Thanksgiving does not mean giving thanks.

As I spend time recovering from a wonderful thanksgiving with family, and friends I am reminded of this time last year. I could barely sit up and watch my family eat and cook let alone focus. I was terrified that wiuld be the last of those days. Christmas was worse. So imagine my parents and friends surprise that I managed to stay on my feet and cook a ham and a turkey sweet potatoes ( with help) dressing, fresh cranberries, corn and slow cooked greed beans and croissants. I baked ten pies and wore out before I could make the tassies. I was pretty worn out by then and spent a good deal of time over the next days resting and spending time with my family. The mood was very different and the day was truely one of giving thanks. That led me to wonder though, is thanksgiving the same as giving thanks.

No it is not. Giving thanks is when in the course of life you find yourself at the whim of someone else's mercy. No matter how you try you need help or love, compassion or care, you know the stuff of life. Lately I have been in that spot lately. Being ill and raising my beautiful son of 17 years, ( who was just accepted to the university of Arkansas , college of engineering thank you very much lol) I have required a lot of care. Walking even talking some days is a real challenge. But, I am blessed. And I am thankful.

I am thankful that I have Jennifer klym to look after me.  Nathan klym for helping teach Brandon the ways of manhood as a Christian man. The cueball club, my oldest brother Wally and his son Joshua.   

My beautiful son Brandon, and Nathan and yes even Jen Klym! The hairdresser. ( I know right)! Charlie for coming during my fist surgery, and wally And his family for the visits to look after me. Then there is my mother and father who have been there every step of the way. Jim and Maryanne Colter, Doug colter, Laura and Richard Lofland, Carolyn liozzi and all my endless cousins who have been praying. The little theatre company of crittendon county, for hats love prayer and support. My friends who have loved and supported me. I am sure I am missing so many people today, but for this moment I want each of you to know how much thanks and love I have for each of you. I don't always get to express how much iam loving each of you andam thankful for your place in my life.

With love 

According to how you know me,

Kristi

Kris

KC

Krissyrae

Rissykris

Ratchetjaw

And finally

Krissy Teenie Raey Halley.

Hello readers, please be patient...

I have been very ill and now recovering but new posts are coming soon. I work on them as I have energy but as I have learned. When the body takes a knee, you better go with it... 

Hoping all are finding good heath and joy

KC

I'm Still Standin'...

I haven't written much lately because I have been in the hospital and have been very sick. I recall making the comment in my last post about what else i would have to endure...God is funny.

I am still working through the issues that landed me in the hospital and critical care, but I will be just fine. I have a hereditary angiodema and chronic urticaria. Unfortunately I can longer take Motrin. That's OK, I am still here and still raising my kids. I have great friends who help a lot so I am blessed. I say I'm still standing about my recent experiences but also about all I have seen and learned.

First things first, I am moving slower and now wonder if there will ever be a day that I am able to be in a normal relationship while my skin chooses its own time to blister and puff and do it's own thing. My thoughts on that are simple. Who cares. I am me. I have no control over what genetics does in this case. I obey the Doctor, and do what i can, beyond that, its out of my hand. Love me or don't, like me or not, I know Gods plan for me is perfect and I will have the joys and dreams of my heart in His time. In the mean time, anybody know a good way to excuse ones self when you begin to look ike a tomato? Lets laugh. I have not been doing that well lately so we are gonna start again.

While in a local hospital, I realized I was so familiar with the jargon that I kept asking them to shorthand it for me. As a writer, there is some irony in asking people to use less words and description rather than the detailed explaination most desire. Im tired, I just want to get the information and move on. Moving on in so many ways.

Why are we so mean?

I read non stop. anything I can my hands on History medical eighteenth century liturature, a few lovely fiction writers.  Imagine , if you will, my surpise when in reading an artical about a woman who chose to have her both breast removed after finding out she was positive for the bRCA1 gene, and whose mother how had died after a lengthly battle with ovarion cancer. She intended to have her overies removed soon after. Imagine that upon reading this my shock that one of the first comments was  "big deal, been there done that." several similar comments along those lines follow. We'll this post is very short.

