My sister, Maria, was diagnosed with cervical cancer in November 2017. In the first few weeks, it became readily apparent to her that there isn’t much information out there for newly diagnosed women. This is unfortunate, considering more than 13,000 cases will be diagnosed this year alone. (https://www.cancer.org/cancer/cervical-cancer/about/key-statistics.html) So, she has now taken it upon herself to write about her experiences – both good and bad. This page will be dedicated solely to her words…and to documenting her road to full recovery.

– Andrina Aragon (a.k.a. proud big sister)

NOTE: You can jump to each blog post by clicking on the following links. Thanks!

Part I – Adulting
Part II – The Show
Part III – A LEEP of Faith
Part IV – No More Secrets
Part V – The Countdown
Part VI – My Life is a Country Song
Part VII – The Cycle of Life
Part VIII – It Takes a Village
Part IX – Going to War
Part X – Shit Happens
Part XI – The Marathon
Part XII – Last Call
Part XIII – It Feels Like the First Time
Part XIV – Hurry Up and Wait
Part XV – The Aftershocks: A Year Later

How COVID-19 Turned Me Into a Responsible Adult
My 10 Cents – Endorsements from a Cervical Cancer Survivor

Part I – Adulting (January 22, 2018)

This was it. The year of adulting. I’ve had extra insurance for the past three years and had never even bothered to go to the doctor and cash in. First, I had Aflac and then this year I switched to Colonial Life. That being said, I was grateful that up to this point, I didn’t need to go to the doctor. But the truth was becoming very obvious. I was getting older.

While we drank our delicious alcoholic beverages, my friend Pal and I would talk about the weird things our bodies were doing. He was even nice enough to get me some fish oil for my left hip, when I started getting a weird pain that was waking me up in the middle of the night. It was most likely due to my new weird love of running.

“We are getting old man!” Pal would say to me. “I’m taking my One A Day’s now. You want some? I can get you some for a decent price at my job.”

“Yea. I’m that old lady now that says things like, ‘My hip hurts!’ You better get some for me and Kevin. I’ll send you the money.”

This was the year I was going to start being a good adult. I would take my fish oil and One A Day’s after a nice two to three mile run in the morning. It was also the year I was supposed to get my pap exam. So, I might as well go to my primary doctor as well and see what they had to say about me.

Oh the pap smear…Every woman dreads this appointment. Nothing like having a stranger look at your naughty bits and take a piece away with them to treasure forever. And the whole time this is happening, you have to lie on your back anxiously thinking, “Please don’t judge me lady doctor. I swear I am a clean and decent person.” You shower and shave beforehand, trying to make a good impression, all the while dreading the moment you will feel “A little pinch”. They always say that. It is always just a little pinch. I hate that little pinch so freaking much!!! My insides always feel sad for a full 24 hours afterwards.

When I was younger and first started going to the gynecologist, a woman needed to be seen once a year. They called it your annual. Then in my mid 20’s, they started to demand you show up every other year instead, as long as your results came back normal. But the last time I went, they had changed it to every three years! Can you believe it? I was so relieved. I didn’t have to think about being an adult for three whole beautiful years! I was about to start a new job and get new health insurance, so that year I went for my annual and decided to get a new form of birth control called an IUD (Intrauterine device). The last three years since then had been so great. Not one period. I think I had to use a total of two tampons the entire time. Life was great!

I decided to change to an IUD because I was having weird spotting between periods. At the time, I blamed it on my generic birth control. I was fine when I wasn’t on a stupid generic, but the pharmacy had eventually moved me to one and my body hated it. I had let the doctor know that I was a very heavy bleeder without birth control, but I had never been a spotter. So, after much discussion and research, I opted for the IUD. My sister held my hand while I tried to make a good impression on the lady doctor and had the device placed. During my exam though, she had noticed that my cervix, “Did not like being touched.” So, she decided to run all of the necessary tests to make sure I didn’t have any STD’s. My boyfriend Kevin and I were so lucky to have found each other at a very young age. I had always made sure to get tested regularly too. So, I knew I had nothing to worry about because I had no doubt that we were both faithful. Sure enough, all of the tests came back clean! Hooray for my vagina!!!

Oh, but three years really flies by when you’re having fun and not your period.

So, because it was the year of adulating, I made my appointments. The one thing I was always, always good about was going to the lady doctor when my time was up. Since my last pap was October 2014, I set something up for October 2^nd, 2017. I wanted to get it out of the way as soon as possible, so that I could stop dreading the “little pinch” and get on with my life.

Little did I know, this pinch was not going to be like the others. This pinch was going to be a real bitch.

Part II – The Show (January 26, 2018)

I was at work the next week when I got the email that the test results from my pap smear were back. I checked online and read the note stating that I needed a “colposcopy”, which I immediately Googled because I had never heard of it before.

“Colposcopy is a medical diagnostic procedure to examine an illuminated, magnified view of the cervix and the tissues of the vagina and vulva. Many premalignant lesions and malignant lesions in these areas have discernible characteristics which can be detected through the examination. It is done using a colposcope, which provides an enlarged view of the areas, allowing the colposcopist to visually distinguish normal from abnormal appearing tissue and take directed biopsies for further pathological examination. The main goal of colposcopy is to prevent cervical cancer by detecting precancerous lesions early and treating them.” [Colposcopy. (n.d.). In Wikipedia. Retrieved January 26, 2018, from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colposcopy]

Oh crap! They have to go back in and take more pieces of me. This sounds horrible. After searching the Internet and hearing some women explain that this feels very similar to a regular pap, just a little more invasive, I decided it was not something to fear. It would just be another womanly hurdle to get over. I called and scheduled my appointment for October 20^th. I had jumped at scheduling it so fast, that about an hour after I did, the hospital called to schedule the appointment for me. I didn’t realize they would contact me. I’m not going to lie, the fact that they called me so soon after the test result made me nervous. All I ever hear about is how slow insurances can be…and here they are getting me in as soon as possible.

After dealing with the first initial panic, searching online for more info, and then scheduling the appointment, my next step was to call my sister. She calmed me down instantly and let me know that she also had irregular pap smears before and everything turned out fine. I could hear her typing in the Google search while she was talking to me, and then listened as she read the exact same description I had found.

“Do you want me to go with you?” she asked, always willing to hold my hand.

“No.” Although I wanted to say yes, I also didn’t want to be a wimp. But, in my head, I was quietly thinking…“This was the year of adulting for goodness sake. Stop bugging your older sister to hold your hand.”

“I think it shouldn’t be too big of a deal,” I replied. “It sounds like another pap smear. I just wish I didn’t have to do it. I already feel like too many people have seen me down there this year. Being a girl sucks!”

I really, truly did hate the whole process. I can’t explain this enough. I’m fortunate though to have an amazing dad who not only understands my weird humor, but who is also a doctor and can explain things to me when I start to get…overly comedic and critical of a situation. That really is the best way I can describe myself when I am being unreasonable.

“Daddy, I went to see my primary doctor on Tuesday and they tried to give me a pap smear! Before the doctor came in, they asked me to undress and showed me that stupid paper towel sheet they call a cover. I looked at the girl like she was crazy and told her, ‘Um, you don’t need me to get naked naked right? You guys shouldn’t need to go down there for any reason.’ And she said, ‘Oh we see that you are due for your pap smear.’ But this freaks me out because I had just had my pap smear the day before! Why didn’t they know that?!”

“Well, did you explain that you had your pap smear already?” my dad calmly replied. “Sometimes it takes a while for all of your information to update, so they might not have been able to see it yet.”

“Oh! Well, yes…I told her that I already had my appointment with an OBGYN. Because why in the world would my primary doctor go down there? They are not vagina doctors. They are supposed to check my lungs and heart and just make sure that I’m not dead, right? I think both her and the doctor were very confused why I would go to another doctor to check my cash and prizes. Why does everyone want to see my hooha?! Not only that, they are charging me for these stupid appointments. How is it that I am giving them a show, but I am the one that is paying them to see it?! It seemed like they were very sad to not get the show though. They had to deal with just taking my blood and checking me for diabetes and stuff.”

My dad just laughed and explained that some primary doctors, especially the new ones, perform pap smears. This was a fact that I then shared with all of my girlfriends during the next week. I had to warn everyone that lots of doctors were now out there ready and willing to look at your vagina and declare you healthy. Even primary doctors!

So, my second show was scheduled for October 20^th. They told me to take some ibuprofen before my appointment to help with any pain I might feel. I was super nervous going in and had a bunch of thoughts going through my head, so I didn’t pay too much attention to the nice nurse and her student nurse when they introduced themselves. I also didn’t truly understand the nice nurse’s questions when she asked if the student nurse could sit in on my appointment. I just responded “yes” because I wanted to be amiable. Suddenly, I realized what I had verbally signed both myself and this poor student nurse up for…

“Oh! I’m so sorry you are going to have to see all of that!” I said with wide eyes to the student nurse, while I gestured toward my area.  Both nurses laughed politely and let me know that for them it was very educational because it was their job.

Once I was in the room with the nurse practitioner, who would be performing the colposcopy, I finally got a clear explanation of what was happening. I had cells that tested positive for HPV. I let the nurse know that I had the same loyal partner for over 14 years. I had been tested a few times for HPV, including during my last pap three years before, and had never had a positive test come back for it.

“Were you sick when you came in for this most recent pap?” she asked.

“As a matter of fact, I was.” I replied. “I had a really bad cold that turned into bronchitis. The cold part was over by then, but I was still suffering from the cough when I had the exam.” I remember it vividly because that stupid cold tried to ruin my birthday. My Denver peeps had a surprise party planned and a full day of other surprises that was almost ruined because I didn’t feel 100%. Luckily, I was still able to happily celebrate thanks to the glory of the hot totty.

“Well, HPV can lie dormant for years. It can be undetected until your body’s immune system is low,” she explained. A fact that makes me, to this day, not truly believe in HPV. Either that or I could be thankful for that stupid cold…the one that brought out all of my flaws. Nevertheless, I was now going through this fun investigation, because it had showed its ugly head.

I would have to lie down while they looked very closely at my cervix and took biopsies of any tissue that looked irregular. They told me that they would be able to see the irregular tissue after putting a vinegar solution on my cervix. The nurses and I awkwardly joked that vinegar had way too many uses.

I had hoped going in that everything would be fine. They would see no abnormalities and I could go on with my life just being one of those girls that gets abnormal pap results for no reason. I voiced this to the nurses, who confirmed that this was very possible.

As I lay on my back praying and chanting this hope in my head over and over, it was all shattered when I heard the nurse practitioner say to the student nurse, “Now you see how there are two spots that are not the same pinkish color as the rest?”

I was crushed. I tried not to scream out and distract from the learning lesson that was happening next to my vagina.

With three nurses as eager observers, it was time to take the biopsies. In order to do this, I had to fake cough each time to give the nurse practitioner leverage against my cervix. They are slippery little fellas you know.

The whole process lasted only about 15 minutes. It was not painful. Just uncomfortable. Since we were done, the nurse practitioner helped me sit up to make sure that I didn’t faint. She then explained what was next. It turns out that there are three different stages of irregular cells: high risk, medium risk, and low risk. High risk would mean that I would need to come back and get something called a LEEP procedure. Medium risk and low risk meant that I would have to return for a pap in one year. The entire time she was talking, I could feel a weird tingly sensation in my head and neck. “This is weird…” I thought. “I wonder if this is what almost fainting feels like?”

The nurses commended me for being brave and left the room for me to change. The tingly sensation had disappeared with the nurse practitioner. As I slowly began to get dressed, the reality of the situation set in. All I wanted in that moment was to hug my sister. I yelled at myself for not asking her to come with me.

Fortunately, I found that the more layers I put on, the less I felt like crying. It was now time to focus on more important things, like how the heck I was going to fit into a Pink Ranger outfit for a costume concert the weekend before Halloween.

Halloween is my absolute favorite holiday. It is the one day of the year that you can be anyone you want to be. I had decided that I was going to be one of my childhood heroes for the concert. I was going to be strong and look good in spandex! I was also planning to go trick-or-treating with my niece on the actual night of Halloween, where I would wear a different costume. She wanted me to be one of my favorite villains, so I was going to be Maleficent! It was like a dream come true. Nobody messes with Maleficent….nobody.

Most importantly though, I was going to be happy.

Part III – A LEEP of Faith (February 3, 2018)

Two working days later, I received a call from the nurse practitioner. It was barely October 24th…they don’t call you that fast if the news is good. Heck, I was even still bleeding from the last procedure.

She let me know that I had high risk precancerous cells, and it turned out that I now needed a “LEEP procedure” as soon as possible. So, a scheduler would be calling me sooner, rather than later.

The scheduler called me after about fifteen minutes. When I saw the random number on my phone, my heart skipped a beat…this is bad. This is not what I wanted. I suddenly became too busy to be doing such things. I didn’t have time for my vagina to be having a temper tantrum. So, naturally, I sort of had one on the phone as well.

“This is sort of a busy time for me with all the holidays coming up and work. Let’s just schedule this for after the New Year,” I happily said on the phone. I was hoping if I sounded super optimistic it would also make the scheduler happy and she would agree with me.

“This is serious for your health and you really need to come in as soon as possible,” she explained. Then she asked if I was available three weeks later, which was the next opening for the special room that apparently was booked until then.

“As soon as possible my butt”, I thought in my head as I rolled my eyes. I have always been terrible about rolling my eyes. In fact, I have always been terrible about having my face say exactly what is going on in my head. Because of this, my friends and co-workers always know what I’m thinking, even if I’m not saying the words out loud. For that reason, I usually just go ahead and say what I’m thinking anyway, making me one of those painfully honest and blunt people. This means that I’m an excellent friend to have around when you want the truth….but, not so much when you want someone to lie or just agree with you because they are your friend. Naturally, due to my honest and blunt self, I had already revealed to a few people that my vagina was pissing me off lately.

“Unfortunately, I am leaving town November 15^th,” I explained to her. This was true. It turned out that my little brother Joey, his wife, and my beautiful nieces were moving back to New Mexico to be closer to my Mom, older brother, and a job opportunity they couldn’t pass up. As sad as I was that they were leaving me (especially since I was just getting started teaching my nieces all about the best villains, Disney movies, and the importance of Halloween), I also wanted to be as supportive as possible. So, I had volunteered to drive down to Las Cruces, which was a 10-12 hour drive depending on the stops. I would be crammed in a car with two car seats and my sisters, Andee and Danielle. (Danielle…she was the beautiful treasure that had married my crazy brother and bestowed upon us two of my favorite little humans!) Andee and I were determined to make sure that they had the perfect place to live, for the perfect price, so that we could feel better about them leaving us.

Don’t worry, I didn’t tell the scheduler all of this. I just remember that at the time, I had better things to do that day and during the upcoming weekend. So, I was super annoyed that they were trying to take all of that away from me.

“Hmmm…,” she said into the phone. I could tell she was annoyed because I wasn’t jumping at the opportunity to have more people look up my vagina. “Oh jeeze,” I thought to myself. “She must have heard how great the last show was!”

“How about November 20th?” she then asked.

“Ummmm…,”  I replied hesitantly.

I really wanted to say no. That was Thanksgiving week. It was already a three-day work week and I had a crap ton of stuff to do, especially because I would be missing work the week before to drive down to New Mexico.

“Well, that is a pretty busy week with work and Thanksgiving.” I was trying really hard to only gently push back. “Do you think I will be able to schedule it early and then get back to work in time?” I asked hopefully.

“Trust me,” she said sympathetically. “You are not going to want to go back to work after this procedure. You may experience some cramping.”

“Well crap!” I exclaimed.

Oops! The face and thoughts were starting to match the outside voice now. I needed to calm down. “This is not her fault,” I said to myself. “It is just crappy timing in an already crappy situation.”

“Sorry! I realize this is important.” I really was apologetic now. “I’m just trying to figure it all out. November 20th will be fine. Thank you for helping me.”

As I hung up the phone, one of my best friends (who also happens to be a co-worker) was passing by my office. The look she gave me teased that she was going to murder someone soon – just for fun. You know, a little something to brighten her stressful day.

She always knew how to make me laugh.

“Katie!!! Get in here!” I demanded of her. She is also one of those people that is painfully honest and already knew that I was mad at my vagina for acting out.

I couldn’t hide my worry as I updated her about the conversation I just had with the hospital. Neither could she…

I was able to convince her to join me for drinks that day after work, so that we could meet up with some of my people downtown before they headed to a concert that night. After hanging out with Andee and her husband Heath (who is like a brother to me), my handsome boyfriend Kevin, and our good friend Chiko (who had actually scored the tickets for the concert), Katie and I went to drink some wine and convince ourselves that it was all going to be okay.

To be honest though, I really didn’t know what to expect. So far, nothing had gone as planned. For instance, after the colposcopy, I was told that I would bleed for about 3-5 days. However, as it turned out, I was still bleeding after 12 days.

Already worried that something was wrong with me, aside from now needing a LEEP procedure, I decided to call the doctor. I was then told that because I had high risk cells, my bleeding would actually be much longer. (No kidding.) It finally stopped after about two weeks.

Then the doctor followed up with me again to give me more information about the LEEP procedure.

Here is what I learned:

• LEEP stands for “Loop Electrosurgical Excision Procedure”. This procedure also goes by several other names, including LLETZ (Large Loop Excision of the Transformation Zone), LLEC (Large Loop Excision of the Cervix), and Loop Cone Biopsy.
• This procedure is designed to treat and/or diagnose the cervix (i.e., the portion of the uterus visible in the vagina) after the occurrence of abnormal Pap Smear tests.
• A fine wire loop, which is attached to a high-frequency electrical generator, allows very precise removal of abnormal tissue from the cervix. Because the procedure is so exact, and the loop is very thin, there is very little damage to the tissue surrounding the area that needs to be removed.

(A small word of caution…this next part is somewhat graphic.)

• The procedure should be done when you are not having your menstrual period, allowing for a better view of the cervix. This also helps you determine if any post procedure bleeding you may have is abnormal.
• You may be given something for pain relief prior to the procedure.
• You will be placed in the room, with your legs in stirrups or supports. A speculum will be inserted and a local anesthetic will be injected (similar to the anesthetic you would get at a dental office).
• At the time of the injection, you may experience a cramp (similar to mild menstrual cramping) until the anesthesia has been injected. You may also experience an increase in your heart rate and possibly some shakiness of your legs. These symptoms are normal and related to the medication.
• A solution is applied to the cervix to show the abnormal area that needs to be removed.
• You will hear a sound like a vacuum cleaner from what is known as the smoke evacuator.
• You will also hear a humming sound when the electrosurgical generator is being used. It is VERY important that you do not move when the electrosurgical generator is making a sound. You may feel a dull cramp, however if you feel anything sharp, you should let the person performing the procedure know immediately.
• The removal of the tissue is over within a few seconds. The cautery portion of the procedure (i.e., burning of vessels after the procedure to prevent bleeding) takes a few minutes. A paste to assist in the prevention of bleeding is often applied and then the speculum is removed. The paste will cause a dark brown-black discharge for several days after the procedure. 

“This is going to suck!” I thought to myself, after reading everything the doctor had sent over.

Okay, I told everyone in Denver it was going to suck too.

Katie was smart. She reached out to our best friend Lindsay, who lives in Nashville. A couple of days later, I received a card in the mail. On the front was a small gray cloud with a sad face that said “Crap”. The inside of the card then said, “Chuck” (her nickname for me), “Sorry your vagina sucks right now. Love you, Lindsay.” I laughed until my abs hurt. She knew me so well. I happily showed all my people. Kevin blushed every time. How he puts up with my crazy antics I have no idea, but I am so thankful he has always loved me for me.

Our trip home with Danielle and our nieces turned out to be great timing, as it was a perfect distraction from all the worry. It was so nice to hug my mom, laugh with my brother Ray and his wife Natalie, and see my two best friends from childhood, Ashley and Kalli. I even got to see my Mom’s boyfriend Curtis, who currently lives in Washington DC. He has always been there for our family.

My best friends happily announced that they were both pregnant – Ashley with her second child and Kalli with her first! We celebrated by scientifically peeing in separate cups and putting baking soda in each one to see if the old wives tale was true (i.e., if it bubbles you’re having a boy). I was obviously the control. The combination in both my cup and Kalli’s didn’t bubble, but our Ashley’s sure did! Only time would tell if we could predict the future!

All too soon, we were back in Denver.

“They are going to Jack the Ripper me tomorrow,” I told Pal, as we celebrated my return. He and Joey never got weirded out by my graphic visuals. In fact, they were my fellow horror-movie-loving peeps!

“I’m going to ask them if I can see what they take out,” I continued frankly. “If I’m going to go through the pain, I might as well get to see something crazy.” Pal was not at all surprised by my idea.

“You ARE crazy dude! I had a feeling you would want to do that,” he replied enthusiastically.

It was finally time for the big day. I was not going to make the same mistake as last time. I made sure to ask Andee if she could come with me and hold my hand. She told me even if I said “no”, she was planning to come with me anyway. She offered to pick me up and take me home afterwards, even though the doctor never mentioned anything about not being able to drive myself.

Once we got to the hospital, they took me into the “special room” that took so long to book. It had a large machine in it next to the staging area, or bed, that all women are all too familiar with. Andee had to step over a bunch of wires and squeeze between the machine and other equipment so that she could get to my right side and comfortably hold my hand.

Before the procedure took place, the doctor made sure I knew what was about to happen and why. She also let me know that the mandatory pregnancy test they made me take came out negative.

I had to take a pregnancy test before the colposcopy as well, and strangely, these tests made me nervous. It reminded me of taking a drug test when you are starting a new job. You know you didn’t take any drugs, but you are still terrified you might fail for some reason. What if you ate a poppy seed bagel and forgot?!

“Hooray!” Andee and I both cheered, after hearing the pregnancy test results. “We just came from visiting people back home, and let’s just say there is something in the water over there!” I nervously laughed. “So, needless to say, I’m happy at least one thing is going my way today.” My sister and I both have no desire to be mothers. It honestly throws people off at times. The doctor laughed along with us for a moment, but then had to get serious.

“Do you know why you are here?” she asked me.

