Time to rip the band-aid off, as it appears that so many think that my melanoma has returned….it has not. Part of me wishes that is what I was up against for round two, but that’s not the case. I know that sounds completely absurd, to wish a type of cancer over another, but it makes sense to me. After my melanoma diagnosis in April 2012, I became my own advocate. I remember my first check after my surgery – I went into the office with sharpie dots next to spots that I thought changed or were new. I felt like I was in control, I was always going to be steps ahead of my cancer. Since that awful day over 2 years ago, I have had over 30 biopsies. A large number of them were “dysplastic” (showed signs of pre-cancer), and a few of those required further excisions because the margins weren’t clean. In July of this year, I went in for a 4 month check, and I pointed out a spot on my lower back. I wasn’t sure if it was new, but it was dark, and I had noticed it in late June. My doctor confirmed that it was in fact new. There was no record of it from my late March visit and she did a “shave biopsy” on it. On August 4, I had to go back in for a punch excision on that same area. The results were pre-cancer, which was terrifying, since that spot had only been there a maximum of three months, maybe less. I rode Pelotonia with stitches in my lower back, not knowing if it had all been captured. When I had my stitches removed, I was told everything was clean. I beat it again. I am so aware of my skin - what is suspect and what is not, that to have a new gremlin creep in that I can’t control, that I can’t monitor, is absolutely frightening. I have cervical cancer – invasive adenocarcinoma to be exact. It’s still so taboo. We all talk about breast cancer and even testicular cancer without skipping a beat, but cervical cancer, well it’s just awkward and not the conversation you want to have around the company water cooler. Who wants to talk about their lady parts? I know I don’t, but I will, if it means I can ensure you have a lifetime ahead. I’ll dole out the timeline of events later, but for now I will say I have had 2 consults. My first one came back with a staging of 1a2, the second one as 1b. The treatment plan isn’t any different between the two, it’s simply the width of the cancer. I am 3mm deep and 9mm wide, therefore a 1b. On December 8, I will undergo a radical hysterectomy, where they will also remove 20-25 lymph nodes from my pelvis (mostly) and my abdomen. It is an extremely invasive surgery that will take 3.5 to 4 hours. I’ll have to stay in the hospital 2-3 days, and will be off work for about 6 weeks. I will not know until after the nodes and tissue are tested if I will require any further treatment such as chemo/radiation. I think the #1 worst thing about cancer is the waiting. Waiting for results, waiting for procedures..waiting, waiting, waiting. It can drive a person insane! It’s not easy to wake up right now and know that for the next six weeks I have to walk around with cancer inside of me. I can’t see it. I can’t watch it for changes. I have no idea if it’s lying dormant or getting ready to venture outside of its current zone. I can’t monitor it and that angers me. Time to be “glass half full”. I credit my doctor for saving my life. For being diligent in my care, because had she not, it very well could have been next summer before anything presented itself, and my prognosis would be entirely different. Cliff saved me the first time – forced me to the dermatologist. My doctor saved me this time around. Two everyday people that are heroes to me. Cancer sucks. Always has, always will. It’s what you make of it during and after that can have a lasting impact on not only you, but those around you, too.
Posted on: Mon, 27 Oct 2014 17:48:49 +0000
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