Ok just to be clear, I am high as a kite right now on some glorious mixture of painkillers that I don't even question and just swallow down like a good little patient. Apologies in advance for tangents, nonsensical and otherwise.
Anyway. With all the news about famous cancer patients (ie Farrah, Patrick Swayze), the recurring non-truth I hear espoused is that getting diagnosed with cancer is a life changing event, like right in the moment that the C Word is applied to you and/or your person. And I am only one person and can only speak from my experience but that wasn't what happened to me or many of the people I have talked to in the same shoes.
Truthfully, I was more put out at the idea of the time and expense of cancer than I was aware of the potential for death. I know, I know. Cancer is something we're all supposed to fear but I think a combination of things, namely that I was told initally it was pre-cancerous growths at worst and therefore had moved beyond being afraid of the real deal and also that we had so much other going on at the time (deaths deaths deaths, moving cross country, picking up a fourth kid along the way) that I was just like, fuck me. Seriously? Cancer? I have no time for cancer. Fuck cancer in the eye, I will give it none of my valuable resources, so there, deadly tissue, put that in your pipe and smoke it, bitch.
Yeah, I know. But honestly, I had so much other going on, you know, ''valid'' concerns (ha) that I was just pissed. Like cancer was some additional chore on my already full To Do list and I would get to it, eventually, but I wasn't going to be happy about it and I was damn sure not rearranging my life around it.
In my defense, when I was told I had cancer, at the time of the original diagnoses, it was also presented to me as something of a cancer-lite. Stage one, a few rounds of chemo and you will be rearing to go again in no time. And I believed that shit, full stop.
Now here is where I recognize a tangent coming on and warn you in advance but rather than advising you to skip it, I plead with you to stay with me for a minute. There is almost no such thing as finding Ovarian cancer stage one; by the time you're having symptoms, it's almost assured it's already progessed to Stage two. Now, yes, yes, there ARE some people ''lucky'' enough to catch things before they go wild in a regular once-a-year screening. Not often, but yes fortunately, it does happen on occasion.
Which is where I get preachy about two things: One, ladies and people who love ladies, keep up with that dreaded once-a-year check up. I know, you have to take time off work, it's expensive if you're not insured (go to Planned Parenthood or the Health Department), it's a pain in the ass to get a sitter or bring the kids but let me tell you from this side of things it is a shitting lot easier to drag kids to the gyn than it is to explain why you're bringing them to your chemo or radiation appointments. Trust me on this and get your fancy place checked out, on schedule, every year. Please. You're worth it.
Two, pay attention to your body. You know what feels right and you know when something is out of whack. My body went slowly off track in March of last year. But I was busy. My dad broke his ankles, my sister was wilding out, I was trying to help my mom, save my marriage. You know, living life and ignoring some abhorrently self evident symptoms because I didn't have time to deal with them. No, no. I am not playing the poor, poor selfless card, so busy paying attention to others that I ignored myself. No. I was just too lazy to pick up the phone and make an appointment. Simple as that, honestly. Because nobody dreads the Dr like me and any excuse was as good as the next and I just didn't want to deal with one more Dr poking (hee) one more place on my body.
But when you bleed so much your bed looks like a crime scene in the morning, when you're so tired after sleeping for ten uninterupted hours, when your cramps are suddenly so fierce you have flashbacks to labor pains (no, really), when your moods swing wildly (even for me) and crying seems like an avocation, when things are wrong or different, get thee to a Dr. Yeah, I know! Easier said than done, especially when child-care and money are considerations but please I implore you, utilize Planned Parenthood, go to the Health Department and if daycare isn't available, take the kids with you. Please. Note that my body began it's revolt in March and I was diagnosed in NOVEMBER. I will be the first to point the finger at the drag assing my Drs did from a liability limiting prespective because of the MRSA but nobody dragged their feet more than me both in the beginning and also in following directions and orders after the fact.
Whew. That was a lot of soap boxing. Sorry, guys. But honestly, don't neglect your lady bits. It's just not worth it. Really, really not worth it. Also, now that I have been given the go ahead for ''real'' food, I don't really want it. I know, weird. I just want juice, milk, broth sometimes and more milk. It's strange, I don't really know what that is about because before the surgeries, all I wanted was carbs carbs carbs.