“Yes. Because of my abnormal cells,” I replied.

She then let me know there were three outcomes from the procedure I was about to go through.

1) They get all of the abnormal, pre-cancerous cells and I will see them again in a year for a normal pap smear.

2) They do not get all of the cells and I need to come in again. If that happens though, they would put me to sleep for the procedure.

For the last possibility, she opened with a happy warning. “Now, the chance of this happening is only 1%,” she started. “There is a 1% chance that we do find cancer and you will need a hysterectomy. It’s such a slim chance though, that I wouldn’t worry about it – but I don’t want that to blindside you if it is the outcome.”

Next, I let the doctor know that I had bled quite a bit after the last procedure and was worried that I might have a harder time with this one. She decided to prescribe me some hydrocodone, just in case for some reason I had severe pain. She also was not at all weirded out by my request to see some of what they take out during the procedure. In fact, she happily let the assisting nurse know that was going to happen when she entered the room.

After lying down and getting as comfortable as possible, considering the circumstances, the doctor began. She started by taking a few minutes to hide the strings of my IUD. This was to avoid cutting them or accidently pulling it out.

Then, she began to “numb” me. This part was not just painful, it was excruciating! I started to squeeze Andee’s hand, never regretting asking her to be there. Every time they poked me with the needle, there was an extreme amount of pressure mixed with shooting pain. Even worse, they were injecting me with adrenaline. So my legs, stomach, and hands started to shake uncontrollably. I was not supposed to move, yet I was in horrible pain and couldn’t stop shaking!

The doctor kept apologizing after I would scream, “Ow, ow, ow, ow!!!!” I hated showing how much it hurt, so I kept apologizing back to them. Then they would tell me back that I didn’t need to apologize. It was a continuous circle.

“Oh my gosh! I’m a wuss…I’m a wuss…I’m a wuss,” I was chanting as I whispered to myself.

“Who is Melissa?” Andee then quietly asked me.

“Huh?” I replied. It was all I was able to get out.

“Who is Melissa?” she asked again.

I finally figured out why she was confused. I turned to her with what I knew was a pained look on my face.

“I said – I’m a wuss,” I finally explained. “How did you hear Melissa?”

Andee then giggled and explained that she thought I was repeating the name “Melissa”. If she was trying to distract me for a moment, it worked. Finally, I was numb…if you could call it that. Unfortunately, I could still feel the pressure though.

The shaking also hadn’t stopped and tears were now rolling down my cheeks from the shock of the pain. At one point, the nurse held up a small container that held a sliver of my insides. I only got to see it for a few seconds, but it was really cool.

The machine made a loud humming noise. So, even though the doctor was trying to distract me by talking about other things, I couldn’t stop listening to the hum. Andee was still holding my hand and gently stroking it. She could see the pain in my face. As hard as I tried to act like I was fine, I couldn’t control the emotions going through me.

And then, about twenty minutes in, I started to feel more.

“I can feel that!” I shouted. There was no way I wanted it to get any worse than it already was at that point. The doctor seemed shocked. She explained that I shouldn’t feel anything. She started to test where I could feel and where I couldn’t.

“Right there!” I said with a shaky voice. “I can feel that.”

“Wow. Okay, don’t worry. We are going to numb you more so that you won’t feel anything. Your body must metabolize really fast. It’s rare, but it does happen sometimes. I can definitely tell that you can feel a certain spot though,” she said empathetically.

“I don’t want the numbing,” I whispered to Andee. “That’s the worst part!”

Of course the alternative was not any better. Andee tried to sooth me as they prepared me for round two. Some spots were numb, and others shot some pain into me, but it was nothing like before. I was glad that I didn’t hold back and let them know I could feel it when I did.

I never wanted to go through this again. Never. They needed to get everything out now or I will never come back here. If Andee hadn’t been next to me, I would have screamed for them to stop. I would have gotten up, put my clothes on, and left.

“Please,” I pleaded. “Get it all. Don’t hold back and get it all.” The doctor assured me that was her intention and she was trying her hardest not to fail me. I laid there and silently let the tears roll down my face. At times, I would stop breathing in an attempt not to scream. The nurse that was assisting would ask if I was okay every now and then, but I could only nod slightly. I had to control the screaming or I would scare the doctor and she would stop. At least, that was my assumption.

The total time for the procedure was about 45 minutes. The doctor finally let me know that it was over and that she was taking everything out, so I would be able to put my legs together again soon. I could tell that she was trying to be as quick as possible. The second my legs were together though, and I was able to cover myself up, she realized she hadn’t moved the strings from my IUD back.

“I assume you don’t want me to go back in there and adjust them though, do you?” she asked with an apologetic face.

“No. Please don’t.” My voice was shaking. They raised me up in a slight sitting position, but they didn’t want me to move or change yet. The possibility of fainting ran through my mind.

“I’m really sorry,” the doctor said kindly. “You did incredible. This is one of the worst cases I’ve seen. We took a lot though. I hope I got it all.” She looked at the nurse who nodded in confirmation. It was weird. I couldn’t help but wonder if the doctor was about to cry. It could have been in my head, but even later, I would still remember it that way. She exited quickly.

The nurse offered me some juice. They had apple.

“Apple juice would be amazing,” I replied with a smile. “Thank you.”

The second she left the room Andee and I embraced. I hugged her tighter than I ever had before, so thankful to have her there. I cried…hard from the pain, the humility, and the God awful reality of the situation. The nurse returned with the apple juice and let me know that I could take my time. She put a pad out for me before she exited again. I spent about ten minutes drinking the juice and talking to Andee, before I could get up and put my clothes back on.

After we left, the cramping started to hurt more and more. Andee and I went to the pharmacy to fill the prescription that I obviously would need. The clerk that was assisting us gave me a funny look and then gently said, “I can see that you are in a great deal of pain. Please go and sit down and she can finish the transaction.” She nodded at Andee who quickly shook her head in agreement.

After we had the prescription filled, Andee ran to get her car and then picked me up at the front of the hospital. How in the hell no one had warned me that I would need a ride was beyond me! She decided to take me to her house and watch over me, because she could see the pain was getting worse. I needed to eat though, before I could take any Ibuprofen. As we drove, I started getting nauseous from the pain. Still, I was hoping to avoid having to take the hydrocodone.

Once I was safely in my sister’s house, settled in my favorite spot on the couch under some blankets, I finally started to feel some relief. Not from the pain…but relief in that what had happened was now behind me. Andee gave me some chicken soup, which really is good for the soul. That afternoon, I eventually had to take the hydrocodone, but only after talking to my dad about the proper dosage.

By the time Kevin arrived to hold my hand, I was able to joke about it.

“They gutted me like a fish Kev,” I said comically. I smiled at him as he pet my head and quietly chuckled.

Laughter really is the best medicine.

Soon…it would be Thanksgiving.

Part IV – No More Secrets (February 10, 2018)

Kevin makes a mean Thanksgiving turkey. Although some of us need to go to work the next day, everyone always stays the night because we plan to watch movies and eat all of the left overs. So, every year we plan on having enough food for a two-day feast.

I was still hurting from my LEEP procedure, but it was nothing that I couldn’t handle. I was not allowed to lift anything too heavy or workout, but in a house full of family, that was no problem. Being unable to throw my nieces around though was the hardest thing to resist. They know how much their auntie loves to play too!

“Did you ask them if you could see it?” Pal asked while he started to prepare his part of the dinner. He always fries a small turkey for us, in addition to the baked one that Kevin cooks. This year, he was also going to add a fried ham to the mix. Erin, his beautiful girlfriend and our very close friend, had even made a platter full of desserts. It was so full in fact, that I felt bad not just for the starving kids in China, but the fed kids in America too! They were definitely missing out.

“I did!” I happily replied. “I only got to see one piece before the pain got too bad. Hold on. I can show you.” I proceeded to cut a piece of the turkey neck in a way that would resemble what I saw. As I held it up to the light, I then told him, “Now picture it in a small vial full of clear fluid. That is pretty close.” I smiled wickedly as I watched both Pal and Kevin twitch.

One by one, all of the family started to arrive and we began to get lost in the happiness of the day. That night, my sister and I were the last ones still awake in the kitchen. We decided it was time for a selfie. One last snapshot of Thanksgiving bliss…

My phone rang at 8:00am the next morning.

“Hello?” I answered in a groggy voice. I was trying not to sound like I had just woken up.

“Oh, hello…I’m so sorry. Is this Maria Ortiz? I keep forgetting that some people are off today,” the female voice on the other end responded.

“Oh, no worries,” I replied. “This is Maria.”

Kevin always has to work the day after Thanksgiving and I instantly feel horrible when I know that other people have this problem as well. This was one of the first times I actually didn’t have to say goodbye to him before the sun came up. I heard him stir in bed next to me.

“Maria, I’m calling to let you know that we got the results from your LEEP procedure. I’m really sorry, but we did find cancer and you need to have a hysterectomy.”

“Oh, wow. Okay. Thanks for letting me know.” I honestly couldn’t think of anything else to say in the moment. I had told my group that this was a possibility. It had been a 1% chance, but here it was, not “blind-siding” me…just as the doctor had warned.

“I’m really so sorry,” the voice said again. “You will be hearing from a scheduler to meet with a surgeon. They won’t be able to do the surgery for at least 6 weeks though, since you need to heal from the LEEP first.”

“Okay. Thanks for letting me know.” I still had no idea what else to say, and I couldn’t help wondering why my voice sounded so chipper. Maybe I was still trying to sound like I was awake?

“I’m so sorry. It is so good you came in for your pap and caught it when you did.”

“No, no need to be sorry. Thanks for letting me know.” She didn’t give me cancer. I couldn’t understand why she kept saying she was sorry.

She had said that they were going to do a hysterectomy. I could handle this. It was scary and meant surgery, but it was not the end of the world.

As I hung up the phone, Kevin rolled over and asked, “Was that the doctor? Did they get it all?”

“No. I have cancer.” I replied quickly, followed by a small nervous laugh.

I didn’t want to scare him. I wanted to make sure that he knew I was okay…that I wasn’t scared. This was just going to be one more procedure I had to get done.

I called my dad next. Since I had been asking him for advice about these procedures, I felt like he needed to know the outcome as soon as possible.

“But, you’re so young.” I could hear the disbelief in his voice. He let me joke about it and let me be myself, but I could hear the worry. He promised to come for the surgery as soon as I knew the dates.

Now it was time to tell everyone in the house. Erin had already left for work that morning, as she was one of the sad few people who had gotten screwed for Thanksgiving – along with Kevin. But, Pal was still there, because I could hear him heading up the stairs to give Andee and Heath a hard time in the guest bedroom. I walked into the room and told all three of them the news.

Pal’s face fell and I looked at Andee and saw her holding back tears. Again, I laughed it off. I could see that they were not at ease, but I couldn’t address the reality of the situation yet. I called my little brother Joey and told him and Danielle at the same time.

“Wait. Maria, are you being serious?” Joey asked. “Because you are saying it like it’s a joke.”

He was right. I did say it like it was a joke, and I couldn’t figure out why I kept doing it. Joey and Danielle came over with the girls as soon as they realized that I just sucked at delivering bad news.

The next people on the list to tell were my mom and my older brother. I had been dreading telling my mom since I needed the first biopsy.

My mom is one of the strongest people I know. She has fought for and been through so much in this life, that admiration does not even begin to describe how I look at her. I tell her everything. In fact, I usually tell her too much.

For example, back in February of last year, I took Kevin to Chicago for his birthday so that we could celebrate with our friend Ray. We call him Raybourne. The boys (Kevin, Pal, and their “brother from another mother” Ryan) named him that for reasons unknown. It helps though, since my older brother’s name is Ray and it can get hard to differentiate. Well, naturally, I started to run around the house with Raybourne’s daughter – because this is what my nieces have taught me to do. While running though, I slipped on the beautiful wooden stairs in their home and pulled the crap out of my back muscles. Now, because I hate to act like I’m hurt, I decided to ignore the immense pain and continued to act like an idiot…only to fall down the stairs in the same spot a second time. This required about 5 weeks of healing my poor muscles when we got back to Colorado, which also meant that Joey had to drive me to work every day.

Right about now, you might be wondering why I’m telling you this story that seems like it has nothing to do with me telling my mom everything…just wait.

As it turns out, since I was in so much pain when my back muscles would spasm, going to the bathroom had become slightly difficult. Then, the day came when I went to wipe after peeing…and suddenly began to have a spasm mid-wipe. The shooting pain caused me to clench my hand, which was already in a sensitive area. “Hmmm…,” I thought quietly. “I think I might have scratched myself a little bit.”

Let’s fast forward to one week later when my back was starting to feel better. Since I now had less pain in my back, I began to notice that I still felt something in the area where I thought I might have scratched myself. I decided to take a peak, now that I could bend over again. I grabbed a mirror and proceeded to look down there…

“OH MY GOD!!!! WHAT HAVE I DONE?!?!”

I had scratched myself so bad, that I was literally missing a chunk of vagina! Of course, I called my insurance and rushed to a weekend clinic to get it taken care of ASAP. They put me on some antibiotics and told me to use Vaseline.

“Mom! I’m a super old lady now! Not only do I smell like icy-hot, and carry around a pillow and a heating pad, but now I have to use Vaseline as well!” I could hear her hysterically laughing on the other end of the line, and I couldn’t help but laugh along with her. My mom has the most amazing laugh. So any chance to make her laugh, even at my expense, was well worth it.

“Oh mija!” She kept laughing until she started making funny noises. “That’s so horrible! It’s hilarious, but horrible!”

Later, when I told Andee the story, all she could say was, “I can’t believe you told mom!!!”

“Oh yeah! First off, I tell her everything.” I explained matter-of-factly. “Second, it’s freaking hilarious!”

So, yes, I tell my mom everything. For some reason though, I didn’t tell her I needed a colposcopy. I also didn’t tell her when I needed a LEEP procedure, and I definitely didn’t tell her that I was worried. I just wanted to tell her when it was all over, so that I could make her laugh about how everyone wanted to see my vagina.

I wanted to tell her when I knew that I was going to be okay.

“What if I don’t tell her until after the surgery?” I asked both of my brothers separately. I was hopeful they would concur that this was a fantastic idea and praise me for being so smart. They would then lift me into the air in a “Hip Hip Hooray” moment. Of course, that didn’t happen.

“Maria,” my older brother Ray said in a soft and gentle voice. “You have to tell Mom. I know it’s scary, but you have to let her be there for you. She will want to be there for you. I know you want to make it seem like a joke and not take it seriously, but you can’t. This is cancer. This is serious. I know you’re tough, but you have to let others be there to help you through this.”

I consented. I called my Mom last out of my immediate family. Not because I didn’t want to tell her, but because I didn’t want it to be real. Telling my mom made it real. As real as that chunk that was once missing from my vagina – which by the way completely healed. (The vagina really is an incredible body part. No wonder women can have children and then move on.)

I let my mom know that there is a reason for everything. There was a reason I never wanted to have children. I still didn’t. Even with the option being taken away from me, I still knew that was not my purpose. God had protected me from that pain and had also now given me the ability to be sympathetic to those who have been, or would be, in my situation without that buffer. I also told her that I wanted to share my story with other women.

Being a woman is hard, but there is a reason for everything. I just knew it.

The next day, I planned to tell the besties. My childhood best friends, Ashley and Kalli, knew I was worried. I had let them know a couple of weeks ago what was going on after they had announced their pregnancies. It seemed so fitting that they were having babies and I was just having a crisis. I was happy I was able to collaborate in stories of the vagina while we were together though.

“Well crap. Someone had to get cancer. Why did you do that Maria?” Kalli didn’t quite know what to say to me.

“Eh…well, with you and Ash procreating all over the place, I figured I could get the cancer crap out of the way for us,” I joked. “I gotta go now. Pal and I need some beer for breakfast.”

Pal stayed with me for most of the day, while I continued to process everything. Kalli ended up sending me a text after we hung up saying, “here come the water works”.

Later that day, Katie handled it in a way I never knew I would have wanted. She went to a porn cake shop in town and had them make me a special cake that said, “Sorry your (uterus) is being a real cunt”. While I drank whisky, we called Lindsay and that night we all laughed together in our misery.

The next day, I took the cake for rounds to be eaten by Joey’s family, Andee, and Heath. I wanted everyone to share in what I lovingly called the “Uterus Cake”.

“Maria Bugs I just LOVE this cake!” my little niece gleefully told me. (She calls me “Maria Bugs”, because “Bugsy” is my family nickname.) She made me giggle as she asked for more chocolate. When I first arrived, the baby had even tried to climb on top of a toy in order to get higher and be able to reach the cake as it sat on the kitchen counter. It made me happy to see such joy coming out of something as simple as a cake!

The following week, I would reach out to other people here and there. Every phone call or text was hard to get through, as they made the reality of my situation that much more undeniable.

I didn’t hear from the scheduler for a week after the initial call. But, luckily, I had other things to focus on. I was in a small play, which I was excited about. And, while Joey and Danielle prepared for their move back to New Mexico, our gang was also ramping up for Erin’s big 30th birthday weekend…

Part V – The Countdown (February 17, 2018)

I got the call to meet with the surgeon right as we parked outside the cabin for Erin’s birthday celebration. Pal had planned a three-day relaxing weekend for her and it was about to begin.

“Hi Maria. It looks like we may have an opening on Monday at 8:00am. Will that work for you?”

8:00am!!! If anyone knows me, then they know that I don’t really function before 10:00am. I never have. Even in high school, I somehow worked out my class schedule so that by my junior year, I didn’t have to be at school until 10:00am. I even lucked out that my current job doesn’t care what time I stroll into work, as long as I get in my eight hours a day.

“Sure,” I reluctantly said. I needed to make it work for me and for my family, who hadn’t stopped asking all week if they had called.

“Oh wait, actually, I think that might be taken already. One moment please.” She put me on hold.

“Dang. They might want me to go in at 8:00am guys!” I exclaimed to Pal, Erin and Kevin. They all laughed at the probability of me waking up in time to drive to an 8:00am appointment, as they patiently waited for me in the car. We hadn’t even been able to jump out yet and explore our new digs for the weekend.

“Hi Maria. Sorry for the wait. We can do 4:00pm on Tuesday, December 5^th. Will that time work for you?”

“Oh yes! That works perfectly. Thank you!” I hung up the phone and felt instant relief. First, because the next step was now set. Second, because it was time for a fun weekend.

The hard part about talking to people during this time, was that I had no answers. I tried to Google the steps leading up to the surgery and couldn’t find anything. So, life was just sort of up in the air. Everything online simply said that once you get diagnosed with cervical cancer, you will have a hysterectomy which requires a 6-week healing time. I had no idea what kind of hysterectomy though. I had no idea if I would get to keep my ovaries. I had no idea when this was all happening.

I knew nothing.

Thankfully, my play rehearsals were able to take my mind off the enormity of it all. Every now and then, I get asked to perform with a company here in Denver. They produce a night of short 10-minute plays. We perform on book, which means we have our scripts with us on stage, so it isn’t a formal performance – but it is a way for the writers of the scripts to see their work on its feet. And, it is a way for me and other actors to “get our drama out” without having to commit a large amount of time.

It’s a thing, “getting the drama out”. If I don’t get to be on stage for an exceedingly large amount of time, I become overly dramatic in everyday life. I start to try and soliloquy myself in the kitchen, contemplating what to eat for dinner, or I’ll get teary-eyed listening to the lyrics of a song in the car (and not even a necessarily deep song). Kevin usually starts to ask me if I have any auditions coming up when my drama level is getting a little out of control.

I had a couple of rehearsals that week leading up to the phone call. At first, I thought it might have been a mistake to sign up for this round of short plays. I was still in pain from the LEEP and had too much on my mind. But, for a blissful hour and half, I didn’t have to be recently diagnosed with cancer. I got to play pretend. I got to laugh with fellow actors. I got to be someone else. I was so happy that my little brother had convinced me to sign up. I knew it was going to be a lot with the procedure, work, Erin’s birthday, and Joey and Danielle moving, but it was proving to be the best therapy I could have asked for.

The day came to meet my surgeon with my sister by my side. I was excited to finally have so many questions answered.

“I just hope they don’t want to go down there,” I told Andee, as she drove me to the appointment. “I’m still bleeding from the last procedure and I am so sick and tired of everyone going down there!” I’m pretty sure I told her this on the car ride, as we parked, in the elevator, and then again while waiting for the doctor.

As soon as the doctor walked in, I trusted her instantly.

Soon into the conversation, she asked me if I wanted any children. I let her know that I didn’t.

“Okay.” She planted herself in her seat and looked me straight in the face. “How do you know you don’t want children?” She had that look in her eyes. The same look everyone gives me when I reveal that I don’t want children. The look that says, “You might change your mind”. Given her job, and the horrible news I’m sure she has to give her patients on a daily basis, I tried not to let that look irritate me the same way it had for so many years leading up to this moment.

“Because even as a child, I knew I didn’t want children.” It was an honest response. Most little kids play house and dream of their own future house, future husband, and future kids’ names. I just dreamed about being able to eat avocados whenever I wanted and maybe having too many dogs.

Ever since my brothers started to have babies my mom would occasional ask me,“Mija, do you think you might want to have children some day?” She always knew the answer to the question, so it also always made me roll my eyes when she asked. (Remember, I have a problem with rolling my eyes.)

“OH HECK NO!!!” I would exclaim, followed by my mom’s giggle. “You know I’m not a kid person mama.”

“Well, you weren’t even a fan of kids when you were a kid mija,” she would observe out loud. Conversation over – at least, until the next time my brothers decided to procreate. Not that I am complaining. They have given me the most beautiful, comical nieces a girl could ever ask for. So, they are worth the occasional guilt treatment I receive from their grandma.

“Okay,” my doctor replied to my simple response. But, she still had that doubtful look. “This will make what we need to discuss later a lot easier.”

She then let me know what I already knew deep down in my being…she was going to want to look “down there” and see it and feel it. GOSH DARN IT!!!!!

“Ummm…well, I’m still bleeding from the LEEP procedure. So, maybe now isn’t a good time?” I was trying my best to get out of it.