One question. why are so mean?

Think about it.

Thriving after cancer is hard work, May I please take a nap?

Let me start by saying that I am grateful to be alive. Even more I intend to live everyday I get in some way that is consciously more involved and aware than the day before.  However, there is a real trend developing with high expectations about what survivorship looks like. With survivorship on an upswing (thank goodness), more than ever we are starting to look at survivors with a "what's next" attitude.  I think it's really a fantastic thing that we have this problem. More survivors is always a good thing, second only to less cases to begin with. There is this idea that after you face your death head on and live, there must be some greater purpose. As a survivor there can be a lot of pressure to do something profound. There is this idea that you need to find a deeper meaning and purpose in your life. I agree, when faced with something like this it is a great idea to re-evaluate your life and choices. Let me tell you what I went through though, as well as, many people I have known.

SO. As I have been telling you my story this is jumping ahead a little but its been on my heart after several people I know have really experienced major episodes of depression, of heartache, even in one case a lovely person who talked about feeling like a failure for not doing more.  When I questioned this my sweet friend explained that she was getting a lot of comments that she should be talking to people or advocating, or something more to give back. My heart was in a vise. I have been there. Feeling run ragged trying to keep up when I wasn't even whole yet, on a plane more than the ground because I didn't want other women to ever find themselves in my shoes. Not because of a lack of information. So I stumped my way across the country. I do not regret it. not one second. That said, I would love to talk to that woman who worked like her feet were on fire and tell her what I know now. Well This is what I would say.

Sit down. Take time to breath. Read a book. Sleep. These things are just as vital to survival as chemo, radiation, surgery and the like. There will be time to talk. There will be plenty of opportunities to "give back", and to use your voice. Its hard to rest when you feel like you have something to say. When you feel like you have a cause, a passion, a mission, you want to power through. Cancer picked a fight with me and I was fighting back. I wouldn't sit for it. Not for even a moment. Sounds great, a survivor full of passion, full of fire fighting against the bully. Unfortunately, I had not really taken the time to rest. I had no intention of allowing myself to wallow in the dispare I felt.  I cant really explain why I found this so hard, it was like I was a failure if I let myself grieve for all I had lost. Well I was very wrong.

I know now that the universe has a  way of putting you in your chair and taking a time out. My body needed time to rest and become as whole as it would ever be again. why didn't I listen. When women have children they tell you it will take your body almost a year to really return to its original pre-maternal condition. So why did I not realize that when my body was dissected, pulled apart that it might take some time before it was normal. Add to that, the mental and emotional side effects that come after cancer and its treatment. I keep a sense of humor about it but its not all fun and games. At the end of the day I am still here fighting healing and learning to thrive.

You want me to put my feet where???

When I was first diagnosed did not comprehend the indignities that my body and soul were about to go through. These things happen to so many people I wonder if we as a collective take the journey for granted. Cancer is so common and "we" are bombarded with cancer awareness and treatment, including commercials, billboards posters pamphlets I worry about our expectations. I'm not saying this is a bad thing, it's so wonderful that as a whole we are willing to hear and share so much information. It is one reason survival is so much more prevalent. However, until you live through something you can not truly understand it. It's the difference in empathy and sympathy. So how does a cancer patient, how do I, help people understand the quirkiness, anxiety and fear they or I feel?

First of all, I had three highly invasive surgeries, during which, my cancer was cut out of my body ripped apart and then rebuilt. The first surgery was several procedures in one. A very comman practice which makes it all too easy to minimize what is lost. At least it was for me. I had a radical hysterectomy which is the removal of the full uterus, cervix  and in my case a portion of my vagina. I had a bi lateral salpingo oopherectomy (bye bye to both overies and fallopian tubes)  and to add insult to injury I had a lymphnode dissection and then removal of other nodes. During the course of that first surgery a nerve was damaged, leaving serious neuropathy. I had a top rate surgeon, but when cancer is involved sometimes a nicked nerve is much better than letting cancer set up camp. I Had some issues waking up from the anesthesia which is normal for me, but otherwise that was uneventful in medical terms. Emotionally, the damage didnt show up to the party, for quite some time.

