The C word

It's an ugly word. Foul is every way, scary to both those who have it and those who don't. But it's something that happens to other people, right? Not to me, certainly. At least, that's what I thought, somewhere in the back of my mind anyway. But it's not true. Because I have it. I have cancer.

I guess I should back up a bit, because, let's face it, that's a pretty shocking statement. I've been thinking on this, and I guess it started about three or four months ago. At least that's when I noticed things. I was having some pain in my left hip. Nothing I couldn't handle, but it was uncomfortable. But I'm on my feet all the time, I usually have at least one baby on my hip, sometimes two. I'm up and down the stairs, I'm chasing kids around the house. It's normal to have pain, right?

Except my pain didn't go away. It started getting worse, and I complained to Austin about it. He'd massage my back and hip and it would feel better. But it had moved from just my hip to my lower back and was even more uncomfortable. I was taking Aleve and using some aspercreme (you know, the smelly old-people stuff), and it took care of the pain for the most part.

But then I started not being able to sleep because of it. I'd wake up in the night hurting so badly I couldn't go back to sleep. I'd get up in the middle of the night to take hot baths. And then one morning, as I was massaging my side (which had started to hurt), I found a knot. It was just under was left ribcage, on the left side of my abdomen. And I knew right then that I had a problem.

It was during the weekend that I found it, so on Monday, I went to the doctor. The doctor didn't have a very good poker face; when he examined me, I knew even clearer; this was bad. He ordered a CT scan for the next day.

I had the CT scan, and the doctor came out and told me that this was outside his specialty, but he believed it was a lymphoma. I cried a lot in that waiting room that afternoon. Over the next few days, we were referred to a Surgeon, who examined me and looked at the CT scan. He felt the same way, and ordered a Biopsy. I had the biopsy done (the shoved a big long needle through my back to get to this thing), and then we had to wait four whole days for the results. When the surgeon walked in to the room, I could tell just by looking at his face that we were in trouble. He confirmed that it was cancer, and it was malignant.

Dr. Gill referred me to an Oncologist - a cancer doctor. So we went to see Dr. Ackerman. She told us that she believed that what I have is called a Sarcoma. A very rare type of cancer. To complicate matters, it is pressing on my left kidney, blocking it's use. Because of the rarity of it, Dr. Ackerman referred us to Dr. Esnaola, a Surgical Oncologist, to do major surgery to remove the cancer. The catch? Dr. Esnaola is in Charleston, SC.

Dr. Esnaola works at Hollings Cancer Center, at the Medical University of South Carolina. When we met with him, he because talking about options. Surgery, Radiation, Chemo. We were overwhelmed, because we believed we were just going to talk to him about Surgery. Dr. Esnaola revealed to us that not only is the tumor blocking my kidney, but it is also pressing against my Aorta, the main blood supply leaving the heart, and that at this point, surgery wasn't even an option, so we would need to consider other options.

Stunned isn't even the right word to destribe how we felt. Dr. Ackerman and Dr. Gill had both led us to believe that it just needed to be removed, and that Chemo wouldn't work for it anyway. So we were definity caught off guard. We would up talking with Dr. Marshall, the Radiation Oncologist, and with Dr. Simiaha, the Hemotology Oncologist. After what seemed like a ton of tests and pokes and prodes, it was finally decided that Chemotherapy is where we will begin. And that begins next week.

Which leads me back to where I began. I have Cancer.

I am so afraid. I don't want to do Chemo. I don't want to be sick, I don't want to lose my hair. I don't want to be scary looking to my kids. I don't want to do this. I don't want to be the person everyone feels sorry for, that everyone is talking about. I don't want to be the person that needs so much help, the one who can't take care of things. I don't want to die. Because I could, you know. I don't want to, and I'll fight like hell to keep that from happening. But that thought is there, in the back of my mind; like a bad taste you can't get out of your mouth and won't go away.

To top it all off, Austin lost his job. No real explaination of things...just a "Your services are no longer needed." kind of thing. And they knew what was happening with us. So here we are, neither of us working really (although I'm still doing a bit of babysitting when I'm able to), tons of expenses just to go back and forth to Charleston, not able to pay our basic bills, and I have cancer. Freaking cancer. But I'm trying to be open-minded, to realize the timing is okay.

And it is. Better than okay. I think the Lord knew that I needed Austin at home with me. Not that I think Heavenly Father got him fired, but I think that he would have lost the job anyway, and the timing was just worked out where it helped us. I can't drive because of the pain medication I'm taking. There are days I can't pick Jacob up and put him in or out of bed, or into the high chair. So having him here is wonderful. And we've been blessed beyond explaination with food and help. So i can't complain too much. Or at least I shouldn't. I do my fair share of it. Austin is struggling too; he's a typical man, one that wants to provide for his family and take care of things, and right now it's out of his hands. But we're trying to do our part in everything. Still looking for jobs, still keeping faith, still trying to be strong (notice I said TRYING - believe me, we have our moments!).

So, there you have it. I have Cancer. But I'm still here. And I plan to be for a very long time.

(P.S. - I was having a very down day when I began writing this. It's amazing how letting things out helps to cleanse the soul; I feel much better now!)