She smiled at my attempt, but then let me know that they have ways to examine women when they are bleeding. It is a common occurrence in her field. She left the room in order to let me change.

“Oh man! I knew it!” I exclaimed to Andee, while I began to undress. Andee carefully held up the paper sheet they supplied me, in order to give me some privacy.

Another doctor’s office, another paper sheet, another day in paradise.

The exam began like a normal pap smear, except that I suddenly realized I was starting to breathe weird. Andee could tell I was freaking out too and moved over so that she could hold my hand. The doctor was gentle, but it appeared I may have had a bit of PTSD from the LEEP. I was managing to get through it though, as she finished examining my cervix. It was then that she got up and said, “You’re doing really well. Now I’m sorry, but I need to stick my finger (holding up her pinky) up your anus in order to check something else.”

“Wait…what?!” I managed to get out. And then, she went for it – quickly and before I could say “no”. I must say, it was a very smart move on her part.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!” I was looking at Andee with my eyes wide and half laughing at this ridiculous situation. Andee had a look of both horror and pity on her face.

“Okay. All done,” she said as she pulled away.

There is a comedian that jokes about the time when he had his prostate checked. In his bit, he mentions how weird it feels when the doctor removes their fingers and how the sensation feels like pooping. The comedian thinks he pooped himself and says “I’m sorry!” in a really funny comedic voice. The second my doctor stopped, all I could hear was that comedian’s voice saying “I’m sorry!” and I couldn’t help myself – I started to laugh hysterically.

“Well, I earned my drink tonight doc!” I exclaimed as I began to sit up. Luckily, it appeared that my doctor had a sense of humor. I’m sure she had been through these awkward situations before, if not already a few times that day.

“You sure did,” she said with a small professional laugh. “Now, I’m going to give you a few minutes to get dressed and then I will meet you in the conference room where we can discuss my observations.”

Here were the answers I received in that room:

• I had stage 1b1 squamous cell cervical cancer. She could actually see the tumor when she performed her exam.
• The plan was for me to have surgery on January 8^th, and she was going to do everything in her power to avoid taking my ovaries. There were two possible outcomes of the surgery, depending on what she saw when she went in and performed a biopsy on my sentinel lymph node. This was the last check before the hysterectomy to make absolutely sure that the cancer had not spread past my cervix.
  • If the sentinel lymph node showed no signs of cancer, then she would perform a Laparoscopic Hysterectomy. That is where they make five small incisions, and one more just over the vagina, in order to remove the uterus (including the cervix) from the vagina. But, they would leave the ovaries.
  • If the sentinel lymph node showed signs of cancer, then she would only remove the fallopian tubes. She would then move my ovaries up higher into my abdominal cavity, so that we could protect them during chemo and radiation. This would be done to help keep me from going into early menopause.
• I was not going to need to stay in the hospital overnight, regardless of which surgery she would have to perform.
• She was going to prescribe me some blood thinner shots that I would need to take daily for two weeks after surgery to avoid blood clots.
• I was going to be out of work for six weeks, if all went as planned.
• I would still need pap smears after my hysterectomy, even though I wouldn’t have a cervix or a uterus anymore. My doctor simply said, “You will be seeing me often after your surgery.” (Darn it! The one positive I thought I could get from all of this was no more pap smears. At least, I would have no more periods though.)

Here is what I would need to get done before my surgery:

• I needed to get blood work at least a month before surgery. I could go to any lab on my own time and they would have the orders to complete my blood work.
• I needed to complete a physical to approve me for surgery.
• I needed to complete a PET scan. This would reveal how far the cancer had spread. If it had spread, then I will need chemo and radiation. If it showed that I had some enlarged lymph nodes, then they would perform a biopsy before surgery. Personally, I did not want this because I would be awake while they did the needle biopsy – and I was SO done with being awake while needles were inserted deep inside of me.

This was a lot to take in. It wasn’t as simple as “we are just going to cut it out of you”. If all went well though, I would be going under and wouldn’t know where I was on this cancer thing until I woke up in the recovery room. I would either be cancer free or find out that I actually did need chemo and radiation after all – a reality that I honestly could not grasp at this point. In the elevator on the way back to the car, I could tell that Andee was doing her best to hold in her worry, while I was radiating stress and trying to figure out how to control it. It took me two days to completely understand what was said in that room.

In a few days, the schedule leading up to the surgery was set.

• December 11th – I would go in and complete my blood work.
• December 19th – My physical was scheduled.
• December 20th – My PET scan was scheduled.
• January 8th – My surgery was scheduled for 11:30am.

Of course, not everything goes as planned. The day of my physical, they called to let me know that it needed to be rescheduled because the doctor that was supposed to see me was sick. So, they moved it to December 20th, the same day as my PET scan. I should also mention that all of this was going on while I performed in my play, we had a friend visit from out of town, we went to see a show with Kevin Smith, Star Wars Episode VIII came out, and about half of my family had their birthdays.

At least the bloodwork was painless. I just walked in, showed them my insurance card, and they took my blood. The physical was kind of dumb though. A doctor came into the room to ask me a bunch of regular questions to make sure that I wasn’t sick and could handle surgery. Then she listened to my heart and lungs and sent me on my way. It was a total of five minutes, and in my opinion, it was unnecessary considering that I had been seeing doctors who had asked me the same questions and had done the same things to me already.

Next was the PET scan. The PET scan was the first time I felt like I had cancer.

I was not allowed to eat the day of the scan. It was going to be about an hour of them injecting me with radioactive tracers in a special dye through a vein in my arm. Then, those tracers would be absorbed by my organs and other tissues. Anything that lit up on the PET scan would be cancer. Andee, the ever committed, came out to be with me for this one. This one I worried about. I did NOT want another biopsy. I wanted it to show that the cancer had not spread. I wanted it to be a sign that everything was going to go smoothly in surgery.

While Andee and I were in the waiting room, deciding what movie we should watch while they injected me with the radioactive tracers, she said to me, “Sister, I don’t think they are going to let me back there with you.”

“Well, they better let you back there with me,” I quickly replied. “I have cancer and I want you to be there with me.” I was so matter of fact about it, she laughed.

Sure enough though, when I walked up to the doctor and told her my sister was with me, she gave us the bad news. She could tell I was not happy about this.

“So, that was your sister?” she asked, as she escorted me to the room.

“Yes,” I said irritated. “She came to be with me since I have been scared about this appointment.” I’m sure my honest face gave away exactly how I felt about not having my sister with me.

“You won’t want her back here with you due to the radiation,” she explained. “It isn’t safe for her since she is healthy.” Then I understood. I was now entering a world that others could not follow.

On that day, my new world looked like it had been decorated in the 1970’s. It included a recliner chair in a small room with a TV on the wall that also held some bad art belonging in a sad hotel. I could tell they were trying to make it feel like anywhere but a hospital. This concerned me. Why are they going through so much effort? What am I about to endure?

The doctor brought me a warm blanket for my movie. It felt like it had just been taken out of the dryer and the trick worked. I felt more comfortable and since I had my phone, began to brag to Andee. The doctor then wheeled in a large machine that had a couple of tubes sticking out of it. She poked me quickly with the needle that would deliver the tracers and then turned the machine on. It made a loud humming noise. Shortly after that, she removed the needle and took the machine away.

“That’s it?” I asked. I had this image of being hooked up to an IV for the full hour. I then got emotional at the idea of having to do chemo and how chemo patients must feel being hooked up for so long to a needle.

“Yes. We are going to wait now for the tracers to go through your system. It will take about an hour and then we will have you empty your bladder and scan you.” She then left me to watch my movie.

It was a chick flick that Andee and I had watched several times together. I realized how sappy it was, now that I didn’t have her there to say “awww” and get teary-eyed at the appropriate intervals. In fact, the movie sucked without her. I only watched sappy movies so that I could watch Andee and laugh at how she reacted to them. So, when the doctor came back to take me away, I was not sad to miss the ending.

The scan itself was not like an MRI, from what I have learned. I had to lie down on a flat table. They gave me a comfortable pillow for my knees, so that my back was relaxed. They also placed my hands above my head and had me hold onto a rope, so that I wouldn’t squirm. It was actually quite comfortable. I took a nap while the machine made a humming noise and did its thing. The scan only lasted about 15-20 minutes.

When it was all over, I got to celebrate by going to Andee’s house. We ordered Chinese food and I sat in my favorite spot on the couch – exactly one month after my LEEP procedure. We put on the sappy movie that I had seen earlier that day. Heath and I then watched Andee happily watch that stupid movie, while I enjoyed every second if it.

The surgery date was fast approaching and so was Christmas! I received an early Christmas gift from my fabulous sister-in-law Natalie. It was a beautiful pajama gram that had an embroidered tag saying, “Get well soon Maria.” Flannel PJ’s that looked and felt so comfortable, it actually made me excited for the surgery date. I set them aside like I was getting ready for the prom…so proud that I knew what I would be wearing.

Was I completely sane during this time? No. At one point, I will admit that I threw a book off the balcony of my house into the backyard because it said I had gotten cancer from being a negative person. Andee had actually been the one to put this idea into my head, when I called her a couple of days earlier crying about what I had read. Two days after my temper tantrum, I finally went and retrieved the book from the snow, as I thought to myself, “Maybe I could work on being more positive. I’m obviously not handling this well.”

My dad was going to come for my surgery and I was looking forward to seeing him. He joked that I would do anything to get him to come and visit. When I found out that my grandma, the matriarch of the Ortiz family, was going to come for my surgery too, I burst into tears. Grandma is always there for big events – weddings, graduations, and babies. If she was coming out for my surgery, then it meant it was a big deal. That being said, I was so happy I would get to hug her soon.

My mom absolutely wanted to be by my side for the surgery too, but her doctors would not allow her to travel. This didn’t stop her from trying to run away on occasion though. My brothers were on “mom watch” to make sure she didn’t do anything crazy, like steal away on a bus. I really didn’t want her getting sick on account of me.

Christmas was beautiful. It’s too hard to travel around the holidays, both for financial reasons and due to Kevin’s limited time-off from work, so we always spend Christmas Eve and Christmas day at Heath and Andee’s house.

This year, Kevin went above and beyond by giving me a large screen TV to watch while I healed from my upcoming surgery – along with many accessories to go with it. He and our nephew, Matthew, literally had to push the TV into the room. I was speechless.

“See! Now you are not allowed to die!” Andee said joyfully. “Because Kevin spent way too much money on you!” She was crying and giggling at the same time.

“I want you to have everything you need in order to heal comfortably,” he whispered to me as we hugged. Now, material objects are not love, but seeing how much thought Kevin had put into my recovery helped me understand that I was not in this alone –and that is one of the greatest gifts a person can receive.

Yes. I was not alone. I was scared and trying to be as optimistic as possible, but I was not alone. It was something I had to be reminded of yet again, just a week later.

New Year’s was not working out the way I had hoped. In an attempt to wear my pajamas for the big moment, I had decided to throw a party. But, it turned out that Pal and Erin were unable to celebrate with us. On top of that, Andee and Heath randomly won secret shopper tickets to the upcoming football game while buying soda. The game was on New Year’s Eve.

“Why am I having a party?!?!” I exclaimed to Andee, after she let me know the date. “I am so excited for you, but now it seems like no one can really attend any way. Maybe I should cancel…”

“No, no, no!!! Don’t cancel sister,” Andee begged me. “It’s an afternoon game, so we can definitely still make the party.”

That same afternoon, I had been called by the hospital where I was getting my surgery done. They asked me to pay $2,500 up front. So, I had to then spend time calling my insurance company to not only find out why this was happening, but also to double check that I hadn’t been scammed. Needless to say, it had already been a stressful day.

“I just feel like nothing is working out right now,” I sadly confessed to Andee.

Soon after we hung up, I got a text from Lindsay. It read, “Katie says the party is at your house Maria. What time should we be there?” Attached was a picture of flight times.

Lindsay was surprising me for one last hurrah before my surgery!!! I think I danced around the house for about ten minutes. On one of my most stressful days, I was still not alone. Lindsay, Katie, and Andee had to spoil the surprise for me that day, but it was exactly what I needed. New Year’s Eve went off without a hitch. I got to ring in the New Year with so many loved ones.

I can’t possibly begin to explain how many people showered me with positive thoughts, gifts, and tremendous amounts of love during this time.

I then spent the next few days working my butt off to make sure that everything would be okay while I was away from work for six weeks.

Soon my dad and my grandma would be arriving…soon it would be surgery day and all of this would be behind me…soon I would be on the road to recovery.

Part VI – My Life is a Country Song (February 25, 2018)

In the months leading up to my surgery, life had been both memorable and trying.

This past October, on the way to the concert where my friends and I dressed up as Power Rangers, my car epically broke down. There we were…a bunch of Power Rangers with no zords. It had taken about 4 weeks to get it fixed. But, luckily my bother Joey was still in town and we were able to car pool during his last days at work.

Kevin’s nephew, Matthew, came to live with us in May 2016. He brought with him an old cat named Iggy and an adorable dog named Toby. Iggy passed away peacefully in his sleep about six months after Matthew came to Denver. But, Toby we had come to know and love for close to a year and a half.

Toby was a rescue dog that had been through so much and still found the ability to dance his way through life. He literally danced! When he would get super happy, he would bounce on his paws and his nails would hit the hardwood floor, making it sound like he was tap dancing as he followed each of us around the house. I used to jokingly tell him that he had to dance for his food because he would comply every time! Kevin and I instantly fell in love with this little beagle mix, who we guessed was around 14 years old. He learned quickly that he owned our hearts. Eventually, he even slept in our bed instead of with Matthew.

In November, while I was getting ready for my LEEP procedure, I had noticed that he had a small bump under his chin. He was eating and drinking fine though, so I let Kevin and Matthew know we needed to keep an eye on it. With everything that was going on, there wasn’t much we could do. But, a few weeks later, the bump had gotten considerably larger. I made an appointment for him as soon as I could. Andee, always by my side no matter what the appointment was, came with me to receive the bad news. Toby had cancer. Unfortunately, the aggressive tumor was not something they could operate on either due to his age. It was the first time I cried about the word “cancer” since I had been diagnosed. Me being sick was one thing, but this was a sweet old dog. This was Toby. I held onto Andee in that small vet room and cried, telling myself that this must be how others felt when I told them that I have cancer.

Helpless.

The vet warned me it would be quick. We had hoped we would have him for a month, but we lost Toby just a week and a half later.

So, my life was a country song. My car broke down, I had cancer, and my dog died.

Up to this point, my story has been focused on the positive times. With so much going on, I have made it a point to remember Halloween, Thanksgiving, Erin’s birthday, Christmas and New Year’s. My Denver crew, by my side at each of those events, had proven to be there for me through thick and thin. They made me laugh during the occasional times I cried or threw books off balconies. And, when I would finally get angry, they would make me laugh again. I had the most amazing support system, and even more reinforcements were on the way. My dad arrived the Saturday before my surgery, with Grandma Ortiz flying in right behind him on Sunday.

My dad spoiled the crap out of us. We dined and wined the weekend away. The last dinner before my surgery was at one of our favorite restaurants. As we all sat together at the circular table, laughing and telling stories, the waitress asked if we were celebrating anything.

“Well, sort of…” I explained happily. “I have been diagnosed with cancer, but I am having it removed tomorrow. So, we are here to give the cancer its last meal.” The waitress was so touched by how we were all handling the situation, that she gave me a beautiful yellow rose and let us know the manager would be paying for my dinner.

My grandma was really happy when she saw the rose. She told me that when the Virgin Mary hears your prayers, she sends you a sign in the form of a rose. The table became quiet as we heard her beautiful words. We all were now certain of what the next day would bring.

As we checked in for the surgery, my dad took pictures for me to capture the moment in my “Book O’ Cervical Cancer”. The Book O’ Cervical Cancer was a binder of all my documentation. It had my bills, appointments, insurance papers, and even my will. A will that made me realize, 1) I didn’t have a lot of stuff, and 2) I have lived a truly beautiful life. If for some reason I wasn’t going to make it through this surgery, I had no regrets. I had my team all trained to love and respect the binder and to go to it when they had any questions.

When we got to the hospital and checked in, Andee handed me a card and a short story she had written for me. She let me know that she had finished it before my cancer diagnosis, which led her to believe that I was going to be completely fine.

It was the most beautiful thing of hers that I have ever read and it was exactly what I needed in those moments. I insisted that she share it with the world, so here it is.

Someday When We’re Old

I was accompanied to the pre-op room with the following people: Dad, Grandma, Andee, Kevin, Pal and Erin. They were my family and I absolutely needed them there until the last second. Every time a doctor or a nurse came into the room to introduce themselves, explain what they were going to poke me with, or to ask me to swallow some pills, they would look at all of us in awe.

Of course I was scared. I never had surgery before. I had never even used the gas at the dentist’s office. My family had me laughing though, until the moment I was going to be taken away for surgery. As I hugged each of them, I started to cry and the fear began to fully set in.

The hospital staff wheeled the bed into the operating room. They had given me something to make me loopy before all of this, but I think my adrenaline was starting to have a counter effect on the medicine. They transferred me to the operating table and started to hook me up to all sorts of things. The nurses and doctors let me know though that everything was going to be just fine. My anesthesiologist, who was the happiest person I have ever met, said, “You should be feeling really loopy right now.” Although I couldn’t see behind her mask, I knew she had a giant smile on her face. She was so happy. “I want what she’s having,” I thought to myself.

“Actually, I feel fine.” I told her. “I was feeling loopy, but now I feel just fine.” I was looking nervously around the room though, as I tried to calm myself down.

“Uh oh…well then, I am going to give you a little something to relax you. We want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

I talked to a lot of people who had surgery before I went into this room. They had all let me know about the “great countdown” moment. The anesthesiologist would ask me to countdown from 100, or 10, or ask if I knew all of the presidents. (Yes, one friend was asked to name all the presidents backwards – something I would have failed at miserably). They told me that I wouldn’t be able to make it past the fourth word. I would close my eyes and when I opened them again, I would be in the recovery room and done with surgery. They also let me know that I wouldn’t dream. A fact that weirded me out, since I have always been a very vivid dreamer.

As I was laying, there listening to the anesthesiologist and her assistant talk, I felt my eyes become heavy.

“Go ahead and close your eyes Maria, if you want to. I gave you something extra, so it might be hitting you right now. I will be giving you the anesthesia soon. Just relax.”

As I listened to her voice, I let my eyes close. Then I was gone. I was no longer in the operating room. I was at one of my favorite places in the world…Andee’s house, with all of my favorite people. We were laughing, talking, and drinking at the kitchen table. I was enjoying a vodka cranberry and can still remember how it tasted. I was having the time of my life!

I believe all of the amazing positivity surrounding me in the many days leading up to this moment is why I was in such a good place while I was being cut open and parts of me were being sent to a lab.

“Maria. It’s time to wake up. You’re all done.” I heard the nurse’s friendly voice as I opened my eyes, but it took me a second to realize what was going on. I was actually just about to take a sip of my vodka cranberry, when I opened my eyes and was staring at the ceiling. I was being rolled out of the OR.

“I dreamed!” I bragged to the nurse. “Everyone said I wouldn’t, but I did!”

“Oh wow. That is rare,” she replied back.

“Did they take my uterus?” I asked, as soon as I was able to get a hold of myself.

This was the question that would let me know if I was cancer free or about to endure chemo and radiation. I was a little mad at myself for not asking this first, and bragging about my dream instead.

The nurse was quiet as we rolled down the hall. I could sense the wheels turning in her head, contemplating if she should answer the question. Then I heard her sigh and simply reply, “No.” She knew I fully understood what that meant. She didn’t need to explain it any further. The cancer had spread to my sentinel lymph node.

“OH FUDGE!”

(Yes, I said “fudge”. I don’t cuss…not because I don’t believe in it or think it’s vulgar. It’s because I know that if I were to cuss, I would instantly have the mouth of a sailor – which I want to avoid.)

“That means I need chemo and radiation.” I let the nurse know, in case she didn’t. By this point, I was staring up at one spot on the ceiling. I think I was in the recovery room now. While I let the news sink in, I laid there and cried. It wasn’t a loud ugly cry. I simple stared at that ceiling and let the tears uncontrollably roll down my face without apology.

When I was first diagnosed, I told my friends, family, and even my co-workers, that I did not want them “getting weird” about my cervical cancer.

“Don’t go buy ribbons and be weird about it. Don’t start running marathons for cancer or donating things in my honor. That will just piss me off.”

It was the only thing I was very blunt about to everyone I had talked to, because I myself have always been weird about how I handle bad news.

As I lay there, I realized why I had reacted this way. I was not supposed to have a serious cancer scare. I was supposed to be easily cured. I assumed this would be some story I told people about, not in a bagging way, but in a nonchalant way…like, “Oh yeah. I read that book while I was recovering from surgery. I had cancer, but it’s gone now.” I wasn’t meant to be a real cancer victim. I was supposed to just be someone who had some cells freak out in a certain spot and then had them cut out.

I wasn’t supposed to compare myself to others who have suffered through months or years of cancer.

I had told people that I wanted to share my story with other women. I wanted to explain what happens between being diagnosed and going into surgery. But, there were also going to be women who would have surgery and still have to endure chemo and radiation. What if they had no reference for that experience? What good would my story be if it ended with surgery?

It was then, while I stared up at that ceiling, that I truly believed everything happens for a reason. I knew that God had a plan for me, and I still trusted that the Virgin Mary had heard my prayers and sent me that yellow rose.

I felt the tears stop rolling down as I realized one very important thing. In order to share this story, and help others, I needed to go through chemo and radiation. It was going to suck and I was not looking forward to it, but if I could help one person who has to go through this someday, it would all be worth it.

Yes. Everything happens for a reason. For now, I simply needed to be happy that I made it through surgery alive and didn’t need that stupid will after all. I needed to be happy that I had family in town and people I loved to surround me and make me laugh.

I needed to live.

“I want to see my family. I need my people,” I told the nurse. In my head, it had only been a few minutes since I had left the OR room. I was not sure though, because of the drugs, if that was actually the case.

“Where is your pain at right now – on a scale from 1-10?” she asked.