Only a few months later, I had the second surgery. It was invasive and painful, and I was determined not to let it affect me either. Unfortunately, I chose to have the surgery in the a.m. and then continue about my day and try to pretend it didnt happen. I say that because not allowing my self time to heal in between has caused my recovery to be slower and less successful. It also doesnt allow muc time for grieving what you lose each time. It all comes out in the wash as they say and in hindsight I should have taken the time. It was m decision and mine alone. If a regret is to be had, this is it.  Follow that with a ton of testing and genetic counceling, and soon it was time for surgery number three.

The third surgery was a reconstruction and repair surgery hoping to eleviate pain, and functionality. I've spent so much time with my feet in stirrups I'm starting to think I am a cowboy! I now pick out my wardrobe based on what socks to wear and what would cover me the best without pants.  I Think alot about how humiliating some of the things have been . How many strangers have seen me naked? I tried to count once and felt sick at over a hundred.

Here I was a thirty six year old, no longer able to have children, though I have a wonderful son from BC. Before Cancer. I found the man I was married to for over seventeen years has decided this is the best time to start a new life with other women. He moved out of our room on the day of my surgery and never moved back in. Add heartbreak to the devastation and humilation to boot. The humiliation I felt having my husband walk out so publicly and for another woman. Of course I know I am better of now. But tell me, how many of you want that sort of thing to be what everyone is talking about? So in front of everyone, and while I was sick and fighting for life, my son and I were thrown like tops on a floor spinning out of control. I tried to fix the marrage but nothing ever really worked. I was on my own with my son. Trying to build a man out of the clay as you do when raising boys is hard when you have become a puddle of mud. But God knew. He knew my needs, He knew my beautiful sons needs. He made a way. The divorce is something I will talk about later, but it deserved mentioning since it added yet again to my humiliation in the moment.

In those early days, I would wonder what else would I endure. How much more could I take? Then I decided, I can handle this. God is with me and if I trust in Him then I trust His plan is perfect. Besides, what was I going to do? Walk around crying all the time. I'm not built that way. Ok my Mom could have done with alot less of my "humor", but that's kind of how I deal. Well that and staying busy. unfortunately as I learned you cant outrun what life is throwing at you. You have to pull yourself up by the bootstraps and keep on moving. I no longer get frustrated when I hear alot of "this too shall pass" and "God wont give you more than you can handle", as I used to. I just remember that first, of course it will pass. The world doesnt stop turning. So if I am breathing I am living, Second, Of course God will give me more than I can handel, but He will never give me more than He can handle. So I turn it over to him and trust. I do all I can and stay in prayer, then having done all else, I stand on faith. Of course I do pray that my health care team is full of people with alot of patience, strength, wisdom and if you know me at all I pray for God and a little chocolate.

Its been a while now, four years since the first of those surgeries and other than one year of peace, have been fighting illness unrelenting. I have also been fighting to find me again. sometimes it's easier than others.  There is alot left for me to do but that's ok. Thats the stuff of life. I am bolder now than ever before. I am stronger now than any other time. I am braver now, than I ever thought I could be. As for my beautiful boy. He is thriving, and about to be a senior in high school. A little treat, one of the next posts will be written by him from his point of view. So we have that to look forward to. In the mean time, I will continue to work on my book, and getting healthy. Moving on...

Support isnt always supportive...

Hello there!

I have been spending the last few weeks recovering from a serious case of bronchitis and pleurisy. not fun.

So lets catch up.

