Not Today, Cancer.
As Thanksgiving hits Canada this weekend, I have so much to be thankful for.
It’s been a roller coaster couple of weeks. As some of you know, or don’t know, I’ve been feeling pretty awful for the last few months.
Symptoms: extreme exhaustion, brain fog, irritability, brittle finger nails, bloating, constant stomach pain, loose BM’s, occasional muscle aches, lethargy, headaches, chronic fatigue.
Diagnosis a few months ago: diverticulositis. Doc told me to Google a diet to heal this and sent me on my way. The naturopath suggested an elimination diet. After months of no grains, no gluten, no processed foods, no deep fried foods, limited raw veggies, heavy on the protein and fat (most women don’t eat enough of either)- nothing has changed.
Back to the docs I went. I asked for a complete, full panel blood work req to look at everything: my liver and kidney function, my hormones, my minerals, my everything.
Results: incredibly low iron and a low white blood cell (WBC) count. My doc, the sweet, sweet angel that he is was worried about both and because he’s so thorough, he made me aware that low WBC can be indicative of blood cancers. He suggested we run a cytometry test to rule out cancer. Hearing that word freaked me out. Cancer runs in my family as fast as Usain Bolt: both my paternal grandparents died of cancer, two of my paternal uncles had cancer and my maternal grandmother was riddled with cancer as well. Not to mention the amount of toxins we are inadvertently subjected to everyday it wasn’t ridiculous to worry that maybe I did have a blood cancer.
I called Clay after the appointment and told him the doctor was worried about blood cancers and that I was doing further testing that same day. He was calm but worried too. I was a bawling mess. What if? My three littles wouldn’t remember me. Maybe Cal-he’s five but his memories would be limited and likely to fade as the years passed by. The other two for sure would not remember me. I couldn’t imagine my kids not knowing who their mother was. It rattled me. What would my husband do without me? Four kids and a business to run? Who would help us if I needed treatments? Who would help him if this was a worst case scenario. What iffffffff…..The questions plagued me.
I went to the grocery store after I did the cytometry test trying to keep it together to get the few items we needed. In hindsight I should've asked Clay to pick them up on his way home but I thought a distraction would be good for me. Wrong. I should’ve sat with my worry and got to know it so I could tell it that no matter what happened, we would face it head on and with vigour. I should’ve left my tears fall freely in my vehicle instead of trying to will myself to stop. I should’ve felt it all so I could find the calm and reasoning I needed to face the next few days while we waited.
As I walked around the grocery store, all I could think was, “what the fuck am I doing here? I could have cancer slowly killing my body and I’m trying to find fucking spaghetti sauce? Look at all these other people here, going about their day not knowing my world could be shattered in a few days time.” That trip up and down the aisles gave me a better insight into “treat everyone with kindness. You don’t know what they’re going through.”
A couple nights later, the results came up on my eHealth account but I couldn’t open it. This made me think, “they probably don’t want you to find out you have cancer this way so regardless of the outcome, I bet they want to talk to you face-to-face.” I emailed my doctor begging him to check the results for me and to call me immediately. He never responded but the next morning his office called to ask me to come in. He gravely told me that the test wasn’t complete and he wasn’t sure why it was posted online but knowing I was worried, he had called the lab to expedite the test. The lab said they would have it done by 4:00 that day. This was 1:00 and I wasn’t sure I could get through the next three hours. Thankfully, an hour and a half later while driving home from the park with the kids, he called. Negative. No signs of lymphoma, leukemia or myeloma.
If I had’ve been standing, my legs would’ve given out. I felt my entire body turn into jello as I listened to the doctor. Reliving this now brings tears to my eyes. Despite the rare moments when I was calm and rational saying, “he’s just being thorough, it’s probably nothing” I didn’t truly know. No one did. Clay would try to reassure me and I’d swing back and forth from a calm “you’re probably right-I’m fine” to a frantic “but you don’t actually know Clay! You don’t!”
But I’m cancer free. For sure. Woohoo, because I know many aren’t as lucky as I am and they hear “it’s cancer” more than often than not. I’m still doctoring with my naturopath and awaiting a food sensitivity test result and an iron transfusion at the end of the month. I hope one gives me answers and one gives me relief.
So on this weekend of giving thanks, I am so incredibly thankful for my doctor, our notably poor medical system that rushed to my rescue and my few friends who knew what was going on and who checked in on me regularly. I considered telling no one but my thoughts and feelings were too scattered and deep to swim that alone. Plus, I learned, prayers don’t do fuck all when something may already be ravaging your body. I didn’t want to hear about people’s prayers and well wishes nor did I want to hear assurances for something they couldn’t truly assure me about. So I told a few and let them keep me buoyed in this storm.
I’m grateful for my husband whose relief was similar to mine when I called him with the news: a full body jelly moment. He’s my rock and my everything. And I know I am his too.
I’m grateful for my kids. My darling, wild, feral, loving, sweet children who I love and appreciate everyday but whom I love even deeper (if that’s even possible) and appreciate even more after being faced with a scare like this. They don’t know why Mommy’s been hugging them more and telling them how much I love them but I know they are reciprocating this deep love right back to me. That’s all a mama can ask for.
You never know what could happen and what might be happening unbeknownst to you or them. Be free with your ‘I love you's’ and give extra long hugs. Don’t take your health for granted. Advocate for yourself. Believe you deserve to be the healthiest you can be. Let the kids sleep with you when they ask. Snuggle close. Love so deeply, your loved ones know it’s a bottomless love. Ask for tests; most docs won’t go beyond the basics. Lean on your loved ones. Don’t go to the grocery store when you really just need a good cry. Feel your emotions. Give good goodbyes: who knows if it’ll be the last or one of the lasts. Be grateful for everything good in your life and say it aloud each day.