Which brings me back to following orders. I didn't, a lot. I didn't rest like I was supposed to (in my defense though, how do you rest with four kids even when you aren't sick), I certainly didn't take all the meds I was supposed to and I pushed every limit because I thought somehow if lunch wasn't made or clothes weren't washed or dishes sat in the sink I was letting cancer ''win''. Well. Cancer always wins. Period. You can fight it or you can submit and understand the people trying to take care of you may, just may, know a little more than you about the disease and you would do well to listen up. No, it doesn't make help or support show up at your door but in my case, had I spent a literal few dollars a week to have a helper come in and help with the upkeep of the house and kids, I would have saved many dollars on being hospitilized for what has turned into months. Not saying that a housekeeper would have kept the cancer from progressing, that is non-sense, but I would have physically been in a lot better shape to fight it.
Now, speaking of following orders, let's talk about when to do the exact opposite. When I was first in the hospital, the dietician was all, ''veggies!! lean meat!! protein!! antioxidants!!'' which, on a given day, is great nutritional advice. However, if following same said orders makes your stomach hurt, renders you unable to poop and/or makes you vomit, do what your body tells you to do and don't apologize. I wanted milk, I wanted cupcakes, I wanted potato pancakes, I wanted cheese and I didn't want to throw up constantly. At times, compromise is required. I cannot say I developed a taste for V8 juice ( I mean, it's fine, I do like it sometimes but it wasn't what I wanted per se) but have a protein shake or vegetable juice to get mashed potatos that will stay down or a milk shake that will soothe rather than violate your body and sense of well being and give you even a little bit of control over your own self.
Yowza. So yeah. There is all that, random as hell but things I wanted to say. Am now coming down from the painkiller cocktail so that means I will wrap this up and nap because man, staying awake for the crash is for suckers.
shan, i am so glad you're here!
thanks for telling everyone. my best friend had ovarian cancer. yes, there is no time to lose when you feel anything is off.
continue to take care of yourself. you deserve it.
intentions for complete healing to you and a long and happy life.
Posted by: spider | May 19, 2009 at 03:25 PM
Yeah, I am kind of speechless here.
It's not that I didn't sense all of this, because you are not all that subtle when changing the subject...but still.
Everyone reacts differently when hearing the words, "You have cancer." It knocked the breath out of me, but then inspired my normally easy going and fairly lazy ass to mobilize my armies of arsenals. For the first time in ages I utilized every brain cell and actually behaved as if I really do have the IQ they say I do.
I fought like hell, found the best generals, fabulous troops of all kinds, and focused my energy like a lazer on killing cancer before it killed me--screw my (horrible) odds, I was, at the very least, going down fighting. I was given odds of 10-30% of surviving for ONE YEAR.
It's nine years later, and I am still cancer free. (Obviously the story is a hell of a lot longer, but let's just say, among other things, my surgeon rocked.)
When people ask what my first symptom was, I tell them--I was just so tired.
Cancer makes you tired in a new and complete way that is hard to describe. It also can screw with your ability to make good choices. Lack of energy will do that.
I am rambling too, but I am getting to my point, really, which is that I want to expand your valuable words here to include other cancers. If you have symptoms, a funny mole, sudden reflux, unexplained exhaustion, constant headache, an pain or bulge that you sense is "off" --pay attention. Get it checked. Then, if you aren't up to it, recruit someone who loves you to fight like hell from day one.
Sweetie, I am sending your post to my very best friend who is busy ignoring and rationalizing in almost the exact ways you did. She has a different issue, sudden severe diabetes and heart issues--but I think your words and story may get through to her in a way that I have been unable.
That's what truth does. Shines and lives on to help or touch or inspire others. I think your words here will do that.
Love you
Posted by: woodstove | May 19, 2009 at 03:55 PM
Powerful. Honest. Alive!
Posted by: Headless Mom | May 19, 2009 at 04:53 PM
It's such an interesting phenomenon - I mean, I think most of us do this. My husband will strain his back, and then decide to clean the hell out of the house to prove that his back is FINE.
Yeah, because cancer is EXACTLY like pulling a muscle. You know what I mean, though. Like if we go through our normal day (with a vengeance!) the everything is normal, right? Right?
Nice to see you back.
Posted by: Jen K | May 19, 2009 at 08:17 PM
I think about you pretty much daily. Also, I'm working on my lady bit dysplasia - so that is good. But, hey is it wrong that while watching the farrah fawcett special that all I did was cry and think of you? See how I am making this all about me now? Meh. Anyway you are so awesome! (D. too!)
