Post Surgery

I am alive. My normal phrase typically conveys that I’m also vertical and kicking, but we’ll stick to alive for this particular blog post.

Before I get started on the events of the last five-ish days, I feel the necessity to share the gratitude that I feel for the people in my life that are close to me. Jason and the boys, of course are my heart, entertainment, and cause for breathing. I feel very blessed to have the truest love of my children and my husband.

Christina, my esteemed colleague and bestest friend in the universe (mostly for her Spork Meta-Philosophy) is my twin soul, twin brain and twin heart. I’m not real sure how I sustained myself for 32 years without her, but you can bet your sweet ass that I won’t be sustaining another minute without her consult. She flew in a few days prior to the surgery to be with us, she didn’t shut me up when I looked at the absolute worst case scenarios, instead she examined them with me and popped that bubble in the universe for the worst case scenario to play out. She held my hand when I cried, she listened when I needed to talk it through, and she knew just what to say when I was feeling bleak. Without her as my Recovery Management Specialist, I’m pretty certain my children would be attending their first day of school tomorrow with faux-hawk mullets and kool-aid mustaches. I’d be eating hamburger helper (blech) and my dogs would be in separate pounds somewhere waiting for bail. Christina is the glue that holds my life together. I try to tell her how much she’s loved, but I’m not sure words will ever be able to convey just how much we need, love and want her in our lives. I am utterly convinced that our friendship is the most magical in the universe. We’re a dream team, professionally. Ivy League meets Sarcastic, Smart ass – you won’t find a team that is faster, more intuitive or efficient than we. We’re a force to be reckoned with in love and life – we stand for truth and truth alone. And the fun. Oh the fun we have – and to think it’s only begun. I just want to publically state that Christina is my other half. The sister I always prayed for, the inspiration in my life I so desperately needed, and the Godmother to my children. I love her, and thank her for all that she is, all that she has been, and all that she will be.

So, this has been quite a journey, and it seems to be the gift that just keeps on giving. Whodathunk this would’ve turned into a damn cancer blog? Right? I don’t write about cancer. I write about crime. Justice. Injustice. And now, apparently not just any cancer, but my cancer.

Going into the surgery was a tidbit terrifying. I was terrified that maybe I wouldn’t wake up from the surgery. I was terrified that maybe they’d find more than cervical cancer in there (they did.). I was terrified I’d learn I’d have to do chemotherapy and radiation and that life as I knew it was over. I did survive the surgery. That’s one down.

When I went in for the hysterectomy, the deal with Dr. Kelly was that she and her colleague would do the surgery. They would first take out the left ovary, biopsy that and send it to the cancer lab to have it tested. If that came back clear, they would continue the hysterectomy, it would take a few hours – they’d take the cervix, which we already knew was a stage 2 squamous cell cancer, which she scooped most of out – when she did the cone procedure. That still had positive margins though, so it had to go. We were proof positive of the cervical cancer, but I felt the ovarian cancer.

With the ovary – the left one in particular, it caused a ton of pain. The days proceeding my period, it felt like a butcher knife was sticking out of my ovary. This has been around since April. They knew there was a mass there, but they didn’t know what it was. The only way to officially diagnose ovarian cancer is to biopsy the ovary – so the only way for her to do that was to do that while she was in there. I was advised against having that biopsy done. I was advised against taking that ovary. I was told about the increased risk for breast cancer, heart disease, yada, yada, yada. I felt that there was a problem, and on the 25^th when we had my Pre-Op, I requested that the doctor 1) do the surgery abdominally, not vaginally. 2) Take the left ovary. That was the deal.

If the lab came back that the left ovary was cancerous, the deal was, Dr. Kelly would stop the surgery, go out and inform my family (Jason and Grandma) and then the GYN Oncologist would take over the surgery from there.

The left ovary did indeed come back as cancerous, so the oncologist took over, removed both ovaries, both fallopian tubes, cervix, uterus and then he biopsied my lymph nodes, my intestinal lining, did a stomach wash, and now, I await the determination from those findings tomorrow.

As far as being just out of surgery – I’m sore. I’m very sore, very slow moving. My incision hurts like an SOB, and I’m a bit wiley. I have turned out to be even more opinionated and headstrong than I was with ovaries. I’m not sure if this is a good thing or not. It’ll be interesting to watch that play out.

As far as results tomorrow, I guess we’ll see. From all I’ve read on borderline tumors in ovarian cancer it looks like if I’m lucky, it’s gone, they got it all, and now I have to have CT Scans and pap smears every 3 months for the rest of my life. That’s the best case scenario. The other option is that it spread into my abdominal cavity, stomach, intestines or lymph nodes, and then I’m in trouble. That will require chemo, radiation and all sorts of therapy to reach a cancer free-state.

From here on out, I’m the oncologist’s patient. I’m hoping for as many answers as possible tomorrow.

From there, I’ll write more, I guess. I don’t know emotionally where I’m at, because I’m still in a bit of a drug induced haze. I’m worried, scared, tired of all this cancer shit and ready to just be done. I had hoped we’d reach that point on September 3^rd.

For those who feel that doctors are a scary bunch, that tend to help you trip over your own thoughts, like me – I have one thing to say to you…If you hear something from your doctor, and you disagree – push. Push back. If you feel like something’s up with your body, then that’s the signal, and likely the only one you’ll get that you need to do something about it. Ovarian cancer is the highest ranked woman killer out there. The reason for this is simple – you hear quotes like “Ovarian cancer is rare. Ovarian cancer is extremely rare. Those symptoms you have can be fatigue, PMDD, and on and on and on…”

Push back until you get the answer you’re looking for. In my case, a CA-125 test saved my life, because without that little number being elevated, my doctor likely wouldn’t have removed my ovary, and had she not done that, we would’ve just done a complete hysterectomy, leaving both ovaries, and cancer still in me. She listened to me. And I will be forever in debt for her simple ability to trust me.