“Ummm…I feel like I did way too many Jillian Michaels ab work outs yesterday and I’m starting to regret it today. So, I would say it’s a 2. It’s manageable, but I know it’s there.”

She made note of that and then said she had to check on another patient and would be right back. It appeared that the drugs were messing with me again. To me, it seemed like she came back about three minutes later, but my pain had changed dramatically in that time span. So, I’m assuming I had actually fallen asleep for a bit.

“Where is your pain at now?” she asked.

“An 8,” I simply said.

“Oh, wow. That is a huge change from a 2. I’m going to give you some medicine for the pain.”

“Okay. “ I replied, happily followed by, “I need to pee.”

Now, why was I so happy that I had to pee? Well, one of the possible side effects of my hysterectomy was losing the sensation to pee. The surgeon had given me a giant list of possible things that could go wrong, and that one had stressed me out. She said if this happened, then I would be one of those people that had to go and sit on the toilet every couple of hours, just in case I had to pee and didn’t know it. She also warned me that if I didn’t pee on my own before I left the hospital, then they would put a catheter in me and send me home with it! So, I was super happy I needed to pee.

“Okay. I will be right back and we will get you to a bathroom. You seem pretty coherent, so I’m going to get you out of here as soon as possible and back to your family.”

“YAY!!!!” I wanted so badly to get back to my dad, grandma, Andee, Kevin, Pal and Erin. I wanted my people. Also, whatever drug she had given me was making me feel like a million dollars. I was ready to go home!

Two nurses helped get me out of bed and into a wheel chair. One nurse was going to take me to the bathroom, but she was new at the hospital and needed directions on where it was.

“I’m going to pretend we are two drunk girls in the club sharing the same stall,” I joked with the nurse who got stuck escorting me into the bathroom. She was really young and super sweet. I wondered how many people she has had to watch pee.

They took me to another room where I was going to meet with a different nurse who would give me, and whoever was taking care of me, instructions on my care. They asked me what juice I would like to drink. I asked for cranberry, since I had just dreamt about it. At first, I was only allowed three of my people in this room, but somehow I was able to get four. I can’t remember what I said or did, but I pulled it off! So, my grandma helped me get dressed, while Kevin and my dad waited outside. And at some point, when I started to ask for Andee, my dad went and got her too.

Kevin was going to be the person giving me shots in the stomach every day for the next two weeks. He was really good at retaining all of the information they gave us.

My Kevin is exceptional during a crisis.

I joked the entire time the nurse talked. I thought I was hilarious. I didn’t feel loopy, just really happy.

“As you can see, she is a little loopy from the medicine,” the nurse said at one point.

“Oh no…this is me normal, huh guys?” I looked at Dad, Grandma, Andee and Kevin. I could tell they were all exhausted, but they smiled and agreed with me. I was naturally nuts.

After the instructions were all given, they wheeled me out to see the others and get me in the car. I kept telling the nurse that I felt like a queen being escorted everywhere.

“I’m ALIVE!!!!!” I shouted to Pal and Erin when I saw them. I was so happy to give them hugs from the wheel chair.

I continued to joke with the nurse, while she got me into the car. She gave me a big hug and said that I was her favorite patient of the day, which I’m sure she says to all of her patients. I made her list the names of all the people that had helped me that day, from checking me in, to escorting me out. I wanted to send them all a card and chocolates. I was so thankful to have made it out of this surgery.

When we got in the car, my dad asked if I wanted some french fries. (Apparently, they had all taken a trip to the cafeteria at some point and had smuggled out the leftovers.)

“YUM FRENCH FRIES!!!” I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I smelled them. I shoved a whole bunch in my mouth and then realized I couldn’t swallow because of the tube they had down my throat during surgery. “Oh man, it’s hard to swallow – dang it!” I said with a mouth full. “But they taste so good!!!”

As my family helped escort me to my bed, I let them all know that I was not tired. I wanted to hang out longer and hear how their day went and what I had missed out on. I remember looking at Andee, Dad and Grandma. I could see the exhaustion on their faces. They obviously had a very long day while I was sleeping. So, instead, I decided to let them go back to Andee’s house to get some rest.

As I hugged my Dad goodbye, I started to cry.

“I’m so sorry that you and Grandma came all the way out here and they couldn’t even take my uterus.” I began to feel like I had disappointed them. With tears in his eyes, my dad reassured me and let me know that it wasn’t my fault. He then explained that the doctor had let them know we would be hearing from her in few days with the lab results.

We now knew the cancer had spread to the sentinel lymph nodes, but we were waiting to see if it had spread to the Para-aortic lymph nodes. We did not want that to be the case.

My ovaries were now somewhere in my guts. (They had to move them up so they would be out of the way during my upcoming radiation treatments.) I asked Kevin to help me look at the stitches. They were super cool! I accidently brushed against one of them while I was pointing and noticed I couldn’t feel it.

“OH! WOW KEVIN! I CAN’T FEEL THIS AT ALL!!!” I laughingly said to him, while I poked the stitches like an idiot. “Nothing!” I had five small cuts across my abdomen. Since they didn’t take the uterus, I didn’t have the one that would have been right above my vagina.

Pal and Erin obliged my happy mood and stayed with me and Kevin. They told me all about how their day went and I told them all about how quickly mine went.

The pain started to come in the middle of the night. Kevin was amazing. The second I made a weird whimper sound, he would get up and ask me what I needed. He helped me get out of bed, would walk me to the bathroom, and then helped lay me back down again. He gave me my medication and even wrote down the times I took each one.

Every time he helped me out of bed, I could feel my organs shift. It wasn’t painful, just a weird sensation. I could also completely feel the digestive process from beginning to end. It made eating hard and something I didn’t want to do, because I could tell you exactly where the food was throughout the day. Not wanting to eat was no match for Grandma though. She cooked the most beautiful meals and made everyone eat all day. She wouldn’t take “no” for an answer – which is exactly what I needed to help me heal.

My dad had to leave a couple of days later. At that point, I had yet to have a bowel movement (which was something I strangely was very proud that my body regularly did before the surgery). By the time my dad landed in California though, it had finally happened. I remember being so excited to text him what I had accomplished, and he was also happy to use the “poop” emoji for the first time.

They had prescribed me pain pills for after the surgery, but after two days, I realized that ibuprofen worked better. I was sore and really swollen. I felt full without eating because of how swollen I was. It felt like I ate too much at Thanksgiving because my belly was all expanded and didn’t want to fit in my pants. I couldn’t see past my belly for about a week after surgery. All that being said though, I convinced myself the pain was not worse than the time I hurt my back falling down the stairs in Chicago. Since I had something worse to compare it to, I decided to count my blessings instead of dwell on the pain.

It was hard to find a spot for Kevin to inject the blood thinner every morning, but we somehow found our groove. We would wake up at 8:00am and he would help me out of bed. I would go to the bathroom while he got the shot ready. Then we would both look for a spot – one that wasn’t already bruised, but easy enough for me and him to pinch so that the needle could do its job. Afterwards, I would walk around the house in order to get through the small burning sensation it would bring. By the end of the two weeks, Kevin had to drag me out of bed because I didn’t want to be poked anymore. I had no choice in the matter though.

We heard from the doctor on the Thursday after surgery. She let me know that although we had repositioned my ovaries in an attempt to avoid early menopause, there was still a 50% chance they would start to fail because we had moved them. I asked her how I would know if I was going into early menopause and she said I would start to get hot flashes. She also let me know that my para-aortic lymph nodes were clear. No cancer there! This was great news.

My recovery time had changed from 6 weeks to 4 weeks, because they did not take out my uterus. Since I was unsure as to when I would start chemo and radiation, I thought about going back to work in the interim.

I heard from the scheduler who told me that my appointment to meet with the chemo doctor was set for the following Tuesday, January 16th. I was hoping to have all of my questions about chemo and radiation answered on this day, including when I would be starting treatment.

Andee made a Facebook group, so that we could keep our close family and friends updated. It made it a lot easier to update anyone that was worried or asking questions all at once. It was scary seeing it in writing, but it helped to read the words of encouragement from so many. We also made a plan to start my blog soon. I needed to get the word out there about my experiences up to this point. I was worried that once I started chemo, I would lose the momentum to spread the word about cervical cancer.

I had to say goodbye to Grandma the Sunday after my surgery. By then, I was able to leave the house for small outings to “eat” lunch. Eating was still proving to be difficult, but my dad told me that I had to get out and walk around a bit. I wasn’t allowed to stay cooped up in my room all day.

I had visitors every day that first week. I loved it. I loved that I was never alone to be scared or let my mind think too much about the unknown path ahead…a path that I was anxious to embark on.

The sooner I started, the sooner I could tell this cancer that it could go straight to hell.

And, the sooner I could get back to living every day to the fullest.

Part VII – The Cycle of Life (March 12, 2018)

When I went to meet with the chemo doctor the following week, I was expecting so many answers. Unfortunately, for this meeting, I got none. Apparently, my insurance company set me up to meet the wrong doctor at the wrong location where I was supposed to receive my chemo and radiation treatments. While Kevin and I sat in the room, the doctor just kept asking me over and over again why I was there. My response was simple.

“Well, I have cancer and they told me to come to you to discuss chemo.”

“Yes, I understand that, but I don’t understand why they sent you to me. I guess I can have my nurse talk to you about the chemo you are going to be taking, but I highly doubt I am the doctor that is going to treat you.”

“So you don’t know, at least, when I will be starting the chemo and radiation?”

“No. I have no idea why you are here,” she said flippantly.

She really pissed me off. I started to crack. I came out of surgery smiling and making jokes. I had kept a positive demeanor for everyone, while we waited to find out lab results and what the next steps would be. And now, here was this person who gave me zero answers and acted like I was a waste of her time. Her nurse was really nice and did review the chemo process with me, but the doctor had already ruined my experience.

I contacted my surgeon and let her know what had happened. She was on the case right away and said she was going to get to the bottom of it and make sure that I got a consult with the correct doctors as soon as possible. I really like my surgeon. I never second guess putting my life in her hands.

I contacted member services at my insurance company and gave them a good talking. I let them know how frustrated I was. I even started to cry over the phone because I was so frustrated that I had wasted the little energy I had just to be turned away by that doctor.

All of these phone conversations happened while Kevin was driving me to meet with the HR team at my job. I had arranged the meeting in hopes that I could give them some hard dates for when I would be returning, and so that I could also fill out any necessary paperwork for my leave.

I can’t express enough how amazing my job was during all of this. One of my favorite people there had just finished being treated for ovarian cancer and she was able to not just help me when it came to HR matters, but she was my friend and able to relate to everything I was going through. She helped calm me down with a hug the moment I walked in the door.

They let me know that as soon as I had answers, they would help provide me with all of the necessary paperwork. I let them know that if it was going to take a long time to get into chemo and radiation, I wanted to try and return to work for a couple of weeks. I was feeling that confident in my healing process…until that night.

It started at 4:00am, when I woke up and went to the restroom. I noticed I had started to bleed quite a bit more than the light spotting I was having from surgery. Then I woke up again right before 6:00am and noticed that I had soaked through an entire pad in that time frame. Every time I went to check on things, I noticed I had blood clots coming out of me. My take home instructions were not to panic unless the bleeding was over the course of an hour. At this point, I was at two hours. So, I assumed that I was having my first period in three years. I called my surgeon’s office at 8:00am and let them know that I was bleeding quite a bit, but I wasn’t dizzy and I didn’t have a lot of pain. They told me to keep a close eye on it and to contact them immediately if it got worse.

It got worse. By 10:30am, I was lying on the bathroom floor and feeling dizzy. I had soaked through two pairs of pants. My surgeon was in surgery, but the nurse over the phone was setting me up with a 2:00pm appointment. That way, I could see her as soon as she was out of the OR.

At noon, Kevin was preparing to take me to the ER – but I told him “no”. I just needed to make it to my appointment and I would be fine. My dad told me to go to the ER and my response again was, “No. I don’t want to spend $5000 on whatever is happening. I am going to see my doctor and she will help me.”

Shortly after 1:00pm, Andee arrived to help Kevin get me to the hospital. Kevin literally had to carry me to the car. The bleeding was getting worse. I had to put a little padding down in Andee’s car, so that I wouldn’t bleed all over the back seat. During the entire drive to the hospital, I could feel the blood pouring out of me. Another pair of pants had been ruined.

Andee parked right at the front of the hospital, so that Kevin could escort me inside. I could barely walk. I felt so weird and dizzy. A security guard asked if we needed a wheelchair when he saw me. Kevin thanked him and held on to me while we waited for him to return. I believe he was only gone for a few seconds, but in that timeframe I began to hold on to Kevin for dear life.

“I feel so weird Kevin!” I was grasping at him and making a weird moaning noise as my eyes saw blackness begin to spread across everything and a tingly sensation enveloped my head.

“Maria…Maria…She’s out cold!” I could hear Kevin saying anxiously.  I had a feeling that I was now in the wheel chair, but it took a while for the darkness to fade away. I could hear Andee’s footprints as she started running towards me. I could feel Kevin’s hands stroking my face, as both of them began talking to the guards.

“She needs to go to the ER. We have called an ambulance for her,” one of the security guards was saying.

“No.” I was starting to snap out of whatever had just happened. “No, I am not paying for that. I refuse the service.” I could barely hold myself up in that wheel chair, but the thought of another massive medical bill put me in panic mode.

“I just need to get to my doctor. She is upstairs.” Andee had checked me in at the hospital kiosk, so that they would know I was in the building and was trying to get to my appointment.

“I don’t think your doctor can help you, if you are in need of blood. Only the ER will have that for you,” the security guard tried to explain.

The paramedics showed up quickly after that and I tried to fight them off, but I could barely move. They were asking Kevin and Andee so many questions, but not understanding any of their responses. They had to repeatedly explain that I had cancer and they had attempted a hysterectomy, but in the end they just took out my fallopian tubes and I was to begin chemo and radiation treatment soon. They told them I was on blood thinners.

“Why would they put her on blood thinners before her surgery?” the lady paramedic asked.

“I already had the surgery. I am on them to avoid blood clots now.” I must not have been speaking up enough because the lady paramedic kept asking that stupid question. This is why I wanted my surgeon. I wouldn’t have to explain to her what she did inside of me.

Kevin and Andee told me I had no choice. I was going into the ambulance and being taken to the ER across the street.

“I don’t want to go in the ambulance!” I insisted.

“Well,” the paramedic lady replied, “if you can get up and walk yourself across the street we won’t take you.” I sat there contemplating how far I could make it. A few minutes ago, I wasn’t even able to make it four steps before I passed out on Kevin. Maybe Kevin could just carry me across the street if I passed out again…

Andee and Kevin saw me contemplating the request and intervened before I actually took the challenge. The paramedics began to transport me to the stretcher. I felt so weird. I felt so weak.

“I bled on the wheel chair,” I said as I tried to apologize to the security guards. I couldn’t see their reaction though, since the paramedics were all over me. Kevin let me know later that there was a bunch of blood on the wheel chair and that I had even bled on the side walk when I first passed out. He had caught me as I slowly crumpled into a sitting position, but I had already left my mark on the pavement. He also let me know that I passed out with my eyes open – a terrifying sight to see I’m sure.

They told Andee and Kevin to meet us at the ER across the street. I wanted to protest and demand they come in the ambulance with me, but my time of making demands was at an end. No one was listening to me.

We sat in the ambulance for what felt like forever while they tried to find a vein to start an IV. The girl paramedic was poking my left arm, while the boy paramedic was poking my right arm with the biggest needle he could find. He was not very good at this. I felt him start to look at my neck and silently wonder if he could get a vein there. I gave him a look that said if he even tried it I would scream! I was not supposed to be here. I was not someone who got loaded into ambulances and taken away from my family. “Who is this person?” I kept thinking to myself.

When the boy paramedic asked how she was progressing, the girl paramedic finally gave up on the vein she was poking at. She left the needle in, just in case it could help the ER staff, but she said it wasn’t the best IV. I’m glad my face still showed what I was thinking. They obviously read that I was done with them poking at me.

“Do you know my blood type?” I asked the girl paramedic. When I first learned that I needed surgery, I tried to see a positive light about it because I would finally know my blood type – which was something I never had a need to know before. So far, no one had bothered to tell me what it was.

“No. We don’t have your information. The ER will get that after you check in,” she explained.

“THEN WHY THE HELL ARE YOU POKING ME?!?!”…I thought loudly inside my head.

Eventually, we made it to the ER. They rolled me to a room and I was suddenly surrounded by nurses. The girl paramedic was explaining my situation wrong again.

“They have her on blood thinners, which is weird because she is going into surgery.”

“No. I already had the surgery,” I explained to the room. “I am on blood thinners because I already had the surgery. They took out my tubes and moved my ovaries up somewhere in my guts so that I can get chemo and radiation.”

“Oh!” I believe I actually heard the click in her head. “Well that makes more sense,” the girl paramedic said. “I tried to start a line, but her veins are really small since she is bleeding so much and dehydrated. I have it taped in case you want to try and use it.”

The paramedics finally left once the nurses thanked them and told them they could go. One nurse looked at the attempted line and sort of smiled at me as she took it out. She knew from my face that I completely agreed with her decision. She started her own line with ease and started to hydrate me with an IV.

They let me know that my family was already waiting for me. They would let them back as soon as I was settled and done answering all of their questions. I asked them if they could let my surgeon know where I was, since I was on the way to see her when I was kidnapped.

“I’m not this person,” I told one of the nurses while she was asking me about my medical history. “I’ve never been this person.”

There was a male doctor on duty that day in the ER. He came by and introduced himself and let me know that my doctor was sending some of her partner OBGYN doctors to check on me later. He had said he wanted to look down there as well, to see how much I was bleeding. The nurse had arranged a whole bunch of instruments for him, but in the end, he literally just looked at my vagina and then ran away. That was the first man doctor I had ever shown my vagina to, and he reacted exactly how I thought any man doctor would.

When my doctor’s OBGYN partners came, they were very professional. When they asked if anyone else had inspected me, I let them know about the male doctor looking and running away. They all looked at each other and rolled their eyes. “Men,” they all seemed to think together.

There were three of them and they did a full inspection. By this time, Andee was with me and holding my hand. (Kevin had politely left the room to give us privacy.) They were gentle enough, but my body was done showing people my cash and prizes. They had to ask a few times for me to spread my legs, because my instinct was to close them. They removed all of the clots they could find and let me know that they had put some medicine on a bleeding spot on my cervix. Whatever they did, my body finally stopped bleeding completely.

Andee let me know that she was keeping the family updated. She also said that she had talked to our dad.

“Did he say, ‘I told you so’?” I asked, as I laughed at my own stupidity. I should have gone to the ER when he first told me to go. I would never have had to use an ambulance if I had listened to him.

“No,” she giggled back. “But, he did say that if the hospital calls for an ambulance, then they will pay for it – not you.” Andee always knew exactly how to cheer me up. I would not be spending $5000 after all!

Kevin told me that when I fainted, it had been the scariest moment of his life. He joked that he had thought I was being dramatic right before it happened, but I could see that I had really thrown him for a loop. I made a promise to myself at that moment to never put him through that again.

Pal came right after work to see us and make sure we were okay. He was able to talk to us for a little bit before they discharged me. The IV fluids they gave me had rehydrated me and my color was back to normal. Andee and Kevin said I had gotten scary pale through the incident.

The overall consensus of what happened? Well, first of all, I had an IUD that had been removed. It is known that some women experience heavy bleeding after that happens. Secondly, Aunt Flow had not been over for a visit for three years. Apparently, she was angry at me for being so distant. In addition, my cervix had a tumor that was most likely irritated because I was trying to get rid of it. These three things all added up at the same time, causing my uterus to explode with fury and vengeance.

Talk about a hell of a way to be welcomed back to the menstrual cycle club.

I had to write an email the next day to my HR team and let them know that I would not be returning to work for a couple of weeks after all. I needed to focus all of my time and energy on getting better. I raised my metaphorical white flag in surrender.

That day, I kept asking myself, “Who is this person?” Well, I finally had an answer.

“This person is the new temporary me.”

That’s right. I was going to fight like hell to make it only temporary.

I heard from the scheduler. I would be meeting with my radiation and chemo doctors the following week. I was going into battle and I was finally going to meet my team to take this cancer down once and for all.

In the meantime, I needed to be gentle with myself and continue to heal from all that I had been through so far…

Part VIII – It Takes a Village (March 20, 2018)

During the week that I had to wait to talk to my doctors, my Denver crew made sure I had someone with me at all times. They were the reason I wasn’t scared or worried. Erin and Pal would stop by to check on me, and Andee and Heath even made an appearance after their date night to bring me a slice of cake from a fancy schmancy restaurant. Kevin happily ran out to get me anything my heart, or weird digestive system, desired. They drove me around during snow storms and cooked for me – even if I could only eat two bites. On January 23^rd, I was finally at a point where I felt comfortable sitting in a movie theatre. It took a little over two weeks of healing from my surgery and ER visit, but I was so excited to be in a normal surrounding again. It was also the day before I got to meet my new doctors…my Denver crew really knew what they were doing. Their art of distraction was incredible.

On Wednesday, January 24^th I met both my new Radiation Oncologist and my Oncology Hematologist. For simplicity’s sake, I am going to call them my radiation doctor (or “Dr. Radiation”) and my chemo doctor (or “Dr. Chemo”). Andee, of course, was by my side for both meetings.

My radiation doctor came highly recommended. He was very kind and professional during our meeting. He spent an hour with me going over every tiny detail of my plan. The first step we needed to do was set up a simulation CT, or mapping appointment, so that he and his team could pinpoint the cancer and hit it directly with the radiation beam every time. They would be giving me small marks the size of the period at the end of this sentence, so that we could line everything up daily. Due to the location of my cancer (the cervix) we had to be wary of side effects for the surrounding organs – mainly the bladder and the rectum.

Fun fact: The uterus lies right in between the bladder and the rectum. Dr. Radiation drew me a picture to visually explain exactly how my body was laid out.

