Two Years Since Staging

Two years ago today I had a phone call from my oncologist's office scheduling an appointment for 7pm. I'm going to put it out there and suggest that any doctor who wants to see you at 7pm doesn't have good news. So, on a dark, rainy night, we were told I had Stage 1b1 Cervical Cancer. It was no longer a possibility that it might be pre-cancer. It was official. The big C. I stood on a driveway in the cold and cried as I told my two oldest friends, then drove to tell my parents where we all cried together.

I'd like to say that today I sit here a different woman. That life is amazing and it was all worth it. That I've come out the other side healthier and happier. In reality though, my wrist is complete shit. I'm on hectic anti-inflammatories which mean I feel nauseous most of the time. My life is still filled with horribly up-close-and-personal doctors visits and I've gained so much weight that I'm bigger than I have ever been.

Yesterday I did a drive-by of our old apartment in Mermaid Waters. My eyes filled with tears as I drove through those suburban streets. Every stretch of road is filled with memories of being so so sick. Sunshine Boulevard is where my nose rushed with blood thanks to the chemotherapy. Our old apartment on Aquila Court is where I ventured out to put garbage in the bin, bald, for the first time. The stairs to the apartment are a reminder of how out-of-breath I was, how grey I was, how tired I was. The beach is a flash-back to the lonely walks I took myself on, pad stuck to my undies, bawling my eyes out and terrified that I would start bleeding at any moment. Pacific Fair is where the terror came true and my bleeding started, landing me in emergency. It's still so raw.

In a couple of weeks I'll go for yet another pap smear and another MRI. A week ago I had an OT hospital appointment. Two days ago I had a chest x-ray and hand x-rays to try and figure out what the hell is wrong with my wrist. My rheumatologist follow-up is in two weeks. My arm has pins and needles thanks to what I can only assume is a pinched nerve, my lymphedema is playing up and my fertility doc thinks I should do IVF and attempt to freeze some babies but I just can not bring myself to see another god damn medical professional.

So there we have it. Life after cancer in all its glory.