When I was diagnosed with cancer a year ago I made a conscious decision to be pretty open about my journey with the disease. Many of you were following my blog when I was diagnosed and have been following my various health updates and excitements since, so I figured I’d post a brief cancer update today for those who care. If you don’t care, ignore this and continue on with your regularly scheduled Thursday.
About three weeks after I had Fiona I went back to my doctor who wanted to do an ultrasound on my neck to see how everything is in there. He basically assured me that he wouldn’t find anything worth note in my ultrasound. He said I did so great with my medication while pregnant that there wouldn’t be anything there. Cancer was history. I ignorantly believed him. I walked into that ultrasound room on cloud nine. This has been one hell of a health year for me. I was positive I’ve paid my dues. The doctor said he wouldn’t find anything, so he wouldn’t find anything. Period. End of story.
How stupid that seems now.
The ultrasound showed some abnormalities. Today I went back to the doctor who did another ultrasound to see for himself what the ultrasound tech was seeing. Well, long story short, not only am I celebrating my “year of cancer” this month (I was diagnosed last October), but I’m also starting on year two of cancer. My medication didn’t suppress the cancer growth like it was supposed to. Lucky me, it’s spread into my lymph nodes. The doctor found 4 lymph nodes that are abnormal and “show no sign of being benign” (a nice way of saying malignant) and 1 that shows signs of being benign. I’m getting biopsies done next week. Then we get to talk about surgery to remove my cancer… again. Then we talk about radioactive iodine treatment.
All of this, AND a two month old baby. That’s not even touching my pregnancy induced back issues, which might also require surgery to fix.
I’m vacillating between being incredibly upset, feeling cheated and exhausted, and enjoying a level of stress I’ve never felt before. This wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did and all I can do is deal with it and read books to cope with the bullshit. I know in the end everything will be okay. I do have a very treatable form of cancer, which is good, but it’s spread, which is bad. Cancer is cancer and regardless of the type it’s still terrifying. I can’t even describe the emotional and mental punch in the gut this is.
Anyway, that’s that. Tomorrow I’m going to post my review of EYES TO SEE by Joseph Nassise.
15 Responses
I can't even imagine how terrifying that feeling must be, and I'm sure there's very little any of us could say to make you feel better. But, here goes:
Stay strong! We're rooting for ya'! (and it's ok to feel upset – feel what you need to feel).
(hug)
I'm really sorry to hear this, Sarah, and really hope things go well. Know that there are people out there wishing you the best.
Oh god, I'm so sorry to hear all that. I know that all the "sorry"s in the world probably can't do much to heal all the stress and anxiety and fear you're going through right now. Just know that, for what it's worth, I'm sending good vibes your way, and if there's anything I might be able to do for you, don't hesitate to ask.
Sarah, you know I am always here for you. I am terribly sorry to hear this news, but I'll be there to support you as a friend should.
I'm so sorry! Sometimes you just have to plow ahead one minute at a time. We're all wishing for the best for you – strength, courage, and healing.
I can't imagine how you must feel. But I'm sure you will cope with it as you did with your first year of cancer and your pregnancy. I hope and wish that things will go well for you.
Sarah, I won't pretend I know you – yet. I only recently began following you on twitter and reading some of your posts here. But this post struck close to home for me and I thought I would send you my positive thoughts. As everyone else here has posted, all the "I'm sorry"s in the world can't change the way you feel, and it's unlikely that anything we can say is going to be something that you haven't already thought of. So please forgive me if I state the obvious here – whenever you have those moments of depression or weariness, go look in on your new baby. There is your reason for fighting, as well as the joy in your life.
I started to write you about why your story hits so close to home, but I know you have probably already heard all kinds of inspirational survivor stories from friends and family. Just listen to them and know that you aren't alone, and that you have things worth fighting for. And always remember that your outlook is going to be one of your strongest weapons in your fight.
I have no words for how awful this must be to deal with Sarah.
That said, you are probably one of the strongest people to be so open about it and don't seem defeated or anything.
Stay strong, and know that I will send good vibes your way.
I'm too far away to offer practical support in the form of food or babysitting time, but I can offer a nice distraction: books. Let me know if there's anything you want!
I'm so sorry, Sarah. I can imagine how frustrated and terrified you are right now. You're in my thoughts.
I'm so sorry to hear this, Sarah. Huge hugs and I'm thinking of you.
Keep strong.
Sarah – I cannot even imagine how furious you must be with the universe right now. Hold onto your support system – that great husband, beautiful little girl, the rest of your family and friends and your internet communities. We are all pulling for you to get this behind you as soon as possible. Take all the help that is offered and ask for more if you need it. I wish all the best for you. Julie
Oh I really am sorry to hear the medicine didn't do as hoped. I've been hoping this would all clear up for you.
Hope things go smoothly with the next phase of the treatments and all. Thinking of you. *hugs*
Sarah, I have been watching for your updates and am so sorry to hear this news. I am thinking about you. Stay strong.
Kat