For my first phase of radiation, over the course of 6-7 weeks, I was going to receive at least 28 external radiation treatments every Monday through Friday at 9:00am. It was really important that I have a full bladder and a bowel movement before every single one, so that the radiation beam would hit the same spot every time. If one or the other was off, then it would push against my uterus. This would cause the uterus to move in another direction, in turn resulting in everything not lining up right. Because I am not a robot, I needed to really force my body to get regular, especially since the surgery had already messed that up. I would now be taking Metamucil twice a day, along with stool softeners. I would also need to take Gas X three times a day and I would be chugging water on my way to every appointment.

For my second phase of radiation, I was going to intermittently receive four brachytherapy sessions. Brachytherapy is when a tandem and ovoid applicator is used to deliver the radiation inside the uterus and directly onto the tumor.

Picture Credit: https://aboutbrachytherapy.com/fileadmin/groups/1/cervix_en.jpg

I would need to do a bowel prep before each of these sessions and would also have to check-in for surgery, where I would be given a spinal block beforehand and then put under sedation while they hooked me up like a car battery (the image that comes to mind every time I explain this). When I woke up, I would have no feeling from the waist down, because I’d be hooked up to all of the equipment (“vroom vroom!!!”). I would then be taken back to the radiation room for the actual internal radiation treatment. After a couple of hours, the feeling in my legs would return and I would walk out the door.

The possible side effects during radiation treatment are nausea, diarrhea, and extreme fatigue. My doctor warned me that I would need to be off work not just during the treatments, but that I’d also need 4-6 weeks to recover after they were over. This really threw me for a loop. I was naively thinking that I would go through 6 weeks of hell killing this cancer, but would then wake up on the first day of Week 7 feeling perfectly fine and normal. I never considered that I was going to need time to recover from the actual treatments themselves.

If everything had worked out the way it was supposed to on January 8th, I would have been returning to work February 20^th – six weeks after the cancer had simply been cut out of me. I was now looking at returning to work sometime in May, after all of my treatments and the healing process were over. I had been working consistently since I was 17 years old, so this felt very wrong and un-American to me. I asked the doctor if it was possible to work part-time during all of this, but he was adamant that if I had the option, then I needed to avoid working altogether. He let me know that I would be more of a nuisance during this time than helpful to my coworkers.

“If you want to try and go back to work after 4 weeks, I will sign off on it. But I need to warn you that after 4 weeks you will only be at 60%. I highly suggest you take the full 6 weeks to recuperate. Even then you won’t be at 100%,” Dr. Radiation explained.

Since this man was now the person I was trusting with my life, I obliged him when he said he wanted to take a look at my cervix. Of course he wanted to see “the big show”…I mean everyone was talking about it!

“I know that you have been through a lot these last few weeks, so I’m going to be as gentle as possible,” he assured me.

“Okay. I have a little PTSD after my LEEP procedure,” I warned him. “So, I apologize if I get a little weird during the exam.”

At the beginning of my blog, I joked about the paper towel sheet they always give women when we are having a pap or any other sort of exam “down there”. It was at this appointment that I realized I had moved up in the world. Dr. Radiation’s nurse gave me a real life cloth sheet!

“Wow! Who knew having cancer would have such a perk!” Andee joked with me while I happily undressed and wrapped the beautiful soft cloth around my cash and prizes. “You are really moving up in the world sister!”

Andee held my hand during the exam, which I must say was the gentlest exam I had ever had in my entire life! I was concerned that Dr. Radiation, being a man, might react the same way that Dr. ER did when he looked at it and ran out of the room. It turns out that Dr. Radiation was a perfect gentleman. He saw that I still had stiches tape from my surgery and gently removed each piece from my abdomen. He joked that when I saw my surgeon, I needed to tell her that they fell off on their own. Not only that, but his nurse gave me two washcloths to clean myself up with afterwards. Yes, you heard me right…not one, but two wash cloths! I felt like a real lady!

“Look sister, LOOK!” I was aghast by their hospitality, as I waved the wash cloths in front of her as soon as they left the room to give me some privacy. “I’ve gotta call Mom and tell her all about this! I always thought Mom was crazy for having a man gynecologist, but it all makes sense now. I think men gynecologists are nicer to the area since they don’t have one. This whole time, I have been going to women. Women are all too hard on each other! A man actually treats it with respect. Probably because they don’t know how it feels, so they are extra nice to it!”

I found out later, from my childhood friend Kalli, that apparently some women have never experienced the paper towel sheet. Some women have had cloth sheets this whole time. I told her to appreciate the high life she has been living. Three different states, and several different locations of pap smears, and this was the first one for me. We joked it might have just been because I was brown. “Uh oh… another brown person…better hide the cloth sheets! She might try and steal one!” We laughed and laughed at our bad racist joke that only two best friends could get away with saying to each other.

On the way out of Dr. Radiation’s office, they scheduled my Simulation CT/Mapping appointment for that Friday. I was happy to see that they were just as eager as I was to get started. My first radiation appointment was also officially set for February 5^th.

“On Friday, we will be giving you the tattoos for the mapping,” the receptionist mentioned nonchalantly.

“Tattoos, huh? Should I expect a man with a “MOM” tattoo on his neck to be giving me the needle?” I joked with her.

Her face got serious when she realized that I didn’t know. “Oh. They are permanent tattoos. They are very small, but permanent.”

“Oh shoot! Good to know. I guess I can’t say I don’t have any tattoos anymore after Friday.” I smiled to assure her that I was not freaking out.

Next stop, Dr. Chemo. He was very nice – a bit of a hipster, but his personality oozed politeness and kindness. The chemo drug I would be on was called Cisplatin. He and his nurse were very informative. I would be receiving the drug intravenously once a week. He said that he didn’t want me to have a port because I had already been through so much. A port would have required another surgery, so he thought we should avoid it. Each treatment would take about three hours to complete. The first hour, I would receive magnesium and fluids to hydrate my body. The second hour, I would receive the Cisplatin. During the last hour, they would hydrate me again with fluids in order to protect my kidneys.

“Chemo is scary, because it goes through your entire system. It’s better to look at it like this,” Dr. Chemo explained. “We are not just attacking the cancer you know you have. We are going to kill any cancer that is inside of you, whether you know about it or not.”

Throughout the treatments, we would need to keep a close eye on my white blood count. So, I would need to have my blood drawn once a week, preferably on the Friday or Saturday before my Monday appointments. Then Dr. Chemo could be certain that it was safe to administer the treatment for that week.

There was so much I would have to remember and keep track of during this time.

I found out that I needed to drink 64 ounces of water a day, or at least enough until my urine was clear. Staying hydrated was huge! Dr. Chemo’s nurse explained to me that most symptoms could be avoided if I stayed hydrated. Unfortunately, I am not the most avid water drinker, so this stressed me out. Pal bought me a special thermos that had 32 ounces marked on it, to help me easily keep track.

I had to avoid alcohol (something I had already been doing since I learned I would need chemo and radiation) because it lowered the immune system. I was also told to try and avoid caffeine, since it would cancel out my water intake.

Nausea was going to be a common side effect, but I could not afford to be puking. That would result in dehydration and they had already expressed how important it was for me to stay hydrated. So, I would be put on anti-nausea meds. The main one was Zofran. My dad, as well as a friend who had ovarian cancer, had told me not to stop taking the anti-nausea meds once I started. I needed to take them whether I had nausea or not. For all I knew, the pills would do their job and that would be why I wouldn’t feel nauseous later. It was better to be safe than sorry.

I also might get ringing in my ears.

I could also get a tingling feeling in my fingers and toes.

I would definitely experience fatigue and maybe even soreness.

Since my body was going to have a harder time fighting infection, I had to be on alert if I got a fever of 100.4 or higher, and also if I had chills or any flesh wounds. I needed to become a germaphobe during these 6 weeks of treatment.

I also needed to eat. Now was the time to make calories count. For example, if I was going to drink milk, then I might as well drink whole milk. There was a small chance that I would lose the ability to taste food, but even if everything tasted like cardboard, I still had to eat.

Something else I had to do was to take very good care of my mouth in order to avoid mouth sores. My brother Ray, our family dentist, was going to send me special toothpaste during this critical time. (How lucky am I to have both a doctor and a dentist in my immediate family?) They told me to try and rinse my mouth twice a day with water and baking soda, or water and salt, or biotin rinse to keep it clean. If I did get mouth sores, then I would have to stay away from sugar completely.

Weirdly enough, I already brushed my teeth with baking soda. This was a habit I started when I was in high school because I had braces. My hygienist had said that it would help me avoid getting the weird stains that braces could cause. So, I brushed with regular toothpaste, and then once a day I did an extra brushing with baking soda. Once the braces were off, I stopped brushing with baking soda for a few years. I was devastated later though, when my brother had to give me my first filling for an adult cavity. Ever since then, I went back to using baking soda (after blaming the cavity on my laziness).

The biggest question on everyone’s mind though, was if I would lose my hair. A person’s hair is so much of who they are…how they color it, or cut it, or do absolutely nothing to it seems to validate their personality. I think this is why everyone fears losing their hair when they hear the big C word. It’s not just hair, it’s who they are. I was very fortunate that in my case, Cisplatin was not one of the chemo drugs that took your hair. They did warn me that it might get thinner though.

The chemo people agreed that I would not be able to work full time during my treatments. This was not only due to the simple fact that I was going to be at the hospital for 3-4 hours a week, but I would also be dealing with symptoms for the rest of the time.

When we were done talking about all the ins and outs of treatment, Dr. Chemo asked if he could listen to my heart and lungs. Before he started though, he put a gentle hand on my shoulder and asked, “How are you doing through all of this? You are so young to have to be dealing with such a serious subject. It takes a village to fight cancer. You will have that in us, your doctors, but I want to be sure you will have that in your friend and family circle as well. Do you have enough support right now?”

His question was so gentle and genuine that it caught me off guard.

“Oh yes, I have an amazing support system – my family. In town alone, I have my sister (I pointed to Andee) and her husband, who I call my brother. I have my boyfriend Kevin and our best friends Pa…”

I cracked. I started to cry when I tried to say Pal and Erin’s names and it was because in that one moment I could feel the love from all of my friends and family at once – and I had no idea how to express that to him. “Sorry! I am just overwhelmed with the support I have,” I tried to explain.

Dr. Chemo’s nurse ended our appointment by showing us the infusion room. It had a beautiful view of downtown Denver. She warned me that I should dress in layers because the chemo could make me cold. I was allowed to have two people come with me and I could bring food and electronic devices. There was a chemo class they wanted me to attend the following Monday too, just to be certain that I was ready for anything.

Andee and I met Pal for pizza at the same place they had gotten lunch while I was in that fateful surgery a couple of weeks earlier. I told Pal how much I trusted my doctors and how lucky I was to have the best of the best.

The next day, Erin took me to my check-up appointment with my surgeon. She was happy with how my incisions were healing. She verified that it is normal for me to be feeling the digestive process and promised that would go away with time. I had noticed that after a long day though, I would feel a weird cramp or pain in my left side – right under my rib cage. The theory was that I was feeling one of my hidden ovaries. I explained this to her before asking…

“By any chance did you hide one of my ovaries here?” She nodded yes, that she had. “My sister and I are calling my ovaries Thing 1 and Thing 2 now,” I responded. “Thing 1 is the only one that I feel from time to time. Thing 2 seems to be happy where she is.”

She explained that she had attached them to my abdominal cavity with special stitches that were set to dissolve in 90 days. They were being kept in place with the stitches for now, during my treatments, but once those 90 days hit the stitches would dissolve and my ovaries would move back to their original spot in my body due to gravity. She was happy that I hadn’t experienced any hot flashes yet. This was a hopeful sign that I would not go into early menopause.

Ironically, I was considered healed enough from surgery to return to work on February 5^th. Of course, that was now the date when I would start chemo and radiation.

I asked when I would see her again. She let me know that Dr. Radiation and Dr. Chemo would be my primary contacts during treatment. Afterwards though, she and Dr. Radiation would take turns seeing me every three months for the next two years. I would then see them every 6 months after those two years were up.

“So you three are my new best friends for years to come?” I asked as I smiled at her.

“We sure are,” she said and smiled back.

It takes a village.

Pal took me to my simulation CT/mapping appointment that Friday. I had to have a full bladder for it, but that got complicated because they wanted me to take a pregnancy test even though I had no tubes. So, I had to give them the urine I had saved up, and then drink even more water to get my bladder full again.

While they were walking me back to get scanned and tattooed, I joked with them. “I will not be pregnant. I have no tubes and I haven’t done the act of making a baby for obvious reasons. You know they tested me right before my surgery as well.”

“Yeah, unfortunately we have to be 100% sure that you aren’t pregnant though, because of all the effects the scans and radiation would have if you were.” I just laughed and rolled my eyes. I had taken more pregnancy tests in the last few months than I ever had in my entire life.

My friends Lindsay and Katie joked that I needed to turn my dot tattoos into “Mi Vida Loca” tattoos or tear drops. I told them that I already looked so gangster, it might be overkill. Kalli told me I should turn them all into the warning symbol for radiation once this was over. I had to admit, I was intrigued by that idea.

Three little dots were all they gave me. One on each hip and one smack dab in the middle of where I assumed the dreaded cancerous cervix was located. They simply poked me with a needle and then rubbed ink over it.

“I don’t think I am brave enough to get a real tattoo,” I told Pal when I went back to him. “They were quick, but it kind of hurt. I don’t want that to happen repeatedly. Is that what getting a tattoo is like?”

“Nah. You got the old school Hawaiian technique. It’s different,” he laughed at me. We then went in search for an epic burrito. I was finally not feeling the entire digestive process, so my hunger had returned.

After my chemo class the following Monday, Kevin took me to my work so that I could talk to them about my delayed return. I cannot stress enough how fortunate I was. They said that once my short term disability was done, I would go into long term disability. They would make sure to handle everything though and they wanted my main focus to be getting better. They assured me that I would still have a job I could return to once that happened. They gave me an amazing gift basket and had everyone sign a couple of get well cards for me.

I had some very close friends visit me who were expecting their first child. They wanted to be there for me before she couldn’t travel anymore. It was perfect timing before the start of my treatment. We laughed about all of the similarities between going through chemo/cervical cancer and having a kid.

1) Can’t drink alcohol anymore

2) Should avoid coffee/caffeine

3) Everyone wants to look at your special place

4) Pooping issues

5) Having to pee all the time (since I now had to drink 64 ounces of water a day)

6) Not able to travel

7) Nausea

8) Avoiding sick people like the plague

9) Needing to eat constantly (whether you want to or not)

10) Being tired all the time/fatigue

11) Can’t sleep on your tummy (My ovaries new location made it uncomfortable to sleep on my belly. I felt like I could feel them being squished. This, of course, could have all been in my head though.)

Believe me, I found it incredibly ironic that I never wanted a kid, but I was now about to go through most of the symptoms of pregnancy. I already admired women who decided to have children and put their bodies through so much to bring life into this world. Now I admired them even more.

So, if you have a pregnant friend out there, give them a hug and remember that even though they are the ones going through all the pain and symptoms, it still takes a village.

My village was diligently arranging for me to have rides Monday through Saturday for radiation, chemo, and bloodwork appointments. My sister was making a calendar to keep track of everything, including what I ate and who was taking me where. (She even scheduled in my dog Stout for “cuddle time”.) Friends and family who lived out of town were sending me care packages and letters of encouragement. I was overwhelmed not only by their kindness, but from the additional kindness that came from friends of our friends who also went out of their way for me once they heard.

It takes a village, and I had the greatest village a person could ever dream of…

Part IX – Going to War (March 24, 2018)

For the next 6-7 weeks, Kevin was my ride to both radiation and chemo on Mondays and my radiation treatments on Tuesdays. Mondays and Tuesdays were his days off, so I wanted to try and make the most of having the time with him before the symptoms set in. We never really got to see each other often, because of our opposite schedules. So, we went into this time feeling thankful that we would be doing it together.

Andee joined us for the first day of radiation and chemo. She wanted to see how it all worked and I was happy to have her there, in case my first day was rough. This way, Kevin also had some back up.

Radiation was quick. They had a valet service specifically set aside for radiation patients. We walked in and I scanned my patient card, so that they would know I was there for my 9:00am appointment. Soon after, someone came to retrieve me and walked me back to the machine. I pulled my pants down to my knees while the radiation team covered me with a cloth sheet to give me some privacy. They also gave me a warm blanket for the upper half of my body, which I was super thankful to have. (The room was kept cold for the machinery.) While lying down on the devices table, they moved my body so that everything was lining up with my tattoos correctly. They told me not to help them and that I needed to let them move me themselves. Once everything was lined up correctly, they left the room and the machine had parts come out to x-ray me. It x-rayed me from the side and from the top. Once they knew everything was perfect with my tattoo line up, and that my bladder and rectum were as they should be, the machine would pull the x-ray parts back in and the radiation process began. It made a high pitch humming noise as it moved around my pelvic area once, before stopping and then moving around again in the opposite direction. The radiation staff would then come back in and help me off the table. The entire process took less than 15 minutes.

Since we had some time to spare before my chemo appointment, we went to the cafeteria and got some breakfast. It was while we were standing around trying to decide what to eat, that I started to feel a little off from the radiation. A weird feeling of fatigue began to come over me. It passed quickly that first day, but I made note of it.

We finished our breakfast and headed for chemo. My radiation and chemo treatments were in separate buildings. So, we had to pick the car up from the valet and then drive it to another location to park in the garage. I knew that I had an anti-nausea medication waiting for me at the pharmacy, so we went to pick that up first and then headed upstairs. Chemo was on the top floor of this building and the view was spectacular! That day, I was wearing a special gift from my friend Lindsay. It was a shirt that said, “When you said ‘cocktail’ chemo is not exactly what I had in mind.”

They assigned me to a specific nurse on the right side of the open room, and let me choose which chair to sit in for the day. Due to my new forced habit of drinking water, I made sure to park myself close to a bathroom because I had to pee so much – and now that I would be receiving even more fluids over the next couple of hours, I knew I was going to be peeing even more. I asked for another one of those warm blankets that I had earlier in the day and the nurse was happy to supply one.

The nurse started the IV and we began the first hour of hydration. Andee and Kevin entertained me while we observed our new atmosphere.

The nurse I had was nice, but when the machine would start to beep that I was done with one bag and needed to start another one, she would take a really long time to get to me. I had also inquired about a prescription I had been notified about and asked to talk to a social worker. She never got the social worker for me, and it wasn’t until we were getting ready to leave that she finally went to find the pharmacist and ask about the prescription. Because of the delay with changing my IV bags, at this point, my total time at chemo had been almost four hours instead of three. We had made the mistake of not bringing any snacks that first day and I was “hangry”. I was also over waiting.

“Okay. I’m done. Let’s go.” I started to get off the recliner chair to grab my stuff.

“Sister, I think we need to wait for the pharmacist,” Andee said with a worried look on her face.

“We have been waiting forever. I have cancer. I don’t need to be waiting anymore,” I angrily whispered to her. “I have to go to the stupid pharmacy and pick up whatever extra prescription they signed me up for anyway. So, I can just talk to the pharmacist downstairs.” I was super annoyed that the nurse didn’t think to ask the pharmacist to come and talk to me during the four hours I had been sitting there. But then, as I was finishing my rant, the pharmacist walked up to us.

“Oops,” I thought in my head. “Now I am that rude entitled cancer patient.”

I smiled at him as he approached and he immediately apologized for the wait, causing me to believe he might have heard me and my big mouth.

Once he was done explaining that I had two different anti-nausea prescriptions, the one I received earlier and the one I would now need to pick up, we all headed back down to the pharmacy for a second time. When it was finally time to go home, I was happy that I wasn’t feeling any major symptoms yet – other than annoyance from waiting.

I didn’t start feeling nauseas until around 5:00pm that evening. I never threw up, but it was a weird feeling. The pills seemed to be helping though, and I even got a visit from Pal and Katie that first evening to cheer me up. Katie had tons of gifts she had arranged with our co-workers. I planned to show off the “F#$% Cancer” tote bag and socks they gave me at my next chemo appointment.

I had hoped that the next day would be much shorter, with just the radiation appointment on the schedule, but my body was not cooperating. I couldn’t force myself to have a bowel movement that morning. On Tuesdays, the radiation team would do a CT scan on top of the x-rays, so that the doctor could take a look at what was going on inside me. Tuesdays were also when I would meet one on one with Dr. Radiation. Since my bowel was obviously not empty though, I was told to walk around and wait for the urge to go. We wouldn’t be able to do the radiation treatment until that happened, because the line-up was wrong.

So, my Kevin walked around the hospital with me. He then waited when I went to the ladies room and yelled at my body, while attempting to push anything out of it. I realized then that Kevin and I were about to get a lot closer and learn a lot more about my pooping habits than I would have ever wanted. You know when you first start dating someone and you are so embarrassed to be in the bathroom too long or even have them know that, yes in fact, everybody poops, but not you? You are too perfect to poop. Well, the jig was up! Kevin now knew that I pooped. I had hid it from him for almost 15 years…and here we were.

My 9:00am appointment had turned into an 11:45am appointment. Lucky for me, I was with the most patient man in the world. He was fine that our morning turned into an afternoon, and afterwards, we decided to bug Pal to go eat lunch with us. I was still nauseas and could only eat a small salad, but I was happy that I wasn’t feeling worse.

The rest of my radiation appointments went smoothly that week. On Wednesday, Pal took me to Target so that I could get some soup and sunscreen. (I needed the sunscreen because my treatments would make me more sensitive to the sun.)

“What sunscreen do you and Erin use?” I asked him. There was a trip to Mexico where all the brown people came back with some sort of sun burn and Pal and Erin, the whitest couple in the group, returned more white…if that’s even possible. Pal grabbed the bottle and handed it to me. If they could survive Mexico on this stuff, then I could survive chemo using it.

I noticed that I was nauseas from 5:00pm onwards on Monday through Thursday. If I ate though, it helped with the nausea. So, the more nauseated I felt, the more I tried to eat. By then, I was already sick of drinking water. Andee was trying everything to make it more enjoyable for me, and we finally settled on using Crystal Light Pure to add some flavor. Dr. Radiation approved it during my meeting.