Posted by: TheAitch | May 19, 2009 at 10:04 PM
I am glad to hear that you are awake and that surgery was successful. One day at a time. Again, prayers for everyones strength and well being.
Posted by: HomeFree | May 19, 2009 at 10:54 PM
So nice to hear you. :)
I know somethings up with mine. Have since September. Took until last week to get to an ultrasound since no doc aside from a 5 minute walk in will see me. It's frustrating as shit, but I'm terrified it's something more then it could be. So you're totally right.
I also worked with someone who knew, as you did, that something was weird. She put it off, put it off. Lost her cervix. No kids. I know she'd go immediately if she had it to do again.
But darlin, you're here and still bitchy. I think you won. :)
Posted by: thordora | May 20, 2009 at 12:11 AM
It is so good to hear from you! I've been following your site for at least a year, and I am always amazed. Your honesty, your frankness..your ability to connect, even with people who have never met you! You and Deels.. what a couple, what a love. You have shown me that it is worth it to fight for it when it's right. Thinking about you, and hoping that you'll be home with the husband and kids you love so much -- SOON AND FEELING GOOD!!
Posted by: Rosemary | May 20, 2009 at 06:33 AM
So good to hear from you again! Thank you for sharing your strong, funny and unique voice. And you've got me convinced - tomorrow I'm setting up an appointment for the dreaded check up!
Posted by: kirsty | May 21, 2009 at 04:14 AM
xoxoxoxo
that is all. ;0)
~K
Posted by: karla | looking towards heaven | May 21, 2009 at 02:13 PM
You rock Shannon! It's so good to hear from you again. Best wishes for a SPEEDY recovery.
Posted by: weejie | May 21, 2009 at 02:37 PM
You rock so hard, Shannon. I've been nagging a friend to get back on schedule with her annual exams, because she always has something else she "has" to do. Luckily, I'm married to an oncologist and able to call "bullshit" on her and nag, nag, nag... but hearing it from someone who is going through what you are going through is the best wake-up call I can think of. So, thanks - and rock on!
:)
Posted by: Velma | May 21, 2009 at 08:55 PM
Thank you for saying "snatch" and "fancy place." I can relate to that with a lot less embarrassment than the proper technical terms.
Posted by: Lea Hernandez | May 21, 2009 at 09:26 PM
Thanks for posting this- my mom just died in December from uterine cancer that was diagonosed in September. Like you when we got the initial diagnosis I was thinking about how we would all need to rearrange shcedules to shuttle back and forth to MSK four times a week and how much would be covered by my parents insurance as opposed to the fact that she could die from this. Like you, I successfully avoided doctors for years- until January. I hope that your recovery is speedy and complete and that maybe one person reading this post will decide to make that appointment today.
Posted by: Liza | May 22, 2009 at 09:24 AM
thinking of you, and wanted you to know that. Just because.
Posted by: Mauzy | May 25, 2009 at 09:41 PM
I am so fucking morose over you.
Sorry I've been away. I hate to admit it--I was afraid of what I would find.
Don't know if it helps, but I've been praying for you.
I haven't been checked out since I lost my insurance five years ago. I keep thinking, what's the point? If I get cancer with no insurance I'll die anyway, not having the ability to pay for treatment.
Maybe I should move to Canada. Hey, it's actually South of here. (Windsor)
mwa-mwa
Posted by: Missy | May 27, 2009 at 03:54 PM
Your are badass, woman.
Posted by: Maria | May 27, 2009 at 09:34 PM
Just checking in to see if you've updated.. thinking about you!
Posted by: Rosemary | May 28, 2009 at 09:41 AM
Mine started with a swollen stomach. I always have had all the other sneaky symptoms thanks to dear old fibromyalgia, but I made a gyn appt. She found a really bad cyst and decided to yank the ovary. Then she found I had stage 3 endometriosis and yanked the whole setup. I know in my heart that I had Stage 1, even though she said I was clean. I just KNOW. She saved my life. Even though I ended up with fibro as a consolation prize.
Women have simply got to kick and scream and demand that insurance cover regular CA-125 just as they do pap smears or we will have many more victims.
Posted by: lorrie | June 04, 2009 at 04:51 PM