In my second to last post I talked about how it felt to go through the first days of diagnosis, and there are a few things I need to mention. I have an amazing Doctor. He is caring and compassionate, and I believe, he is the tool God used to save my life multiple times. I am not an easy patient, I get nervous and frightened and at times my fear overrides my ability to reason, and take action. In those times he is able to pull out of me how I feel about my treatment plan. So, when I second guess my decision later I am able to rationally look back and find renewed confidence in the treatments we use. I am blessed that I have a great support system now. I have also empowered myself with knowledge. The bad days aren't as bad as they used to be. When I am sick I am reminded of all the people who were there for me and helped me avoid the mine field of "destructive support" verses "real support".

Today has been a long day for me, not feeling well and recovering from a prolonged infection it feels like it did being stuck in a hospital bed for so many months. These are the times where I feel most confident that if I can help even one person to understand treatment options and early detection and screening it will be worth it. every shallow breath, every tear, every scar. In those early days, women were there for me while I was at the clinic. Women who had been where I was, where I am. But finding support must be done with caution. We are hearing more and more about a small group of survivors, and those caregivers who are left behind, who for whatever reason want to tell the scariest  and most upsetting stories to current patients. I call this 'destructive support"

Why is this scary to me? There are many patients who are terrified of treatment and recovery because of horror stories they hear from others. I have had the same experience. When I'm out, wearing a scarf or with my head exposed, people want to talk to me. They tell me there stories, sometimes very tearfully. Sometimes it's wonderful and I am glad that they felt comfortable talking to me. I feel like we both leave a little lighter than we were. When they approach me, they talk about lost love ones and the upset they have endured. I wonder sometimes, if they received the "real support" they needed during a time of intense strain or grief. Sometimes though it's uglier. When new patients begin the process of treatment and recovery, they need lifted up, and so do their families. The last thing they need or want is to hear horror stories.  "My aunt died from that, she was in so much pain we just had to let her go". To many times they reach out for support only to feel trapped in a group with people who have an arsenal filled with scary stories. Support groups are out there, for patients and caregivers, but if you attend and find yourself on the end of everyone else's horror stories, feel free to excuse yourself and find a support group that focuses on "support".  Take time to empower yourself in the midst of your own nightmare.

Where in the world is this blog going?

Well.

This last week I have been thinking a lot about what direction to take this blog, and by extension my book. I was deciding whether this, my story, is better fitted to generic informative or emotional narrative. Much of what I have talked about over the last four years has been how my life can be used as a warning for other people. Men and women alike.I talk about little lessons I learned from cancer, my body, and what I did wrong and how I hope others do better. Here's the thing though, I have learned more about life, love, parenting, being a friend, a child, a patient and so much more. Almost always I hear, "Wow, you're so young", but the thing is, I wish I had learned all of this twenty years ago.

At least, in terms of this little journey I'm on, I think there has been much more to learn than just how to survive cancer. How to Survive cancer is there, but also how to survive mental health issues, going through a divorce during the midst of a hurricane, parenting a child who has already been through far more than any child should go through, and I think, how to lose it all and still come out on top!  Knowing at the end of the day, that whatever I say or whatever I write will be out there forever.  My son will one day read this and know about all the turmoil but how it made me stronger. Also how it made him stronger too. But I also want him to know that it took it's toll on us. I define Us as my whole family flinging around inside the hurricane with he and I as close to the eye as you can be without being in the calm. I have spent a lot of time during this last week brainstorming what will this be, a memoir? something more educational in value, and what I came up with is rather simplistic.

I'm just going to tell my story, with all the emotion that comes with it and the knowledge I have gained. Take from it what you like. Life has a funny way of changing us. Like when I was decorating the house that Christmas four years ago I never imagined I would spend the entire day of Christmas laying on my house all alone while my ex (then current) husband took our son to the neighbors house. I refused to say how much it bothered me or that I thought he was being terribly selfish. Now I would speak up and say how hurt I am, how alone I feel and how it would stay with me for years that feeling of being alone. Since then, irony, which set up shop in my life many years ago, would show that I  have become much stronger as a result of that day. So that when I got sick again in the years that followed, It didn't hurt as much, being alone while being given bad news time after time. I was much more equipped for the ugliness of life.

SO over the coming weeks, and months, I will be writing about the past, present and future all in a predefined space. So lets buckle up and enjoy the ride. who knows maybe we will all learn something in the process.