I started some light bleeding Tuesday that stopped on Friday. I had hoped that it was a sign that the cancer was already receiving a horrible, horrible death in the first week. Dr. Radiation said it was most likely a menstrual cycle though. Either way, Andee and I started to scream at the cancer during our car rides and would tell it to “get the hell out!” (She used a little more decorative language than I did.)

I would have more energy in the mornings before radiation, and then immediately following my appointments, I would become extremely fatigued. It got worse as the week progressed. I had warned our good friend Lori, who was my ride that first Friday, so that she wouldn’t worry too much if my chipper mood suddenly changed. Lucky for me though, it wasn’t as bad as I had thought it would be. So, since I still had energy after radiation, I asked her to take me to get my blood work done – and she was more than happy to do it. There was talk of a snow storm that Saturday. If we could avoid it, I didn’t want anyone to have to drive in the snow to pick me up and take me to get my blood drawn.

The lab results came back quickly and showed that my white blood cell count had already dropped, but I was still within normal range. Seeing there already was a dramatic drop from before chemo to after only one chemo treatment was a big warning that things were going to get harder.

After a full day of rest on Saturday, due to no doctor appointments and no needles, I took Kevin out for his birthday dinner. This year, his birthday landed on a Monday, which was his usual day off. Unfortunately, that was our new chemo day now. So, I tried really hard to get as many of his favorite people around us that Sunday evening and the following Monday. I had hoped to not get sick that Monday, but figured if I did, he would still have people to celebrate with and all would be well.

The group rallied! We had a great dinner at one of Kevin’s favorite pizza places that Sunday. Erin, who had school on Monday evenings, even met us at chemo that Monday. I got an awesome nurse that day and she had us in and out right at three hours. Afterwards, Erin then went to lunch with us at one of Kevin’s favorite sandwich places. That night, Andee and Heath made a taco dinner complete with Spanish rice and birthday blueberry muffins! (Kevin is not a cake fan.) My nausea seemed to stay at bay for Kevin’s big day. Unfortunately, it caught up with me that Tuesday though.

I began to notice a trend for Tuesdays. I couldn’t seem to make myself poop the day after chemo. Dr. Radiation said that I should start using Miralax on Monday nights to help. On this Tuesday, when they came in and told me that it looked like I needed to poop, I told them that it was not possible.

“I really don’t feel like I have to poop. So, I am going to need some sort of help.” About ten minutes later, I was in a private bathroom with my first self-enema purchase. Kevin, again, waited patiently for me.

The rest of the week’s appointments went off without a hitch. I even got the good news that my co-worker and friend who had ovarian cancer was now in remission. I was ecstatic – for her and for future me! The dream was real and possible. I just had to get through it.

Pal was able to take me to get my blood work done that Friday. I was happy to have a Saturday again with no one poking me. But, the results showed that my white blood cell count had gone down quite a bit. Andee and I decided that from that point on, I would need to get my blood drawn on Saturdays instead of Fridays. As nice as it was to not have to go to a hospital on the weekend to get a needle, my body needed one more day of resting to show the doctors that I was still good for chemo. The last thing I wanted was for my treatment to be postponed. I needed this to be over with as quickly as possible.

Andee, Heath, and Pal came over often that second week. Andee and Heath even stayed the night that Saturday, and brought over gifts of guacamole and lasagna. Katie and my friend Latrice made an appearance too. That Sunday turned into a lazy movie day with the gang. Erin dropped off cookies with Pal to make it even more perfect. Kevin even got off at a decent time and we all got to eat a Chicago pizza together.

I was surrounded by my loved ones as much as possible. I was fatigued and fighting constant nausea, but I was able to keep it at bay with the meds and I was so happy to have my people around me. Our group was finding a weird groove with my hospital visits and was helping make the weekends count.

Kevin put some movies on his phone for our third chemo appointment. My cousin Mando had sent me a LA Kings shirt that said “LA Kings F Cancer”. The funniest part about the gift is that I am a Chicago Blackhawks fan. I praised him for finding a way to get me to wear an LA Kings shirt, and I was touched that he was thinking of me during this time.

Pal always knew where to find us on Mondays for his lunch breaks. He helped break up the day a little for us, so that three hours didn’t feel as long. Before the nausea hit, I wanted to go out to lunch with Kevin. On this third day of chemo, it was snowing beautifully in Denver. I wanted to watch it through a window, with a cup of tea and Kevin beside me. I wanted to feel somewhat normal when the moments would allow it.

My third radiation Tuesday, I was finally able to pass my CT scan. Kevin and I ran into a gentleman that we had met at chemo class. He was on the same chemo as me, but he had throat cancer. He informed me that everything had started to taste like cardboard for him. I was so thankful that I was still tasting all my food. So, I asked Kevin to take me to get a burger after radiation that day. I had already been hyper aware of all the food that I was able to eat and how great it tasted. Now I was even more aware…uber aware you could say.

By week three, I was getting sick of the routine. Andee described it best, saying it was like a horror story version of the movie Groundhog’s Day. Every day, I had to get up and go to the hospital. It was starting to annoy me. I was losing so much energy. I now had to always go home after radiation and rest…with little energy for anything else.

I had previously told those closest to me that I wanted to learn the guitar. My friends that visited right before I started treatment had even sent me one! My dad had also sent me a collection of DVDs to learn from, but only two weeks into learning, the fatigue had made it impossible to continue. I was trying to find something positive out of being stuck in my house and going through all of this, but it was slowly being taken from me.

Kevin had purchased concert tickets for one of our favorite local bands. It was an acoustic show with less than thirty people, so I was hopeful that I could make it – especially since I could sit down during the show. In preparation, I rested after my appointments on both Wednesday and Thursday. When the show was over, I turned to Kevin and let him know that I needed to get home pretty soon. The exhaustion was hitting me. I was beginning to feel the end of going out was near – even for low key events. But, I wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

That Friday night, I wanted to meet Andee and Heath before they went to see a movie. (The week before, I had already come to terms with the fact that I couldn’t go out for an entire movie.) Kevin drove me to see them at the bar next to the theatre. Erin and Pal had considered meeting us too. But, they ended up having to cancel because Erin felt like she might be getting a cold and she didn’t want to get me sick. (We actually had to quarantine both her and Pal for a few days, since there was a good chance Pal would catch the cold with her.)

About an hour and a half later, Kevin and I were in the grocery store getting supplies for my fasting days that were quickly approaching. That was when the week caught up to me. I ran through the store to find a bathroom. My body was not happy that I was trying to be out and about anymore, and it had retaliated with diarrhea. Luckily, I was able to make it home without any embarrassing incidents. But, I was up numerous times throughout the night.

That Saturday, I had a visit scheduled with my friend Sydney that I had to cancel. Andee and Heath took me to get my blood work done, but the lab I had been going to on Fridays turned out to be closed now on Saturdays. They drove me around for a bit to find one that was open for me. The bad thing was that we had to find another lab. But the good thing was that the girl was a lot gentler than the one who previously took my blood on the last two Fridays. That other girl seemed to use the biggest needle she could find, which resulted in my arm feeling like the needle was still there for a few hours afterwards. It was a super weird feeling and I just figured I was being a baby. The girl at this new location though used a much smaller needle on me. I was so relieved to know there was an alternative.

It was on this day that I had to finally surrender and say goodbye to most outings. Andee and Heath took me for lunch with them (a casual Saturday activity for most people), but I realized they had to leave earlier than they were used to because of me. I was exhausted and the previous night did not help. Even something as simple as sitting at a table was draining to me. Although I tried to hide it, it was obvious. I was not the same person I was even a few weeks ago.

When I got home, I went straight to bed. I was worried about how exhausted I was regularly feeling now. I was sad about missing out on movies and outings and life in general. Every outing with Kevin resulted in me turning to him and telling him that I wasn’t feeling good, or that I was really tired. The memories of them ran through my mind. I felt like Kevin was missing out on life because of me. I was having to hide from Pal and Erin because of something as simple as a cold, and they had missed out on Friday night because of my low white blood cells. Andee and Heath had to cut their lunch short because of me…I couldn’t even eat lunch like a normal person. My super positive outlook was slowly getting sucked out of me. The fatigue and energy drain caused by the radiation and chemo was finally starting to affect me emotionally.

I was about to go into a very big week – Week 4. I needed to start fasting for my first brachytherapy radiation surgery. This was the week I had been dreading. It was going to be a very busy and long one. I had warned Andee and Kevin that I was unsure how I would handle it.

Sunday – Fasting

Monday – Brachytherapy #1

Tuesday – Radiation and Chemo

Wednesday – Radiation and Fasting

Thursday – Brachytherapy #2

Friday – Radiation

Saturday – Blood work

The only thing holding me back from completely freaking out was that I had a friend coming to visit once it was all said and done. Our friend Libby was flying down that Thursday to go to a couple of appointments with me. I felt special. I had something to look forward to…this week was going to suck, but I had a reward at the end of it.

Libby was our friend Adam’s amazing mom. We loved Libby and Tim, Adam’s parents, like they were our own family. We had the honor of traveling with them to Europe not once, but twice. When I told Adam that I had cancer, I received a call from Libby almost immediately offering their support. Adam and his girlfriend Kayla were also one of my visitors that first week after my surgery, and he made sure to let me know that he and his family were there for me if I needed anything. Just knowing they were there for me from afar made me happy, but now Libby was stopping everything to fly in and go to radiation and chemo with me. I was ecstatic to see my friend and super thankful for the timing.

“Hold it together Maria,” I thought to myself as I felt the exhaustion creep up on me. “You be strong and hold it together and you will be rewarded.”

Part X – Shit Happens (April 9, 2018)

Week 4 was one of the hardest weeks of my entire life. I do not say this lightly and I want to warn you that I am going to get pretty graphic with some of the details when it comes to the brachytherapy treatments. This was the week I had feared. This was when I officially became a cancer victim.

Before I went into treatment, I had a couple of phone calls from my Uncle Rudy. He is a cancer survivor and offered me one of the best pieces of advice I had ever been given. I just didn’t know it at the time. Old me was naïve and innocent to what cancer treatment can do to you.

“No matter what happens mija, NEVER STOP FIGHTING. You hear me? You never ever stop fighting.”

“Don’t worry Uncle. I will not stop.” I said it so easily…so sure that I would never need to be reminded of these words. Of course it was obvious that I would never stop. The alternative was not an option…right?

It took me four weeks to truly understand what my uncle was telling me on those phone calls. At the end of each one, he refused to let me say “Goodbye”. He said that he never ended his phone calls with “Goodbye”.

About a week later, I got some really good advice from his son – my cousin. We all loving call him JJ. He was one of my favorite cousins growing up, because he never ignored me. I was that awkward cousin that wasn’t old enough to hang out with the older cousins, but not young enough for them to have to keep an eye on me or for the grown-ups to ooh and aww over. JJ always included me though when he and my brothers would play. I was never bored if JJ was around.

I had asked JJ for advice on how to help those around me who don’t have cancer, but who want to help. He was there when his dad was hurting and going through treatment and I wanted to know how I could help Andee from being too stressed or worried.

“Tell her what you want every time she asks you, because it is a lot easier when she knows exactly what you want and need. Don’t worry about being picky either. If she knows, then she can’t worry.” Right after I got his advice, I called Andee and told her that I wanted guacamole. She showed up as soon as she could with all of the ingredients needed to satisfy the craving I had been trying to ignore for days. I remember eating it and thinking JJ was a genius.

As I prepared to go into Week 4, I had a lot of different thoughts going through my mind. The first and foremost, was that fasting sucked and bowel preps sucked even more.

Preparation for Brachytherapy Treatment #1:

• I was allowed to take my pills per usual. They added an antibiotic I needed to take twice a day starting the day before the first brachy, to five days past the last one.
• At 12:00pm the day before, I needed to drink half a bottle of magnesium citrate.
• At 2:00pm the day before, I needed to drink the other half of the magnesium citrate.
• I could only eat chicken broth or beef broth.
• I needed to drink plenty of water, but could also enjoy ginger ale.
• The morning of my surgery, I needed to drink 12 ounces of apple juice two hours before being at the hospital. (They treated the brachy like a surgery.)
• The morning of my surgery, I also needed to do a self-enema.

Sunday – Fasting

I sent a video to the Denver crew when I started drinking the magnesium citrate. I joked that I was going to get drunk off the 0.003% alcohol that was in it. I even put it in a shot glass to make my video have more effect. Pal pointed out that I would not be joking once the magnesium citrate took effect and I was pooping my brains out. I stupidly said that I was so happy to be drinking something other than water, that I would gladly take the pooping. Later, this would be something I regretted saying.

Andee came over to visit me and, in an act of solidarity, brought her own ginger ale and Ramen Noodle soup. I was able to drink the broth from her soup which was a godsend, since the organic chicken broth that Kevin and I had purchased at the store a couple of days before (while avoiding an embarrassing diarrhea episode) had proven to taste like nothing.

We were enjoying each other’s company and watching girl shows when the magnesium citrate kicked in. It was around 5:00pm. From that point on, I had to stay close to the bathroom and be ready to bolt at any moment. I could not believe the amount of poop that was coming out of me. Every time I went to the restroom, I would think, “Well that has to be it. I must be out of poop for sure!” But I never was. I was up constantly through the night. I later told Andee that I must be pooping stuff I ate in kindergarten. To which she replied, “Did you see a crayon in there?”

“Nope, but I was never a crayon eater. I was more into homemade clay,” I joked with her. “I didn’t see that either, but who knows what that stuff turns into after so many years.”

I thought that if I had any more chicken broth, it would cause me to poop more. So, I vowed I would not have any of it for the next rounds.

Monday – Brachy #1

By the time I got to the enema, it felt like I had nothing left inside of me.

Kevin and I had to check in for surgery at 5:30am, but the surgery itself wasn’t scheduled until 7:30am. The surgical waiting area was packed. It was like the airport before it opens, where everyone looks anxious and mostly ready for their personal trips. The dark circles under everyone’s eyes let me know that they had little sleep as well. It wasn’t until a few minutes past 6:00am that they came to escort us to the pre-op area. In that small time span, I had to poop again. On my way to the bathroom, I read a sign that said to make sure to check in with the front desk before going. Since I already had checked in, I figured I was in the clear to purge whatever was left of the regretted homemade clay from school.

They weighed me before going to the back. In one day, I had lost 4 pounds of poop. I’m sure I was dehydrated as well. Kevin took note of the weight loss too. I hadn’t noticed that he was keeping track of my weight until then.

Once we got to the pre-op area and I had changed into a surgical gown, the nurse asked me to pee in a cup.

“Uh oh…I just went while I was waiting. I’m not gonna lie to you. I doubt I have anything left in me at this point. This isn’t for another pregnancy test is it?”

“Yes, it is. We have a sign on the door that says not to go in there if you are having surgery.” She was not familiar with the ways of magnesium citrate and obviously annoyed that I couldn’t hold it in.

“Oh yes. The sign. I read that sign and it just said to check in with the front desk, which I already had done. Plus, I couldn’t hold anything at this point even if I wanted to. So, I’m sorry that I’m not going to be able to pee in that cup. Not that it matters, but you guys know that I have no tubes and no way of being pregnant right?” I mean, how many pregnancy tests can a tubeless woman take before people start believing her?!?!?!

“We really need to be absolutely certain that you are not pregnant before we proceed. Even if you have no tubes, there is still a chance.”

So they had to settle for blood. I was surprised the nurse went for the same vein I had chemo in the week before. It blew of course. So, she had another nurse come in and find a vein for her. The other nurse I happened to remember from my surgery back in January. I had the “I’m not pregnant” talk with her back then too, but was happy she was better at finding a vein.

Right before the surgery, Dr. Radiation and the current anesthesiologist came into the room.

“Are they seriously making you still take pregnancy tests?” Dr. Radiation was looking at my chart amazed. Kevin and I laughed along with him and it helped me relax a little. I was terrified.

I wasn’t terrified about the hands my life was in. I had met a different doctor the week before, when Dr. Radiation was at jury duty. (Yes, even curing cancer cannot get you out of jury duty.) He had informed me that Dr. Radiation was the second best in the brachytherapy field. The only reason he wasn’t the first, was because the man he studied under was still alive and he was the father/inventor of brachytherapy. Dr. Radiation had studied under the founder with a fellowship. He was incredible. I was in the safest hands a person in my situation could ask for.

I knew I was going to need a spinal block, and I was terrified of the needle that would go into my spine. I had no idea what that was going to feel like, but I feared the worst. I had prayed over it with a prayer shawl and rosary that Andee’s best friend’s mom had made for me. I am not Catholic, but I was taught how to pray with the rosary by my pregnant friend who had visited before I started my treatments. I understand now why people pray with a rosary. I found that the shawl and rosary had comforted me and eased my nerves. I was so thankful for every prayer that someone had offered and the positive vibes sent my way. But while waiting there in the room, preparing to go back, I was terrified. I let Dr. Radiation and the new anesthesiologist know.

I was in a room with three men – Kevin, Dr. Radiation, and the new (no personality) anesthesiologist. They all reacted the same way. They did not give me the chance to freak out.

“Don’t be worried. You are only fearing the unknown. After this treatment is done, you will find that your nerves will be much better the next time we do it. Soon, this will be a simple routine.” Dr. Radiation was so calm. So, I tried to take that in and avoid looking hysterical in front of him.

“I’m a little nervous about the spinal block wearing off too soon as well. During the LEEP procedure, they told me that my metabolism works pretty quickly and that was why I was able to feel so much. I just don’t ever want to experience that ever again,” I said it in the calmest voice I could muster.

“We will keep a close eye on that for you. We don’t want that either,” Dr. Radiation calmly explained. “This first time around, we will learn a lot about how your body handles everything and will make sure to adjust anything if need be.”

It was time to go back. I kissed Kevin and told him I loved him. Then away I went.

Once in the room, I saw that there was a CT scan. They were going to do a CT scan once all of the instruments were placed, in order to make sure that everything was lined up correctly. I would be asleep through that though. I also saw my friend who gave me the radiation tattoos. It was so nice to see a friendly face. I smiled at him and told him just that…from here on out, I will simply call him Dr. Tattoo. I’m not quite sure what his title was, but he was a constant through my brachy treatments and I got the sense that he was Dr. Radiation’s second in command.

They had me move to the other table. I sat up on it with Dr. Radiation standing in front of me. He handed me a pillow to hug. “Oh no…a pillow to hug means that this is going to be bad,” I thought to myself. Dr. Radiation held onto my shoulders while I hugged the pillow and told me that everything was going to be fine.

Although the new anesthesiologist had no personality whatsoever, he knew how to work a needle. He pushed on the spot he wanted me to push back against and administered the numbing agent, closely followed by the spinal block. I felt nothing other than him pushing against me with his finger.

“That was it?!” I kept waiting for them to tell me that they had to put another needle in me.

“All done. That was it.” Everyone in the room seemed pleased that I had no idea it would be that easy.

“Oh man! All that worrying and stress and freaking out and in the end I felt nothing!” I started to laugh and the weight of the world fell off my shoulders. “I’m so sorry I put you through that!” I looked at Dr. Radiation. He just smiled and then began to help pull my legs onto the table and lay me down. I could then sense the loss of some feeling in my legs.

The last thing I remember in this room was the new anesthesiologist asking me if I was still awake. He asked me three times and seemed surprised every time I told him yes. I fell asleep after that, so I’m not sure if he asked a fourth time.

Two hours later, I was told it was time to wake up. I was then being escorted to the post-op room by a friendly nurse. My legs were up in the air, but covered. I couldn’t really feel anything, so I was happy. If people were getting a show at this point, I really didn’t care. All I cared about was not feeling the instruments inside of me.

I asked the nurse how she was doing and all about her job. She laughed and said that I was the most awake person she had ever met so soon after a procedure. She asked if I could feel her touching me and I said I felt pressure. She showed me that she was actually touching me with a pack of ice. I couldn’t feel the ice, so that meant I was still numb – which was good. Then, she escorted me to the elevator that would take me to the radiation area I knew so well. I told her how weird it was that I could see my legs were up in air, but instead they felt like they were bent at the knees with my feet on the bed. She let me know that the reason they felt like that was because I was sitting up when they gave me the spinal block. So, my brain still thought they were in that position. Science is so cool sometimes!

They placed me in a room and brought Kevin in to hang out with me and my elevated legs, while we waited for the radiation process to begin.  I told Kevin all about the painless shot and how relieved I was to not be feeling anything. I was in high spirits. I was making it through this scary process and felt nothing down there. Dr. Tattoo came in and checked that everything they had done during surgery was still holding up well after they had moved me.

It was in this room that I was introduced to my favorite nurse. I will call her Nurse Angel, since I will be referencing her often. Nurse Angel worked for the radiation department and I had seen her around. She was the one that would be by my side during my brachy treatments. She observed my vitals and made sure that I was fine. She also gave Kevin a menu to read to me so that I could eat some lunch once everything was done. FOOD!!!! I was so ready to eat. I knew just what I wanted too. Pasta. I had dreamt about pasta during the little bit of time I had slept the night before.

We waited about an hour until they came to get me for the radiation part of the procedure. I found out later that during this time, Dr. Radiation and Dr. Tattoo were checking their measurements and math to make sure that everything was perfect. They were also cross referencing with another doctor who was located in another state.

They wheeled my bed, IV, and the machine that was monitoring my vitals into a large, open radiation room. While they hooked me up, Nurse Angel stayed by my side and distracted me with stories and questions. (I actually never got a good look at what they were hooking me up to. It wasn’t a big machine though, like in the other radiation room.) There was also a man that would come in and check that I wasn’t giving off any radiation from my body. He used a small gadget that reminded me of something out of the Ghostbusters movies.

Nurse Angel and Dr. Tattoo asked me what kind of music I would like to listen to while they gave the radiation. I told them that I liked alternative music – my favorite bands being Pearl Jam, Counting Crows, etc. Dr. Tattoo found a Red Hot Chili Peppers CD and began playing that for me. Dr. Radiation finished hooking me up and then everyone told me it was time. While they escorted themselves out, Nurse Angel told me that she would be able to see and talk to me even though they would be in a different room.

