Day 2. #fuckcancer #myconfessions
Let me introduce you to Choriocarcinoma. She’s a rare cancer that was actually caused by my daughter Madi’s pregnancy. Here’s the fun twist… it showed up TWO YEARS AFTER she was born (makes it even rarer… that’s a word, right?) I stumped a lot of people. I almost feel a sense of pride about that… in a weird, I cheated Death for two years kind of way.
Hormone levels around 300,000. Yikes. (FYI this cancer mimics pregnancy… also, normal levels are 90 – 100,000. So something is clearly wrong.) I spy with my little eye a tumor the size of a grapefruit; attached to the outside of my uterus.
Hold on. Wait for it… this is a placental cancer. Sooo how did cells escape and end up outside my uterus? I don’t know. They don’t know. Ohhh I’m 2 for 2!! I should win a prize for stumping doctors.
Inpatient chemotherapy (also known as biweekly Hell) consisting of methotrexate, dactinomycin, etiposide and steroids. Methotrexate shots. Remission.
It seems so… simple. Diagnosis. Treatment. Remission. All done.
Remission brought emotion. Persistent Depressive Disorder. Severe Anxiety. Fear. Sadness. Debt. Acute Stress Disorder. Anger.
The hardest part of a cancer diagnosis is not the battle between it and you. It is the aftermath. The remission stage. The “now what?” part. You’ve been strong for so long. You’ve fought so hard. And then it’s just over. There is no processing time during treatments. You may have been victorious, but now is when symptoms rear their ugly heads. Now, you don’t know who you are. What you do know is that you’re different. An entirely different being. Cancer changes you in every aspect of life and the lives of those you love.
That’s where I am now. Yes it will be three years May 2nd since I heard the remission word. But my struggle now is almost worse than my struggle of fighting the actual disease. My mind hasn’t healed. My body still feels weak. I still need to work on ‘me.’ Whoever that may be…