Dating and being crazy...

I was asked out on a few dates recently. For crying out loud stop laughing, it's possible. Dating in my situation is slightly challenging and I'll tell you why. First of all I am forty years old and have only a little hair, (but rocking wigs!). Alright fine, no hair. The hair will grow back but with the cancer and all that that implies, it can be difficult. Second, I have a mild form of bipolar disorder called hypo mania, if the cancer doesn't send them running for the hills that usually does it. And third, I am menopausal, (Thanks cancer!), and have been since I was thirty six. So I have to figure out what time and how do you spring any of this on a man. I believe in being upfront and honest. Sometimes it works out well and others...well lets just say I have seen people run as fast as the road runner, and yes the cloud of dust is visible. OK now I am cracking me up, so let's all smile and enjoy the ride. Today I just laugh at how people react to my situation. It wasn't always that way.

After my initial diagnosis the shock of cancer left me largly unable to think about all the consequences. "let me live, let me live".  that's all I cared about. So, at first losing my fertility wasn't a shock. In the hospital, though, I was suddenly became very aware that I would not be having anymore children. My life long dream to have a house full of children was gone in a moment. God has blessed with me with a few "adopted kids" so I am a grateful mother. However, I forgot who I was and didn't ask questions. My Oncologist said, " so what are we gonna do?" I responded get it out! You're the Dr. why are you asking me? Seriously folks, I am an intelligent woman but when panic set in my brain turned off. I was genuinely traumatized more than one might expect for the situation. Some days I still am. Before I knew it I woke up post op and was so grateful to be alive that I pushed everything else to the back of my head and hoped for the best. Lets just say at this point if you are a mother and have ever had to bath a dog to get peanut butter of his back from a child deciding to frost him, you know about compartmentalization. I am an all American pro at it!! But I have to tell men and friends about the cancer, rarely, do I tell them how deeply it affected me. That can come later right? I'll let you know what I find out.

And then there was bi polar disorder, and PTSD, Post traumatic stress disorder. yea! I am treated and well managed. My form of bi polar is called hypo mania. Very common for these types of disorders to float to the service when a serious trauma  is happening. See I listen to the therapist, and Psychiatrist. OK I call them shrinkydinks , no insult intended really. They have helped me through some of the most trying times. now what I go through is simple, I get extreme energy and can't turn my brain off. I'm not wearing aluminum foil hats or anything extreme. My house gets really clean in the middle of the night. A councelor once told me it is about perspective. The best time to clean out a refrigerator. None the less you say bi polar and some folks ( not all by any means) get spooked. I get it, really.

Third, I am menopausal, I think this needs no further explanation. except to say can some please for all that is good and Holy turn the air conditioner down. It's hot in here!!

My point is that it is going to take a special kind of man do accept and deal with all these things. I remain hopeful. and until I meet him, I will make sure I have cab fare, and money to pay the check just in case "the Date" bolts on me. I love my life and you know what, I wouldn't change one day, one minute, one second. It is what has built me to be stronger, braver, and smarter than I ever was before! Would I refer some things hadn't happened? Of course, it just is not the life I was given. So get out there and love someone, your wife or husband, a friend who needs a hug, your children, just love someone, Even if they cant find a spot in their heart for you, remember, loving isn't for keeping it's for sharing, even if my teenage son refuses to clean his room and is on his phone all day, Like all other things in my life it's been worth every moment.

God and Chocolate

This week has forced me to face a few emotional trials in my life.  Like I almost always do when I am feeling unsure or concerned even let down and depressed, I pray. I pray , then I crank up the Christian music, and the hunt begins.  Tonight it actually involved several people and finally a great friend came to my aid. During these breakdowns, which are rare, I need Chocolate. I mean I NEED Chocolate. ( BTW thanks Jen for saving me tonight!) The problem is I am trying very hard to keep sweets out of the house, so in my time of need, there was something of a hunt. After it all settled and I had my music and chocolate I had one of those memories. The ones where the smells and sounds take you back to another place and time. Into the wilderness, where the darkness first found you, For me I smell the hand sanitizer and alcohol, mixed with mascara and the dust from Kleenex.