Her voice was then speaking over the intercom. She let me know that we would be going for a little over 6 minutes. This surprised me. All of this for only six minutes? It must be some killer six minutes. I had actually assumed it would be around 20 minutes.

I could hear the machine hum once the radiation began. I felt a small vibration down there, but nothing that hurt. It reminded me of feeling the pressure on my legs from the ice, but not knowing it was ice. Before I knew it, the six minutes were up.

Everyone came back into the room. Nurse Angel came right to my side and talked to me while Dr. Radiation removed the instruments inside of me. The Ghostbusters guy came in and checked one more time to see if I was something to fear. I was not. Dr. Tattoo helped get my legs down and began helping Nurse Angel move me back to the room.

“You didn’t want me to show any more people my vagina?” I jokingly asked Dr. Tattoo. He laughed while I continued, “I must say it is a show to be seen. You would be amazed at how many people have asked to see the show since this all started.”

I’m so happy my radiation team understood my sick sense of humor.

While I was in the radiation room, I had begun to be able to wiggle my right toes. By the time I was back in the room with Kevin, I had started to be able to feel both feet. It appeared that the feeling started coming back to my toes first, and would then move upwards – with my butt being the last thing to regain feeling. I hung out with Kevin while the feeling continued to spread.

After a while, Nurse Angel came back and had someone to assist her. She asked Kevin to leave the room while they helped me get into a seat so that I could eat my lunch. I thought it was weird that they asked Kevin to leave, but figured they were just making sure I didn’t fall and worry him. They closed the door behind him and both Nurse Angel and her assistant started to put gloves on.

“Okay Maria. We are going to help you get up, but we need you to roll away from us towards the wall.”

It was strange to me that they were putting on gloves, but I was so happy to be eating soon and feeling good. I said okay and started to wiggle my body so I could roll over. I was still regaining feeling though, so this proved to be a little difficult. Finally, I was able to move onto my side.

I realized what was happening way after the nurses did….I was crapping myself!!!

“OH MY GOD!!!” I started laughing because although I knew I was pooping, I couldn’t control it or feel it. What should have been terribly embarrassing was actually hilarious. It felt like I was watching someone else’s butt letting stuff out.

“HOW THE HECK DO I HAVE ANY MORE POOP IN ME?!”

The nurses were on it. Not only did they have the gloves and wipes ready, but they had one of those pads in place to protect the bed and the sheets underneath me. It had been there the entire time. Luckily, from what I could tell, this was the first time I had used the pad to my advantage though. Good to know surgery went smoothly…at least, I hope it had.

“Oh jeez! This is so stupid. I am so, so sorry!!!” I was a grown woman who had crapped herself for the first time. Just when I thought I had been through it all…

“Don’t apologize. This is completely normal. They make you do that bowel prep and then numb you from the waist down. We are nurses and are so used to dealing with this sort of stuff.” They didn’t seem phased in the slightest. They were so nice and efficient. I was cleaned up quickly.

As I continued to apologize profusely to Nurse Angel and her assistant, they helped me out of the bed and moved me to a chair where I was about to finally eat some pasta! They had already put a pad on it, so I was scared I would crap again, but at least I knew that I wouldn’t ruin anything. I was really glad that Kevin hadn’t seen anything. They covered me with blankets and made sure I was super comfortable before letting Kevin back in the room.

“Kevin! I pooped myself!” I said it as soon as I saw him and laughed. The assistant nurse laughed with me as she left the room, as I’m sure my no filter attitude shocked her. I filled Kevin in on all of the gory details while I ate my pasta and started to feel normal again. I was exhausted, but so happy to be through the first brachy. Dr. Radiation had been right in that I was afraid of the unknown. I knew I could get through the other treatments now and didn’t fear the spinal block any more.

After I was done eating, Nurse Angel and her assistant came back to see if I could walk. I had full feeling of my legs by this point. They asked Kevin to leave the room again.

“Hopefully, I didn’t crap myself again. I’m so sorry I did that!” I couldn’t tell them that enough. They told me to stop worrying about it and helped me up. I was happy to see that the pad on the chair was being wasted and not necessary. I still had the catheter in, so I had to be careful with that, but I was able to walk around just fine without any help.

While we walked down the hall, we ran into Dr. Radiation. They were all super proud of me for being able to walk so soon. He said he would see me the next morning after my radiation appointment.

I was escorted back to my room, where I was given a giant pad and my clothes. Nurse Angel then told me to sit down so that she could take the catheter out.

“Is it going to hurt?” I asked her. I hadn’t thought to fear this step yet.

“No.” She was so certain that I felt no fear. She let the air out of the catheter and quickly pulled it right out, without even needing to look. It was nice not to have to show my parts again. She did warn me that for a little while, it might sting when I peed. So, I would need to drink lots of water to help with that.

I got dressed while Kevin went to get the car. Nurse Angel then walked with me to the front of the building. Kevin picked me up and away we went.

One brachy down…three to go.

When we got home, Kevin crashed. He had been up since 5:00am and we didn’t get home until around 2:00pm. I called Andee and my mom and let them both know that I pooped myself. Let’s face it, it was a hilarious story. Then it was my turn to crash out too.

Peeing hurt a lot! There is nothing like the fear of pain while peeing to make someone drink water. I drank as much as I could and the pain went away by the time my 9:00am radiation appointment came around. My back was a little sensitive from the shot, but it didn’t hurt. It just felt tender in that area.

Tuesday – Radiation and Chemo

That morning, Andee came to pick up me and Kevin for our many appointments. I needed radiation, had to meet with Dr.Radiation, had to meet with Dr. Chemo, and had to go to chemo all in one day. I was tired from the previous two days of fasting and surgery, but was trying to stay in good spirits.

Radiation went smoothly. I passed my CT exam and Dr. Radiation was happy with how things had gone the day before. I had already gained all the weight back that I had lost from my grand pooping episodes. After this, I will now never be one of those people who tries cleanses to lose weight. Not that I was one before though. I have always loved food way too much to try and fast the weight away.

Andee drove me and Kevin over to the other building to meet with Dr. Chemo. I warned Andee and Kevin that I would be discussing a new symptom with him. It actually was one that I didn’t realize was a symptom for a few days. I wanted to make sure they knew I wasn’t hiding anything from them.

“You know the old saying that if your ears are ringing then someone is talking about you? Well, I just thought someone was talking about me every day last week. It wasn’t painful and it lasted less than 30 seconds, but someone was talking about me a few times a day this week. So, that is when I realized I was actually having a chemo symptom,” I explained to all of them.

“What you are describing is a Stage 1 on the symptoms list,” explained Dr. Chemo. “Keep us posted if the ringing is longer, more frequent, or louder. There is potential for hearing loss if it gets worse. For now, I wouldn’t worry about it, but we need to keep an eye on it.”

Dr. Chemo then asked the question I had been avoiding.

“Has Dr. Radiation told you when the end of your treatment is going to be?”

I didn’t want to hear that I would need more radiation treatments than I had mentally planned on. As it was, I had assumed that I needed to go to radiation until March 27th. I was basing this on our first meeting, when Dr. Radiation told me how many external radiation treatments I would need. March 27th was still a long way away from my point of view, and I couldn’t stand the thought that it might end up being longer. Also, if I needed extra radiation, I knew that would mean I would need extra chemo. I could tell that my veins were suffering from the chemo. I was terrified that they would be forced to give me a port…which would mean another surgery.

My body was tired. I was mentally exhausted. I couldn’t handle the news. So, I never asked the question. I just ignored it. Andee had asked me a couple of times, so I told her that I hadn’t heard anything about it yet. I didn’t want to worry her by telling her that I might actually turn into the Hulk if I heard anything other than March 27th as an end date.

“He has not,” I told Dr. Chemo. “From what I understand, I think my treatment will end by March 27th. This is just me guessing. Do I need more chemo to go along with the radiation? With my estimate, I would have an extra week of radiation and I’m currently not scheduled for chemo that week. I only need six chemo treatments – right?”

Dr. Chemo then explained that the chemo and the radiation work together. The radiation needs the chemo in order to get the best results.

“I’m going to call Dr. Radiation today and see what he has planned for you. You need to have a concrete end date. It will help with all that you are going through.” Dr. Chemo was so gentle with his words. I really liked him…especially in that moment. He was right. I needed to know when this would all be over.

He did a quick exam and asked if I was having any other symptoms. Nausea and fatigue were the constant issue. The pills for the nausea were still helping though, as well as eating.

I had no mouth sores, but he said he noticed a pattern on my tongue that he has seen in other patients right before mouth sores began. He told me to be extra diligent in brushing my teeth. I was using a new electric toothbrush. I would brush with baking soda and the special toothpaste my brother Ray had sent me. I would then rinse with the biotin rinse. After this appointment, I added rinsing with baking soda and brushing my tongue to the routine.

Next, it was time for my chemo appointment. We went to the special room and got seats on my favorite side. I warned my nurses that I noticed during brachy the day before that my veins were getting harder to poke. They seemed unsurprised and said that they would do their best. They told me not to worry.

Then the nurse tried to get a vein. She said it went into hiding after she dug around in my left arm for a couple of minutes. She went to get another nurse.

The second nurse poked the same arm and it seemed like she got in, but the vein popped as she tried to release the IV fluid. I could tell that she felt really bad for popping a vein. She then asked a simple question.

“Have your veins always been so small and fragile?” she said with big polite blue eyes. She was a really nice nurse and I know that she meant nothing by the question.

It was my response that finally did me in though.

“Nothing about my body is the way it has always been. Everything is different since this all began.”

And before I knew it, I started to cry.

I started to cry in front of the nice nurses, Andee, and Kevin. I started to cry in front of a room filled with other cancer patients. I started to cry and I couldn’t stop it! I was so mad at my veins and my body. I was freaking out. I was seeing all of the needles that I had to endure up to this point. I was scared they would tell me I needed to get a port with only three more chemos to go…at least, three more that I was aware of. I was tired of being poked! I was tired of my body betraying me and forcing them to poke me multiple times for one session of chemo. I was even poked twice for the brachy and I still needed three more of those!

While I kept crying, since I couldn’t stop the stupid tears, they warmed up both of my arms to try and make my veins more visible. I was sitting there with my arms out and heating pads wrapped around them, so I couldn’t wipe my tears away. Andee was sweet enough to wipe them for me when she could, but they constantly kept coming. Then, the social worker I had met the week before came by.

“Nothing about this is normal Maria. You are allowed to feel this moment and cry. Your arms being out and wrapped like this…no one would be happy to be in this situation. I got to say, I feel better seeing you cry. It would be scary if you were all jokes and smiles all the time. That is not normal. Please know we are all here for you. If you want to cry and scream and kick things, we all are fine with that and expect it. Let me know if you want to meet with me okay?” I thanked him for his words and his kindness. Finally, the tears began to stop flowing.

It was nurse #3’s turn. She went for the left arm and found a vein she liked. Then she quickly went for it and we were back in business! The relief was undeniable.

To top it all off, Dr. Chemo came up to us with some incredible news. Dr. Radiation had set the date for my last appointment. It would be March 20^th – an entire week earlier than I had been guessing!!! I was only going to need six chemo treatments total!!! He was right. I did need to know the end date. I had an end date insight and now felt like I could handle them poking me two more times for chemo. His timing was impeccable.

Andee and Kevin entertained me while I continued to get a grip on myself. Pal came by during his lunch hour and I told him that he missed my melt down. He was just as understanding as everyone else had been. Finally, after about 4 hours (because of my delayed veins), it was time to leave.

When I got home and settled in, I reached out to my dad. My Uncle Davy was in the hospital. He was very sick. He had been diagnosed with stage 4 metastatic cancer about a year earlier. My Uncle Davy had told them he didn’t want any more needles for this hospital visit. Something I was now all too familiar with…

My cousin, Uncle Davy’s daughter, had reached out to all of the cousins to let us know that he wasn’t doing well. She recommended we call and say our goodbyes. I hadn’t been able to reach out until all of my stupid treatments were done though.

My dad let me know that my uncle was not going to make it through the night. He said he couldn’t talk at this point and recommended that I send a video telling him how much I loved him. I got off the phone with my dad at 5:20pm. I sent the video by 5:23pm. By 6:00pm, my dad let the family know that my uncle…my beautiful, charismatic uncle, had passed away. He didn’t get to see my video. I was too late.

My Uncle Davy made everything brighter. He was the funniest uncle. When I was a little girl, he and his family would often visit us. I would run up to him and demand a different cartoon voice and he would immediately comply. He was able to impersonate Roger Rabbit and pretty much every Loony Tunes character, among many other things. Loony Tunes was my favorite though. He always knew how to make me laugh.

As I got older, I was always a little sensitive about my height of 4’11. I got to see my Uncle Davy around the time I was turning 25. He came up to me and Kevin and told me that I was his “little Plutonium”.

“Do you know why you are plutonium Maria?” he asked me with a smile. “Because even though you are small, you have the most explosive personality. No one, no matter their size, will ever be as explosive as my little Plutonium.” I never felt bad about my height after that. My uncle had solved my issues with one comment.  He helped make me into the woman I am today.

My heart was broken. I wasn’t able to say goodbye to my uncle, because I was dealing with cancer. I would not be able to go to his funeral, because I was dealing with cancer. My uncle was taken away from me, because of cancer. Cancer had taken over everything. I was a cancer victim. Too many of us had become cancer’s victims. I couldn’t imagine the pain that his family was going through. He left behind my Auntie Carmen and my two beautiful cousins, Crystal and Jeanette. They had given him four cute grandchildren between the two of them.

I could physically feel that he was missing from the world. The world was never going to be the same without him.

I held Kevin’s hand while I cried. I was so exhausted. I told Kevin that in the time I had started treatment, I had seen one friend go into remission but had lost my amazing uncle. I had no idea where my story was going. I wish I could have been there for him. I already missed him so much.

My Uncle Rudy’s words echoed in my head, “No matter what happens mija, NEVER STOP FIGHTING. You hear me? You never ever stop fighting.” But I wanted to. I wanted to stop so badly. What was the point of all this pain, if cancer could still take you in the end? The only thing that kept me going was my family. The pain my cousins and aunt were going through, the pain we all were going through….I couldn’t give up just yet. I needed to keep going for them and for all my family suffering from this loss. I needed to keep going for my Uncle Davy and to get revenge on cancer for taking him from us.

Wednesday – Radiation and Fasting

Pal was my ride to radiation the next day. He usually brought me food of some sort, but I needed to cleanse for my second brachy appointment on Thursday.

The chemo was doing its job and making me super nauseated. My usual trick of eating to push the nausea to the side was not an option though. So, I was left feeling really sick.

Pal stayed by my side all day, which was good because I was having a harder time these days. We watched several horror movies, our favorite category, to pass the time. I fell asleep a few times from the fatigue. Every time I apologized, Pal would just wave me off and say he was fine if I fell asleep.

I took my medicine at 12:00pm and again at 2:00pm. Then I prepared for the worst. I avoided drinking any chicken broth or beef broth. Since I only had about a day and a half to eat anything after the last brachy, this round went a little smoother. Smoother in that less crap came out of me, but the nausea was horrible.

Thursday – Brachy #2

The enema was not happening on this day. My butt refused. It was so sore and tender from all of the crapping I had done that it was impossible. I tried for about 30 minutes before finally giving up. There wasn’t much for it to do anyway. Plus, the constant poking at my butt did not help my nausea.

Andee was my escort to the hospital, which we again needed to be at by 5:30am. She had let me know that she had a special shirt for me to wear. She always knew when I needed something special to look forward to. I was also excited that our friend Libby was arriving later that day. I wouldn’t get to see her, but I knew if I could just make it through the next few hours, life would be better for a few days.

The check in for surgery wasn’t as busy as Monday, so we didn’t have to wait as long. I didn’t lose as much weight as the last time, which let me know that I did better on my water intake and was staying hydrated.

I had been up a lot the night before, worrying about them finding a vein for this round of IV’s. Lucky for me though, I had the best nurse that day. She was not only good at finding a vein, but she numbed it first. I didn’t feel the tiny tube that was inserted into my vein at all. I was so relieved. I felt a little stupid for stressing out so much about the pain. “No mental breakdowns for me this morning,” I thought to myself.

I let them know that my nausea was pretty bad since I had been unable to eat. For every brachy, they gave me anti-nausea and antibiotics on top of whatever else I was already taking.

Dr. Radiation let me know that I did indeed have a fast metabolism. He said the previous anesthesiologist was surprised about how much he needed to give me before I went under. So, Dr. Radiation said he would make sure to keep an eye on that for these next three brachy treatments. I think that because of this fact, they were now okay giving me something to make me loopy before I went into the operating room. They knew that I would still be able to sit up and do the spinal block, even with the loopy meds, because I wouldn’t knock out too quickly. I felt the numbing needle a little bit this time around, but it wasn’t painful. It simply let me know that not all of the anesthesiologists were as smooth as the last one I had.

Everything went just as well as it had on Monday. I woke up after about an hour. I was again talkative with the nurses in post-op, before they escorted me to the little room where I would see Nurse Angel and Andee. I felt really tired.

Dr. Radiation had previously decided that he didn’t like the CT scan in the OR room. So, he had me escorted to the CT scan in the radiation department. This was the same one where I met Dr. Tattoo. They woke me up a little earlier than the first time around and had me use the CT scan before they took me to meet Andee. When they moved me over to the table, it felt like it was hovering – like in “Back to the Future”. Since I was in such an awkward position, I never got to see exactly what was happening, but I enjoyed thinking of it in that way. The radiation CT scanner was definitely cooler than the OR CT scan for that hover board table alone!

I was really happy to see Andee when I was done with the CT scan. She helped me pick out mac and cheese for my meal. The nurse even snuck her a rice crispy treat. She was very excited.

They played Nora Jones in the radiation room for me this time. I felt more than I did the first time. I was starting to be able to move my toes in both of my feet before they even started. Nothing was painful, but it made me a little nervous and I took note of it so that I could tell Dr. Radiation. The radiation lasted for a little over 7 minutes. I felt a small amount of pressure, while they removed one of the instruments that was inside of me. It wasn’t painful, but it scared me that I felt anything at all. Dr. Tattoo saw my face as Dr. Radiation was removing it and asked if I was okay. I let him know I was feeling some pressure, but that I was fine. I just made another mental note for next time. The fear of the LEEP procedure still haunted me.

When I was back in the room, I was proud that I didn’t crap on poor Nurse Angel or her helper! My nausea was manageable, but I was really tired. It turned out that having chemo and then fasting was definitely a game changer when it came to how I felt after a brachy treatment. Andee and I hung out while I ate, and even though I was tired, I was in good spirits.

Andee got me home safe and sound, but then had to leave so that she and Heath could meet Libby, Adam, and Kayla for dinner. I was so happy knowing that my friend was in town. For the first time though, I didn’t feel like I was missing out. I was too exhausted for a pity party. All I wanted to do was sleep, and so sleep I did.

I dreamt of feeling better and getting to spend the weekend at Andee’s house with our friend Libby…

I dreamt of a world with no cancer…

I dreamt of my Uncle Davy feeling no pain.

Part XI – The Marathon (April 28, 2018)

Andee and Libby arrived bright and early at 7:00am to take me to radiation. When Andee had to take me, she always arrived at 7:00am so that she could work from my house until we left around 8:15-8:30am. Then she would log back into work again when we got back from the doctors, which was usually between 9:30-10:00am. This way, she only had to use a couple of hours of paid time-off, rather than an entire day. I was stealing all of my sister’s vacation time with these various appointments. The days when she was my ride were nice though, because I had someone to chat with while I took all of my medicines, ate a piece of toast, and tried to hold down the Metamucil. Then I would excuse myself and go exchange my comfy, warm robe for some loose fitting pants and try and match them with whatever shirt I was in the mood for that day. The task of getting dressed sapped most of my energy for the entire day.

It was so great to see Libby! She was full of intoxicating energy and funny stories. We warned her on the car ride that she would see my energy level drastically drop after radiation was done, but not to worry. Even though it had been a long week, I was definitely ready to enjoy the weekend.

Radiation went smoothly. Andee stopped at a convenience store on the way home, so that she and Libby could grab some snacks. Since I was really nauseas and couldn’t hold down much during the week, I only had random stuff at my house that a healthier person wouldn’t really desire.

Andee would go shopping every week and find small things that I could keep down. Mashed potatoes and avocados were my favorite. I’ve always loved my carbs. It seems even when I’m nauseas, I love my carbs. I also enjoyed pudding, the occasional cup of Jello (good for the days I wanted to throw my water across the room), toast, and Spanish rice. Andee makes the best Spanish rice. She would make me small sides of it separated out into containers that would last me the entire week. She would also try other stuff and noticed immediately if I didn’t go for it. So, she would then show up with a whole bunch of new stuff the following week.

Once we got home, Libby and I headed for the basement to watch movies on our projector screen. I immediately turned it into “blanket heaven” and encouraged Libby to make herself comfortable. We got on a Melissa McCarthy kick while Andee worked away upstairs in the kitchen. Then, after a restful afternoon, it was time to pack up and head to Andee’s for the weekend.

Packing turned out to be a bit of a challenge. I had way too many “what-if” scenarios that I had to fit into one bag. What if I get diarrhea? What if I start to puke? What if I start to bleed so bad that I have to go to the ER? As I rolled my bag down the stairs, I could hear the jingle of many, many pill bottles.

Stout was also going with me and my medications. I needed my doggie companion and hated the thought of leaving her for the weekend. She had been my constant since I had surgery. Her 95 pounds of love had been following me around the house and taking every nap with me from the beginning. If I was having a bad day, I noticed that she would avoid her usual heavy fast stumble down the stairs and instead, took one step at a time with me so that I could grab onto her if need be – my dog on my left and the handrail on my right.

Stout was ecstatic once the leash was withdrawn from its hiding place. She knew that meant she was going to Resort de Aragon…a name I gave to Andee and Heath’s house which describes it exactly. Our little Stout needed a break from the routine as well.

