I had been experiencing weird symptoms (severe bleeding) since November that I chalked up to the fact that I was just getting a little older. I had talked to a bunch of my girlfriends who were the same age and who were going through the exact same thing and it was actually quite normal (over 60% of women go through what I had been dealing with) - more details to come in a book. That's right...I'm writing about all of this with all the gruesome details. You're welcome.
When I saw the doctor about what was going on, he said it was normal and I had several options to make it stop: hormone therapy, IUD, implant in my arm, or uterine ablation. Well, the idea of having something inserted into my body grossed me out and freaked me out, so I opted to have the ablation since I was never planning on kids again. And no more periods? Sold!
I was scheduled for my surgery on May 30th and my pre-op appointment was May 16th. On Thursday, the 16th, my doctor went over what I should expect and I signed a bunch of waivers. Yeah, yeah, yeah...let's do this!! Then he told me, just to be on the safe side, "I'd like to take a quick biopsy just in case there's any chance of any cancer, because once we do the surgery, it'll form scar tissue over the cancer making it untreatable."
Biopsy?
The first thing I asked was where were the drugs. I didn't get any. The best way I can describe what having a uterine or cervical biopsy is this: with no pain killers, no xanax, nothing...someone puts a tiny tool waaaaaay too far up inside you and that tool happens to be like a nail clipper and they just SNIP a piece of you out. Of course, when you scream or begin to faint, the male doctor (never again) asks, "Do you want me to stop and reschedule?" Screw you, man. It was traumatic. It was horrifying.
Monday, May 20th:
Me: "Hellllo?"
Caller: "Is this Kathryn?"
Me: "Yes it is!"
Caller: "Good morning, it's Dr. O'Brian. I hope I'm not waking you."
Me: "Not even a little. I've been up working since 5!"
Caller: "Okay, well, I got the results back from your biopsy."
Me: "Awesome!"
Caller: "And I think you need to come in."
My stomach dropped.
He told me the biopsy came back positive for cancer.
James rushed home and we went to see the doctor about the next steps.
Spokane or UW in Seattle?
UW...duh.
I was scheduled for labs, an MRI and immediately had an appointment with Dr. Urban at the University of Washington (best in her field) all in a matter of days. My whole family came to UW with me and she told me after looking at the MRI, it appeared to be uterine cancer. After my exam however, she said it was early stage cervical cancer. Early stage was good!
My options:
1. Chemo and radiation - Nah, that does not sound fun. Pass.
2. Radical hysterectomy - Hmm, a big scar? I can live with that - there'll be a good story to go with it.
The idea of going with the radical hysterectomy was to remove all my reproductive organs and tissues surrounding the areas to ensure nothing got missed. While open, they would remove the lymph nodes to the left and right side of my cervix and test them to be sure nothing had spread. If it spread, they'd stop the surgery, zip me back up, and start the other treatment.
I had my pre-op on May 30th (the day I was supposed to have the other surgery) and my surgery was on the 3rd of June.
I went in, got poked at, drugged up, and I remember the team of surgeons telling me to think of a happy place as I dozed off knowing I'd wake up in an ugly gown in a hospital bed, ready to take some serious naps for the next couple days while I healed up. I even brought my computer so I could get some work done.
When I woke up...my family was in the room watching me and my doctor was sitting on a chair next to me. She told me that the cancer had spread to my lymph nodes. She removed a bunch more to run tests on to see if it had gone any further, but for now, I no longer had my fallopian tubes and I would need to mentally prepare myself because the next steps would be radiation and chemo.
I said, "You'd said originally I was early stage...what stage am I now?"
Stage 3.
I sat there nodding that I understood.
"You said the success rate is 90%. What is it now?"
60-70%.
I nodded again and accepted the information for what it was.
Dr. Urban squeezed my hand and told me we had a plan and to take some time to absorb the information she'd given me.
Since then, I have healed from my partial hysterectomy, gone through several weeks of daily external radiation, 5 rounds of invasive internal Brachey therapy, and 10 rounds of chemo.
Today was my last day of chemo.
In three months, I'll have my PET scan that I know will show I'm free and clear of any and all cancer. I'll spend the next 5 years of my life checking in on this to make sure I'm good.
There have been tears, but mostly, there has been laughter and love. God, so much laughter. So much love.
I couldn't have done this without the absolute unconditional love, strength and support from James, my parents, my family, my daughter, and my friends. I also couldn't have done it without the support of my bosses and co-workers because they knew I wanted to keep working and stay busy and "normal" and I love them all for that.
What James has done for me...has blown my mind. I never thought I could love him more than I already did, and wow - I found myself falling more and more in love with him every day as he took every step with me along the way. Even shuffling steps down the hallways of the hospital for exercise, holding hands and looking out the windows and planning for when I'm better.
I have already started writing details about my experience because I love to share stories. I have a lot to share, and luckily, a lot of then are funny and light-hearted. Some suck, but that's because c'mon...I'm talking about cancer.
But to give you an idea of some of what funny little things I experienced were...here's a short story:
Dr. Kim, who was handling the Internal Brachey Therapy (internal radiation) had to give me an examination. This had to have been my 10th exam because everyone needed to get a look-see before treating me. With the sheet over her head and me feeling extremely vulnerable and uncomfortable in my stirrups, staring at the ceiling, I heard her say, "Oh! That's a really neat tattoo on your leg! What is that? It's so pretty!"
It wasn't until the next day that I burst out laughing at how inappropriate, yet awesomely funny it was. I know what that poor lady sees everyday...and it's not tattoos on thighs. I freakin' love her.