The day I was told about the cancer I went straight to my WOW CD, a box of Kleenex, and chocolate. I didn't want to talk to people, or be touched. I just wanted to get through these first hours and those are the smells. For the record, I am unable to sit next to a box of Kleenex without feeling that day all over. That Monday. Sitting in the office, the blackness, then a moment in the van on the way home, like snippets of time. They are not fluid memories, Being forced to tell neighbors long before I was prepared, Snippets of time. minutes inside of moments. I didn't want to tell people because then it would be real.

But my then husband, seeking his own comfort, immediately climbed out of the car and made a beeline for a neighbor. In all honestly that was the first time in my journey I felt so completely betrayed. I know he needed comfort though. Next rushing to tell my son, Again feeling betrayed. I needed a moment. The world spinning out of control. Feeling like I was tilted on my axis. But there is was on the coffee table in the little Walgreen's bag. God and Chocolate. I had purchased some of the elixir all women know well, and a book of daily devotionals. I had to get out of my head and this was how I would do it. The music fit perfectly, some gave me strength and some made me cry. Some of the devotional did the same thing. But I allowed myself to go there privately. Not in public, though, never in public. I allowed my son see me to grieve so he knew it was OK to feel bad, but only to a point. I shut down.

Everyone seemed to know, I got endless pity. Oh the pity. If you ever want to feel utterly useless and without value, get a dose of pity. Why did the cashier need to know that I had cancer? The woman at the Dress shop? Everyone. I never had a choice, I just wanted to be invisible. I started walking and then running,on the treadmill music blasting, all the while eating my chocolate. It was a strange little peace I got. For those moments I was the toughest chick in town. I could handle anything. Seriously try it one day. God and Chocolate.

Which brings me back to tonight. I can still not sit around a box of Kleenex, I can still smell the dust! The music is fading the milk duds have seen their last, and I am feeling strong. My prayers as always have been ever heard. The well is never really dry is it? With prayer and and faith, some loud worship music, and here I am A warrior continuing her fight. A single mother who was feeling alone in the world. Crying over something  I wont remember next month. In some ways alone , but in many others I am surrounded by friends and family.  Oh , and don't forget , a little God and Chocolate.

It's not about me...

This Post is Inspired by a Dear friend undergoing her own fight for life. She is a hero to so many and a true light in this world. I will not use her name right now without her permission, but I hope to introduce her to you one day. To her, All my love this morning, Sweet Friend!

This Morning I was sitting here in my big overstuffed comfy chair that I bought at the height of my illness so I could curl up in comfort and be around my family without being jarred or bumped on accident. Just being touched was more than I could bear. The very things I loved most about my family life, I retreated from. I have always loved the small spaces in a home. The spots where you squeeze past one another and constantly find yourself crowded. One of my favorite songs even after all these years is Love Grows Best in Little Houses , by Doug Stone. I am claustrophobic but still enjoy the coziness of small spaces. Just not closed in spaces. Not the point...

So when I  felt myself pulling into the safety of my own" little house" and the comfort of my inviting chair I had to give some thought to what brought me here.  Here, being the time I spend traveling as an advocate and now a writer. Am I writing as a way to heal my body and soul? Not really. It may help though. I hold things very close to my heart and recount with some distance my experiences, so I don't have to think about it. I remember back to days where I was speaking in front of large crowds and telling my story in both small groups and also huge venues. Telling in intimate detail about my cancer and all that it robbed me of.  I am much better in front of a large group.

It was always because I never wanted any other girl, to be "that girl" you know the one, she avoided screenings out of fear, she lived in extreme pain and breathed through it because that's what a woman does. You know her, the one we whisper about at family reunions,
     "shh, let's not bring up so and so's pregnancy, you know she can't have babies... if only she had gone to the Doctor. " or " she was so young , why didn't she just get checked, I guess we'll never know..."  I was telling my story, jumping up and down, shouting  to anyone who would listen. For a privae person, a whole lot of people know about my vagina.

