Lucid Madness

I never thought it would happen to me…

We had just moved back to Kansas from Oregon in October of 2003. My mother had recently been diagnosed with ALS, so I packed up as quickly as I could to be with her and to help as needed. There was an amazing amount of stress (moving, working from home, Mom, family dramas) and I chalked up many of my early symptoms to this stress. Shortly after arriving in Kansas, I began to notice spotting after a bowel movement or after sex and in the last couple of months the spotting had turned into bleeding.

Being a new patient, it took me a while to get into the gynecologist.  Of course, I just scheduled an annual pap (thinking nothing major was the cause of my bleeding) and figured I mention it to him while I was there. My appointment was on September 15, 2004. On the night of the 14th, Jason (my better half) was teasing me about shaving my legs for the doctor.  He said I never shave for him.  I explained to the doctor about my spotting and recent bleeding and he suggested it might be ‘break-through’ bleeding, which could be easily controlled with a low-dose, estrogen based birth control pill. I was not to be so lucky.  To walk out of his office with a prescription for birth control pills would have been a blessing, for shortly after beginning the exam he told me that I had an ‘erosion’ on my cervix and needed to take a biopsy. I’m not stupid.  I know what biopsies are for.  Biopsies are to diagnose CANCER!  Suddenly I was screaming inside.  My mind was spinning.  I tried to talk myself into waking up.  After all, this was just a bad dream.  Right?  Wrong.  But wait.  He didn’t say the ‘C’ word.  Maybe it’s all going to be okay.  Maybe he knows that it’s something else and just wants the biopsy to confirm.  There has to be a way for me to get out of this.

The nurse and doctor helped me up and I could see the concern in his eyes. He told me that he knew I was only going to hear one of the words that came out of his mouth, but urged me to listen carefully to all the possibilities. He was right - cancer, cancer, cancer, cancer, cancer…  It rang through my ears and I could feel my face flush, a lump grew in my throat and a fire in my stomach ignited. He was talking.  I could see his lips moving, but I don’t know what he said.  He was right; I only heard that one word, even though I tried hard to hear it all. I closed my eyes and shook my head snapping myself back into the moment, only to hear him say that he will call me the minute the results landed on his desk. He said that he, “…might have them by Friday - but not to count on it.”  It would likely be Monday before I would know anything for sure. His beeper went off and he headed out the door saying something about delivering a baby. But what about me?  What was I supposed to do for the next 5 days?  For the next 5 minutes?  I think I might have some questions…

He was gone and I was left alone.  I didn’t know what to do.  I quickly dressed, swallowed hard to hold back my tears and left the doctor’s office in such a rush that the waiting room was a blur.  I think I may have stumbled or ran into a potted plant or something on my way out, but I just wanted to get out of there.  I knew that I needed to get out of there. I hurried to the van, crawled in, opened my purse and grabbed my cigarettes and a lighter. Why wouldn’t I?  It’s what I always do when I’m nervous.  When I am anxious, bored, mad, sad or happy.  Let’s just face it; it’s what I always do. I smoke.

I slid the cigarette between the first two fingers of my left hand while my other two fingers and thumb grasped the steering wheel. In my right hand:  the lighter.  I contemplated - should I light it?  Should I throw the whole damn box out the window? The doctor did just tell me that I might have cancer.  Why am I going to smoke?  Damage must already be done I tell myself.  But I can’t smoke in the new van anyway.  I promised Jason I wouldn’t.

Upon arriving home, I went straight to the back yard with the cigarette that was still between my fingers and I smoked it. I needed it.  I wanted it.  This time it didn’t taste the same. Every time I inhaled, I imagined the chemical filled smoke rushing to the cancer cells in my body and feeding them.  I imagined the cancer growing and become stronger.  Although I was disgusted, I could not stop.  Not yet.

I wanted to call my mom so badly - but I just couldn’t.  I did not want to worry her. She has been through so much.  She had lost all three of her brothers; watching the third one waste away before dying.  Now she was battling ALS, facing an incurable illness herself.  How could I tell her that her oldest daughter might be too?  I called her anyway.  Just to hear her voice, the voice of mother is always so comforting to me.  I made up some excuse for my call - I told her I was just checking on her van since Jack had just fixed it the day before.  It was a quick call and I felt better but I still needed to talk.  I needed to tell someone what I was facing.  I called Jason but I couldn’t tell him either.  Again, I was comforted, but I just asked him to come see me at lunchtime.  I called my sister, Eileen, and she didn’t answer her phone so I left her a message.  By now, I was sobbing.  I didn’t want to alarm her but I couldn’t hold back anymore. I needed to cry - and I finally did.

Eileen called back and she said she had been at the doctor.  As it turns out, she too had been at the gynecologist.  Her appointment had been 30 minutes after mine with the same doctor.  She came over and we talked. She stayed with me for a while. I needed that. She went with me to pick up my spunky 4 year old from pre-school.  I was so grateful that Steph was there because I didn’t have to do all the talking with Paige.  I could barely look at Paige that day without bursting into tears.  Who would take care of her after I died of cancer?  Who would take care of my son, Taylor?  There were so many things to tend to before I could die.  How would I ever get it all done?

I wasn’t a complete wreck the next couple of days, but I was very worried about the call I knew I would be receiving.  I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat and I couldn’t concentrate on work.  Since I had so many questions and no one to ask, I spent a good part of the day researching cervical cancer on the Internet, which turned out to be a bad idea. I scared myself half to death with my internet research. The straight facts were frightening:  hysterectomy, spreading to lymph nodes, lungs, bladder, rectum, chemotherapy, radiation, survival rates. WHY ME? Why do I have to die? I wanted at least a chance to raise my daughter, to teach her all she needs to know and to have that special bond with her and to share all the special mother/daughter delights with her.  I was afraid that would never be.On Friday, I got the news that I indeed had cancer and the doctor mentioned stage Ib. He couldn’t stage it for sure without CT Scans, MRIs and X-rays. He said that he recommends a radical hysterectomy and said that he would have to refer me to a gynecological oncologist. I chose Denver knowing that we could be close to family there. They scheduled me for a radical hysterectomy in 2 weeks and I was scared. Not just scared of the surgery, but also of what else they might find! I had gone trough so many emotions in the last few days that I was completely wiped out.  Exhausted again.

My search on the internet did herald one thing that brought me peace then and continues to bring me peace each day.  It was a quote by Mark Twain:

“I was born with an incurable disease, so was everybody–the same one that every machine has–and the knowledge of the fact frightens nobody, damages nobody; but the moment a name is given the disease, the whole thing is changed: fright ensues, and horrible depression, and the life that has learned its sentence is not worth the living. Medicine has its office, it does its share and does it well; but without hope back of it, its forces are crippled…”

Reading this quote and contemplating it allowed me to step back away from my life and its latest catastrophe.  To realize that everything is as it should be, and that I am no different today than I was 3 days ago.  I still have my moments when I lose site of the peace that I know is within me. When my mind starts spinning and the lump returns in my throat and the fire in my stomach erupts.  I know that when that happens, I need to write - so I can release my thoughts rather than keeping them in. Keeping my thoughts in now only serves to fuel the fire that will simply exhaust me…and I cannot afford to be exhausted. I must be strong for I have a battle to fight and for my family - I will win.