, which seemed to be enough.
I spoke to my dad on the phone, mostly about the bathroom renovation that he was helping me with. We didn't need to talk about the diagnosis. Sometimes it's okay to know that the unspoken words are just as powerful as the spoken ones.
In just a few hours, I grasped the power of the word "Cancer". In my opinion, I think it has too much power over our emotions. I think people still associate the word with a death sentence. I don't believe that's true. Survival rates are getting higher and higher all the time. My goal is to take its power away.
I didn't sleep much that night. My thoughts were all over the map. So many questions. So much guilt ... yes, guilt. And worry. Financial worries, job worries, and fear of the unknown. This is just the beginning.
- I will be able to synthesize my thoughts that are swirling around my head.
- I will be able to keep my friends and family (and other interested followers) informed of my journey to recovery.
- It will give me a format to stay focused on a positive outcome by putting my experience out into the universe and having others direct positive, supportive energy towards my healing.
Fast forward to Tuesday, February 13th. I get a call from the doctor's office telling me that the doctor would like to see me to discuss the results from my pap test. She booked me in for the next day, which never happens because usually she is very busy. Plus, she booked me in for the last appointment of the day. Although these were little red flags in my mind, I truly believed that she wanted to tell me that the results came back abnormal due to the blood in the sample, and she would just do another test. These are the stories we tell ourselves to make the worry go away, I guess.
Wednesday, February 14th. I go to my appointment and the doctor is running 1/2 an hour late. More time to sit and stew about the appointment. Finally when the doctor comes in, there is small talk about the new office and the weather. Then the words come "I have some bad news for you". She shows me the paper with the lab results on it, and all I can see are the words "SQUAMOUS CELL CARCINOMA". Happy Valentine's Day to me.
The doctor continues to talk and apologizes for the bad news. My brain is in a fog. It's hard to concentrate on her words, and I feel my face is getting hot. She asks if I have any questions. I don't know how to formulate any questions. Instead, I want to rescue the doctor from her discomfort and say "I'm okay. It must be hard for you to deliver this news to people."
She explains it is difficult, but she wants to make sure I have my questions answered. I explained that I have worked in cancer-related industries for a number of years, so I'm familiar with the terms and language. She proceeds to send the requisition to the Colposcopy clinic where I will find out more information. The cytology report only says they found cancer cells, so until I go to the Colposcopy appointment, I won't know how serious it is. I'm confident it's early days, and we caught it soon enough that things will be relatively straight forward. I'm putting it out into the universe that it will be a small, localized area, and can be treated easily.
The doctor was great during this visit. She showed me a visual graphic of the cervix and said that since I wasn't going to have kids anyway, I could opt to have a hysterectomy and take all the parts of my uterus out. She explained that the Colposcopy doctor will discuss all my options after we learn more. My pragmatic brain takes over, and I tell the doctor that I understand everything, I thank her and leave.
Out in the parking lot, I sit and look at the sunny, blue sky for a moment and take that in. It's in that moment that a few tears slide down my face. This is when the hard part begins. I have to tell my family.
I drive to my parent's house, which is near the doctor's office. I am usually at work at this time, so my mom is surprised to see me. I don't waste time on small talk. I show her the piece of paper and through tears I tell her that I have cervical cancer. My mom takes it very, very hard. I won't go into details, but telling her was the toughest. I spent the next couple of hours comforting her as we drank some tea. I was more concerned about protecting her emotional state rather than dealing with my own.
My father wasn't home, so I left it to my mom to tell him, and also my little sister. I knew I needed to go home and tell my sister and brother-in-law, who live in the suite upstairs from me. I also needed to figure out what to do about work. I knew I'd struggle if I had to go to work in the morning. I wouldn't be able to concentrate or engage with anybody in my current state of mind.
When I got home, I told my brother-in-law, and it was a little easier. My sister wouldn't get home for a few hours. So I emailed my boss to let her know and arranged to stay home from work the next day. Then I phoned my best friend. She was, of course, amazing. She knew all the right things to say... sending positive, healing words my way.
The next few hours were the toughest. I knew that when my sister got home, it would be tough to tell her. I worried about that and couldn't get it out of my mind. I tried to find some distraction, so I turned on the TV. It's impossible to find escape when your brain is still trying to process. I couldn't focus on anything. I resisted the urge to "Google" everything about cervical cancer.
When my sister finally got home, I told her. She reacted much more rationally than my mom. That was a relief. I didn't want to drain any more emotional energy.
I felt exhausted. I had no appetite but knew I should eat dinner, but the leftover perogies in the fridge didn't seem appropriate. I suddenly started to worry about the food I was eating. I grabbed an apple, which seemed to be enough.
I spoke to my dad on the phone, mostly about the bathroom renovation that he was helping me with. We didn't need to talk about the diagnosis. Sometimes it's okay to know that the unspoken words are just as powerful as the spoken ones.
In just a few hours, I grasped the power of the word "Cancer". In my opinion, I think it has too much power over our emotions. I think people still associate the word with a death sentence. I don't believe that's true. Survival rates are getting higher and higher all the time. My goal is to take its power away.
I didn't sleep much that night. My thoughts were all over the map. So many questions. So much guilt ... yes, guilt. And worry. Financial worries, job worries, and fear of the unknown. This is just the beginning.
Thank you for sharing your journey. Hugs, love and more positive energy for you!
ReplyDeleteYou are such an amazing person. You nailed it when you said the word "cancer" has been given power. Power we have allowed it to have, but that you will have no problem snatching away. This is a hickup in your life for reasons we may never know, if only to be an inspiration for others who do not have your strength. A hickup with an abundance of knowledge to offer. There's certainly going to be some trying times ahead of you and along with that comes lessons. Lessons ready for you to take and present to others as the incredibly talented teacher that you are. I'm here to participate in any part of this journey you need me to be. I can say with confidence, you got this girl. Love you oxox
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing your journey with cancer Melissa. I celebrate the power you have through your words and thoughts, and I will be sending you an abundance of love and healing energy vibes throughout your experience to wellness. xoxo
ReplyDeleteHi Melissa, you are a resilient Ketler woman. I know you will come through this even stronger. If you need anything or just want a break, come stay with us anytime.
ReplyDeleteThe biggest if hugs, Jesse