It just wasn't about me, it never was. It was about my son, about my parents, and my brothers. It was about the other mothers who would have to call her children and parents and tell them those words...I have cancer. I say I a lot, normally a bad thing, but in this case I am willing to be the before and the after. The example of what not to do. but in order to do that I need to tell my whole story. The good the bad and the ugly. I just never want another woman to lose all that she holds dear, or a man lose his reproductive or sexual function because a Dr. walks in and walks out. or more likely, because they never went.  I'm told all the time how brave or strong or tough I am. But you see, it's not about me. This fight was never about me. It was really about you, reading this blog.

Voiceless Agony

I remember once,  before cancer, lying on a bed in an ER where I had been brought for some extreme symptoms including intense pain. I will not at anytime during my writings share things that some may find hard to swallow due to personal sensitivity.  So I will use terms like extreme symptoms in their place. Anyway, as I lay there writhing in pain and refusing the pain medication so they wouldn't write me off asa whiner or drug shopper, (I lived at the time in Florida where this is a real problem) a woman came in the room. It was a moment that I will not forget as long as I live. She was in her all too peppy scrubs and so was not right away identified as the Dr. she purported herself to be. She assured me that all of my symptoms stemmed from one simple cause. I was Fat. I was overweight, no argument, but that had nothing to do with my symptoms at that moment.

I was becoming frustrated because nothing I did would stop the gaining of weight, including refusing to eat. She did the most brutal exam I had experienced to date (or even since). She was a snobbish woman and treated me as though I was no better than an animal. She never ordered an ultrasound, never did testing beyond my blood sugar, even when I challenged her. At that time my son was just eleven years old. I worried about anything that could take me away from him. I still am. I knew it was more than being fat or, as she insinuated, absolutely gluttonous. I knew it in my gut. But I sat silently. I was so off put that after she shot down my challenging questions I went quiet. It is worth noting at this point that based on the growth and development of my cancer and its cell type I already had cancer for some time. A simple examination and ultrasound would have diagnosed my cancer with in a few days. The type of cancer that I have commonly exists with a normal pap smear. It isn't and HPV based cancer, so that wouldn't have helped me. I have learned that protocol would have been to do an ultrasound. I could be bitter. I could be angry. It wouldn't change anything and would only hurt me. By the time I learned exactly how many opportunities were missed for diagnosis, my heart did break a little. None the less, I clammed up.
                                                                       
The problem was, I was so hurt and upset after having been told that the only medication I needed was help to put a fork down. Her words. I never fought back. In fact I ate almost nothing and could barely move. Stairs proved impossible.  I understood that I was diagnosed with MS ( as I have said before incorrectly)but the she wasn't interested in the treatment I was or was not getting. Simply that I was fat and she believed I was diabetic. Did she listen to me? No. Instead, she did raise her voice about my refusal to accept the obvious. I would not be diagnosed as a diabetic until about 3 years later after my cancer was into treatment, After I had gained even more weight and became even more immobile.  I was moo-ed at in public and humiliated at each turn in reaching out for help. Which helped slow down my diagnosis another year. I found it hard to trust the medical community. I came to them for help and instead was reprimanded and chided. I am easily cooperative and do my best to keep accurate medical records and a complete family history at my Primary Care Doctors' office. Her cruelty very nearly killed me.

I am not saying that to get your sympathy, this just happens to be my story. I want to say that throughout the ordeal that went on so long, I was in the fight, no matter how often the people who could have helped me tried to push me out. Lesson number one- God gave you a voice, use it! He gave us instincts, so we need to listen to them. Trust our guts and then seek the advice of people who should know better, but don't be afraid to ask more questions, get second opinions, and fight for our bodies, for our lives. The Doctor on the other side of that stethoscope is human, All humans have bad days and make mistakes. One life has any more or less value than another. What is done with the life maybe, but not the life. If only...

The little moral of today's entry is this. That day in the hospital, while I was being called fat and told I ate too much and my blood sugar was to blame...my A1C which monitors the average blood sugars was a well in the normal range as it had been for months and months. I had early stage renal failure and they assumed it was diabetic related. It was not. It was related to the medications that I had been kept on for years to keep other symptoms at bay. I knew this in my bones. I Spoke to friends and family about it, but never argued with the Doctor about it after that first day,not once. Instead,  I waited until they left the room and cried. It very nearly cost me my life, and it did cost me my fertility.

 

To end on a high note or irony at the very least, my uncle, who upon reading this will know exactly to whom I am referring, used to call me ratchetjaw...ask around if you don't know what that means...its pretty funny. ( This picture is me during the ratchet jaw years, lol)

In the beggining...

     On December 7, 2008 I had my own little day that would live in infamy. My worst fears were realized and a substantial tumor presented itself. The ER docs did the best they could to hide their knowing expressions, but I saw the looks and I knew in my heart it was cancer. I don't know how except that It was in my heart. I waited for my Dr. to call me with the results and on a Friday she said come on in. its no big deal just a follow up. So I went. it was 8 days after the er visit. I was sitting in a chair when she walked in to the unusually stark white room. I was shaking already. My body knew. My heart knew. She started her sentence with something like you have adenocarcinoma of unknown origin.
Cancer. Fantastic! For this post, I'm going to skeleton version of events leading t this day of mine. but i will expand in the future.

     This is where I need to take you back for a little while in my world to 12 almost 13 years prior. I lived in another state at the time and had ongoing health problems starting slightly before my pregnancy but escalating from then on. I was tested and prodded and poked and was treated for a number of ailments. I was diagnosed by one Dr. as having Epstein Barr's Syndrome, only to find out during a second opinion that no that couldn't be it. I was sent to clinic after clinic and hospital after hospital. Where I was diagnosed and began being treated for Multiple Sclerosis. I underwent the treatment and "episodes" for about 5 years I believe. Maybe 6 but none the less far too long. I asked for a Ct scan and was denied, I went to and endocrinologist who immediately had me start seeing a gynecologist oncologist, who found the Atypical Hyperplasia.(precancerous nearing a cancerous state) he followed me regularly removing these cells and telling me to make decisions about future children, since I might need to move on to a more serious procedure. So I shut my mouth. WHAT WAS I THINKING? Hindsight is 20/20 and now I understand I should have demanded more information more test. Endometrial Cancer is one cancer that doest show up in normal testing until its too late to really preserve fertility, even life.

     Back to diagnosis, I now know that all the treatments I underwent in fact slowed the growth of my cancer but there it had been the whole time, like a time bomb in my uterus waiting to go off. slowly spreading and growing. So how can I be mad. How can I be frustrated, but here I was filled with anger and resentment. What I was dealing with was Endometriod Adenocarcenoma. A disease that usually presents between the ages of 54 and 63. A menopausal cancer. I was 36 at my diagnosis. I had been trying to have more children since my son was just a year old. Now that dream was gone. I still kept my mouth shut and let the the  Gynecologic oncologist take the lead, I don't think i spoke a word during the first consult with Oy GYNONC. I was shaking too hard. He is a wonderful Dr. and looking back it would not matter for me , however, I think of all those women who would have benefited from asking more questions or looking into other treatment options. this would roll around in my head constantly while I started researching to find out where I went wrong.

     Now I was determined to find out the unknown of my story and to help other women to find the truth of theirs. To have the strength to ask questions and demand options, to be brave and save their lives on their terms. So I began a new chapter of my live. Advocate, Lobbyist, public speaker, and a friend to both men and women who suffered from reproductive cancers. It has been four years since I started this long and winding road from actual diagnosis, to remission. As I move forward I will talk about the pre-cancerous days and how they affect my life now, and where I go from here. I hope you will stay with me through this journey, learn and share the information and know that the biggest part of recovery, is on occasion, opening your mouth and demanding better.