Once safely at Andee’s, I went upstairs to take a small nap while Libby and Andee went grocery shopping to prepare for the feast that Libby was going to prepare for us. Adam and Kayla made a special appearance at dinner that evening and Kevin came to stay the night with me. He wanted to be there for me, in case I got sick during the night. Instead, it turned out that I needed to be there for him that evening.

Kevin is prone to kidney stones. A few years ago, he passed a few of them back to back. It was then that we learned an important lesson. He had to be more careful with his water and salt intake. We found out this evening that kidney stones were also caused by stress. After a long night, he finally fell into a deep sleep right before he needed to head into work. I reached out to his boss to explain the situation and they were extremely understanding. I hated that my illness had caused this much stress on him.

Later that morning, while Kevin slept, Andee took me to get my bloodwork for the week. One more needle before I could truly enjoy the weekend getaway. Andee pointed out that I would only need to get blood work one more time after this day. One….more…time….I started to cry at the possible glimpse into my future.

Pal came with delicious offerings of jalapeno poppers and guacamole. We all wanted to soak in the time we had with Libby as much as possible. She wasn’t just there for me, she was there for all of us. We all needed her by this time. Week four wasn’t just hard on me. It was hard for everyone.

Adam and Kayla came by to take Libby on an expedition to Vail that afternoon. Since my energy was so low, we stayed behind and lived vicariously through them. Before they left, I forced everyone to take a photo. I wanted to remember having so many people I loved around me at once. Also, it was one of the most beautiful days I had ever seen. One you read about in books…or blogs. I’m not sure if it was the actual day that was beautiful, or the knowledge that week four was behind me. Whatever the case, it was a day I needed to remember.

I really wanted to go out into the sun and soak it in, but the radiation and chemo treatments would not allow it. Chemo made my skin more susceptible to sunburns, hence the previous sunscreen excursion with Pal. To add to that, radiation mixed with a little time in the sun made my fatigue double in a matter of minutes. (This was a lesson I learned the hard way after Andee yelled at me for sitting out in the sun.) I finally had to settle for lying in the shade with only my feet in the sunlight. I needed to feel the warmth of the sun at least through my socks. I wanted to lie there, listen to my friends and family laughing, and forget the hell that we had all been through.

As I sprawled out on the deck floor, I like to think that Andee’s dog Hank knew I needed to absorb as much love as possible. So he threw in a little bit of his own, in order for my cup to runneth over.

Throughout the day, even though we were just sitting around talking or watching movies, I had to excuse myself a couple of times to rest. Sitting up seemed like the equivalent of exercise for my exhausted body. The fatigue was now something that I couldn’t shake on the weekends. It was going to be a constant. Luckily, the nausea took a side seat on Sunday though, when Libby made a beautiful breakfast complete with pancakes and bacon!

All too soon it was time to go back to the routine for Week 5.

Monday – Radiation and Chemo

Libby went with Kevin and I to radiation and chemo. After radiation, Pal came by with his favorite burritos for all of us. He had to run to work, but the three of us were able to sit down in the cafeteria and enjoy our loot.

Before my chemo appointment, I let Libby know that my veins were starting to make me cry. So, when we arrived, she let the staff know that we needed the best of the best to insert the needle. The nurse that had the magic touch the week before was there again. She approached for the first attempt and won! We all breathed a sigh of relief that I didn’t need to be poked more than once.

Pal joined us for lunch while Libby continued to make us all laugh with her stories. Once chemo was done, we had to give her back to Adam and said goodbye to our dear friend as they made their way to the airport.

Unfortunately, I found out later that the chemo was not going to let me relax anymore. That evening, I lost my dinner in the middle of the night. This was a huge disappointment because I had to start fasting next.

Tuesday – Fasting

Another day, another fast. Kevin took me to radiation and afterwards, I just laid in bed and prepared for the inevitable. Nausea…followed by magnesium citrate…followed by pooping…followed by more pooping. It was not as bad as the first episode though, since I had only been able to eat for a few days and had eaten light the day before due to the nausea.

Wednesday – Brachy

On this fateful day, my surgery did not take place until 1:00pm. This meant that Andee and I didn’t have to be there until 11:00am, which was fantastic news because I was able to sleep in for the first time since all of this started. I just had to make sure to do my enema and drink my apple juice two hours prior to arriving at the hospital. The bad news though, was that I had longer to go without eating and the nausea had gotten worse with the fast.

A building close to the hospital caught on fire as we were waiting for surgery. The nurse I had was very talkative and put the local news on so that we could see what was happening. The prep area was strangely quiet before we heard that there might be possible fire victims heading over. After Dr. Radiation and my newest anesthesiologist came in to talk to me, we all breathed sighs of relief that so far, the building appeared to have been empty. It had been under construction and everyone was hoping for the best outcome.

I made sure to give Dr. Radiation my notes from my last experience. I didn’t like that I was able to feel even the slightest bit of pressure with the last round.  Since he was now more familiar with how my body handled the drugs and with my quick metabolism, he and anesthesiologist #3 decided to have me sit up longer after giving the spinal block and before laying me down.

It worked. I was very numb this time around and didn’t get feeling in my right toe until the radiation part was almost over. They played Blues Travelers for me this time around. I was really tired and told Nurse Angel before she departed that I used to dance in my bedroom as a little girl to the song that was playing. She held my hand and expressed her amazement that even in the worst situations, there was power in music and mental time travel. Nurse Angel had a knack for knowing what I was thinking or feeling without me having to directly tell her. She knew I was missing that little girl and my old bedroom that felt a million miles away.  I received the radiation for a little over 6 minutes. During that time, I laid there with my exhausted eyes closed, picturing that dancing girl and all the happy memories that came with the music. I felt absolutely nothing. My doctors were good. I had zero feeling as Dr. Radiation and Dr. Tattoo removed the instruments.

I was happy to be returned to Andee in my private waiting room. I could tell it might take me a little longer to recover the feeling in my feet this time around, but the alternative was not a good option for me. I lay there wriggling my toes and commanding them to get their feeling back sooner, rather than later. We watched the TV, saddened to hear that there was a victim found in the fire after all. One person lost their life and another was missing. It broke my heart to know that somewhere out there a family was finding out that their lives would never be the same again. I counted my blessings.

Nurse Angel and her helper did not have any fun surprises for them when they helped me sit up. I could tell while they were sitting me down that I did not have as much feeling as I usually did by this time, but I knew it was only due to my request to feel less. So I did not panic.

Andee ordered me a hamburger for dinner. She also got me some chocolate milk this time around, which sounded really nice. I hadn’t had anything like that these last four weeks. Chocolate milk sounded like an amazing foreign drink from my childhood. Why had I not had chocolate milk before this moment? Oh yeah, because I had to drink so much stupid water! Although I was only able to force half the burger down, I drank all of the chocolate milk (of course). No need wasting something so precious!

Due to the length of time I was unable to eat, and the fact that I had chemo a couple of days earlier, the nausea was pretty intense. They had already given me anti-nausea medication for the surgery though. So, when Nurse Angel told me that she could give me something to put behind my ear to help, I told her I wanted to wait and see if I could get a handle on it through the night first.

Dr. Radiation came in to check on me. I yelled at him.

“What are you doing here? You just worked a long day and performed at least one surgery for the day. Go home! I’m only here because my legs are still getting feeling. Trust me, I am running out of here as soon as I can. You are free! Go!” I then smiled at him.

I always worry about how my dad, as a doctor, works himself to the bone. I’m pretty sure it is a trait found in most doctors, if not all of them. I would have none of it! I insisted he go home right away. He laughed at me and my good-spirited insistence and assured me that he would, as soon as we finished talking.

He had good news. During the first brachytherapy procedure, he had noted that it had been rather difficult to insert an instrument through my cervix due to the size and strength of the tumor. This time, the instrument went right through the cervix smoothly. He also said that the tissue was looking and acting more like a regular cervix.

“Your tumor is disintegrating,” he explained to us. Andee started to cry as he said the words.

“Wow! You actually have to put the instrument through the flesh of the cervix! That is so cool!!!” I was amazed at what your body can handle while you’re under some beautiful drugs. I was, of course, happy to hear the news that the tumor was going away. I always like a good medical story full of gory details – something Dr. Radiation was learning about me. I didn’t get weird with the details. The more details he supplied, the more fascinated I would become.

While Andee thanked him with tears in her eyes, I continued to yell at him to “go home already!”, but with a big exhausted smile plastered on my face.

Nurse Angel and her helper prepared to take out the catheter and help me stand up, so that I could walk down the hall. Nurse Angel said that she was really confident about taking the catheter out earlier than they usually do, because I had been doing so well with the recovery after each brachy. As we walked down the hall, we ran into Dr. Tattoo. He was happy to see me up and walking around.

Dr. Tattoo was a very tall man. Now, everyone is tall to me due to my short stature. However, compared to my height, everyone seems to be 5’9. Even people who are 6’0 seem to be 5’9 to me. People can only be so tall from my point of view. Dr. Tattoo was so tall that I knew, even from my angle, that he was well over 6’0 tall – maybe 6’4 at the least. He noticed that on me the hospital gown went all the way to my toes. He pointed out that on himself the same hospital gown would look like a mini dress. The nurses and I laughed at this image and they requested that he put on a hospital gown and take a picture next to me for my last brachy. He agreed to it with a smile on his face. He had an excellent sense of humor. I then yelled at him to go home as well. Aye these doctors and their workaholic life-styles!

Then it was time to put on my street clothes again and walk out with Nurse Angel to meet Andee. Now it was Nurse Angel’s turn to get yelled at to go home. She seemed hesitant and mentioned that there was some work she needed to finish. I gave her a hug and told her I would see her tomorrow. I also reminded her that the work would still be there tomorrow too.

We got home sometime between 6:00-7:00pm. Andee helped me into bed and I went right to sleep. My third brachy was done. One more brachy to go and a whole bunch of appointments still in my future…

Thursday – Radiation

Heath came to pick me up right at 8:15am the next morning for my 9:00am appointment. I had tried my usual tricks of toast and medicine to subside the nausea, but it was not working. I still had to drink water before my appointment and was trying so hard not to puke it up. If I didn’t have a full bladder, they would not let me get the radiation and then I would be stuck at the hospital longer.

I was having a much harder time keeping a positive attitude. In fact, I was starting to snap back at all my friends when they would say “You’re so close!” It was true. I was so close…but I now hated that phrase.

When I started college, I remember being downright shocked when I heard that someone in their junior or senior year decided to drop out or take a break.

“Why would they quit when they were so close?” I would think to myself. Personally, I knew that it was impossible for me to get through without a break. So, I made sure to take as many credits as possible during the fall and spring semesters and avoided summer school like the plague. I knew that if I overworked myself, I would end up leaving early, never coming back, and regretting all of my decisions in life. I didn’t want to end up like my fellow students who had walked away from it all when they had the finish line in sight.

It wasn’t until I was finally in my junior and senior year that I realized exactly why people leave. School is so hard! It sucks and it takes everything in you to work day after day at two or three jobs and then stay up all night studying and writing papers. Sleep is also only an option when you don’t have any homework…which is never. Sure, you can see the finish line. However, you can also see a really nice spot on the grass in the quad where a nap would absolutely be possible.

I made it through college, but I wasn’t so sure that I was going to make it through this cancer diagnosis…mostly because I knew that this time I wouldn’t be getting a diploma at the end. I also wouldn’t be getting any assurances.

At the end of college, you never have to worry that someday you might get a phone call or need to meet with the dean to confirm that you actually did graduate. At the end of college, you get to walk across the stage, take your piece of paper, and never look back. At the end of treatment though, it wouldn’t be over – and I didn’t know how to explain that to everyone who was praying for me and sending love, gifts, and reassurances that “you are so close.”

“So close to what?” I would want to respond, only because the finish line was still out of sight for me. It was like I was running a marathon, but I couldn’t see where I was on the map. I had no idea if I was even on the right track. I only knew that I was feeling tired, nauseas, and weak and that if I could just lie down on that spot in the grass, it would mean that I could stop running forever.

It had flowers around it and called to me with little birds that sang in the trees above. Oh and look! A little bunny and a cute deer are already taking a nap right next to that spot. All I had to do was stop running…

I got to radiation and went to find Nurse Angel. The nausea was really bad, so I was hoping the patch behind the ear she had offered me the day before was still up for grabs. She was happy to see me and immediately got me into a room where she placed the patch. She warned me, like they did when I had this patch back in January, not to touch it with my fingers and then touch my eyes.

“Yes. I remember,” I joked with her. “Treat it like a freshly cut jalapeno.” I gave her a hug and went back to the waiting room for them to call my name.

As I lay on the radiation table, I could feel my resolve slipping away. The radiation team told me that if the nausea was getting too bad and I needed to throw up, they could see and hear me. I simply had to flag them down and they would immediately come to assist me.

“So close to what?” I asked myself…“What is the point of all of this pain?” I needed something more than a finish line to run to.

It was in that cold room, as I stared up at the ceiling and listened to the usual 80’s music that was playing, when I answered my own question.

“Life.”

I needed to run towards life itself…life in the form of my family and friends.

I needed to run towards my nieces and hug them tight. I needed to dance with them like I once did as a little girl in my room. I needed to feel the sun on my face and not worry about a sun burn. I needed to taste food and not be afraid I might puke it up. I needed to eat a little too much with the Denver crew. I needed to run again. I needed to hold my mom’s hand. I needed to taste wine with my dad. I needed to have a sister day with all of my sisters. I needed to listen to my brothers play guitar. I needed to hold Kevin tight and never let him go. I needed to travel. I needed to be able to read a book again. I needed to watch new movies. I needed to laugh harder than I ever had before. The list went on and on….I needed to live.

And, in order to live, I needed to fight.

I was mourning the life I had before all of this, but I was also forgetting that I needed to fight for the memories still to be made.

I came down off the radiation table, exhausted (as usual), but a little wiser. I needed to keep my eye on the real prize. It wasn’t the metaphorical finish line. It wasn’t the end of treatment, because the sad fact was that I may have to go through more treatment in the future. It was for the new memories I would create once this treatment was over. It was life. I was so close to remembering what it felt like to live again.

I was so close to having a life again.

Part XII – Last Call (May 12, 2018)

Even though I had a huge moment of clarity, I still needed to constantly remind myself why I was going through all of this anguish. I was constantly sick and exhausted, which resulted in me being a bit grumpy, but the truth is that I had an amazing group of loved ones who made it impossible for me to dwell on things.

Andee could tell that I was having a hard time. She posted that I needed encouragement on the Facebook group she had created for me – and she was absolutely right. I don’t think I can ever express how important everyone’s positive thoughts, prayers, text messages, phone calls, voice messages, gifts, and Facebook comments and posts meant to me. Whenever I started to feel down, or wanted to give up, someone would reach out to me in some form and snap me out of it so that I could remember what was important. It was as if they could sense my despair in that moment and knew how much I needed them.

Friday – Radiation

Pal was scheduled to take me to radiation that day. We usually hung out and watched movies, but it turned out that he needed to work afterwards. It worked out for the best though, because I returned from radiation ready to sleep and recover from Week 5’s chemo, brachytherapy, and radiation treatments.

I woke up from my nap later that day feeling rested and with a surprise visit from Andee! She had checked on me earlier, and even though I insisted that I had eaten, she still showed up with food for me. She remembered that I had been craving French fries a couple of days before. Although I wasn’t hungry, I was so happy to see her and take in her bright energy. The funny thing is that I also ended up eating all of the French fries. Andee always knew me better than myself.

I had assumed I would be alone for the day, since Pal had to work and Kevin’s hours were usually long. And then…Erin also showed up! I hadn’t been able to see her for three weeks, due to the terrible cold she had caught. It really did a number on her, and because my immune system was so sensitive, she had kept her distance. I was so happy to see her again! She brought me some beautiful flowers and a card. It was like I was being reunited with a long lost friend.

Although both Erin and Andee had to leave for other commitments, I was left with the glorious smell of flowers and delicious food while I lay in bed and rested with a thankful heart.

Saturday – Last Bloodwork!

Pal came to pick me up the next day for the last bloodwork I would need in preparation for my last chemo! I finally had some energy back from resting the last couple of days. We went to a different lab than I had been to before, but it happened to be where Erin was working that day. I got poked and then chatted up my friend while purchasing my last enema for my last brachytherapy.

I had been craving ice cream, so Pal then took me to get some in celebration of all the lasts to come. Since I had the energy, I went ahead and got some for Kevin and his work buddies too. Pal and I talked to them and laughed while we all ate our snacks.

When we got home, Pal wasn’t done. He cooked me a delicious meal! I sat in the kitchen and watched my friend help me in more ways than I think he would ever know. Once the meal was eaten, we went to watch a movie on my couch where we could bash it (like we usually do with all movies) in a comfortable manner.

That evening, after I rested for a little bit, Kevin took me to see the gang for a quick visit before they headed off to the movie theatre. I didn’t have the energy to be out of the house for an entire movie, but I was happy to hug them all in a social setting before heading home to rest some more.

Sunday – Fasting

Kevin had to work all day and then he had an annual work party in the evening. I was unable to attend with him since I was sick, but also because the fasting and medicine were going to make it impossible for me not to run to the bathroom every two minutes. Luckily, Kevin works with some great people – one of whom is our friend Tubin. (His first name is actually Adam, but we liked his last name so much that we stuck to calling him “Tubin”.) Tubin and his wife, Chelsea, happily picked Kevin up for a fun evening out on the town. We call them “The Tubins” when they are together or with their kids, who are equally as happy as their parents. They arrived with boisterous excitement and waited patiently for Kevin to get ready. Since St. Patty’s day was quickly approaching, Kevin suited up in his favorite green outfit. He looked amazing and was so thrilled to go out with our friends while wearing his accessorized bowler hat.

Although I was left working through my usual fasting routine, I was super happy to know that Kevin was out there with our close friends taking a much deserved break from reality. Plus, it was nice to know that I didn’t have to worry too much about embarrassing myself in front of him for most of this fasting experience.

Kevin arrived home at a decent hour, safe and sound, with less weight on his shoulders thanks to the Tubins.

Monday – Brachy #4

My last brachytherapy appointment was again set for 1:00pm with an arrival time of 11:00am. Because of this, Kevin got to sleep in for the first time since my treatments began. The surgical check-in team now recognized me at this point and they were always very nice. In fact, we were all equally excited for this to be the last round of surgical procedures.

My veins continued to become more and more fragile with the chemo treatments. I was relieved that for this round of brachytherapy, it had been a bit longer since my last chemo. Instead of only a couple days, it had been a full six days. Nonetheless, it was still an issue. The nurse I had for my second brachy was there again though, so after one more busted vein, they went to retrieve her. They said she was the “Vein Whisperer”. I was so happy to see her again. I had asked for her during my third brachy, but she had been off that day.

The “Vein Whisperer” came in prepared. Along with her usual numbing equipment, she also had something that looked like it belonged to a virtual reality player. In actuality, it was a special viewing device that helped her see the veins in my arm better. She had to dig a little bit to get to a vein, but since she had numbed it, that was no problem for me. Her hard worked paid off too. I only had to be poked a total of two times for this visit.

Dr. Radiation and I had a groove now. He came in to see if I had any questions or issues and I did not. I was ready to get this last brachy done!

I noticed that I could feel the numbing needle before the spinal block a little bit more and more with each procedure. It was never something that I was afraid of or couldn’t handle though. The fear of the unknown before my first spinal block was much more severe than actually feeling the needle.

The nurses in post-op were also becoming very familiar with me. They knew that I would wake up pretty alert and ready for the next step. I always breathed a sigh of relief whenever I heard them call Nurse Angel to let her know that I was on my way. I trusted her so completely.

On the way to my private room, where I would happily be reunited with Kevin, I chatted up the nurses about what I used on my eyelashes to keep them growing during the chemo treatments. I loved talking to them in the hopes that I could give them a break from what I knew was a very long day.

Once I was back in the radiation room, I asked the Ghostbuster’s guy what would happen if he found out that I did have radiation emanating from me.

“Would you freak out and yell at everyone ‘RUN! RUN! GET OUT OF THE ROOM’!!!” I couldn’t help but laugh at the image in my head. “And then what do I do? Just lie here with my legs in the air for a certain amount of time? Would you guys have to dress up in those weird outfits like you see in ET?”

The Ghostbuster’s guy laughed with me and assured me that what he was doing was strictly protocol.

“It’s just an extra measure they do to ensure every one of your safety and theirs, but it’s not exactly necessary.” I’m sure it was necessary, but I liked how easy he was to joke around with.

When Dr. Radiation came in, I asked him one of the many questions that I had been dreading.

“So, you said that the tumor was disintegrating, but what if this fourth brachy doesn’t kill it completely?”

“That is not an option,” he said quickly. He then gave me a look that I had begun to recognize. It was a look that said he knew I was getting too much “in my head” and so he refused to nurture my paranoia.

“But what if it doesn’t?” I asked again, my stubborn personality still fully intact.

“The radiation is doing its job and everything we are doing is going to be enough to destroy it,” he replied as he smiled reassuringly at me.

I had a really good doctor. I knew then, that if for some reason I didn’t get rid of this stupid thing, it would have nothing to do with his efforts.

That day, they played Prince for me. I happily moved my toes (since that was all I could move) to the beat. This was my last internal procedure and I was elated to have made it to this point. I was exhausted, but not as nauseous as usual since chemo was six days ago. I was proud of how far I had come. I was proud of my team for getting me here.  A little over six minutes later, I was feeling nothing as the instruments were removed for the last time. They took me back to my Kevin, while I smiled at all of them and made as many stupid jokes I could think of.

For my last brachy meal, I went back to the basics and ate pasta again. I also added a pint of chocolate milk, as I realized that I was missing Andee. Even though I saw her as often as possible, I wished she could have been there to see how well I was doing this round. I had been so sick when she brought me only five days before. I hated being the cause for her concern. I had Kevin send her a video, knowing that even though she wasn’t there, she was worrying.

I didn’t have any embarrassing incidents for Nurse Angel this time around. And, as promised, Dr. Tattoo showed up to my room with a hospital gown on! He still wore his scrub pants, to keep his decency, in what looked similar to a mini skirt dress! The nurses took a picture of us as we all laughed in good humor. I would show it to you dear reader, but I want to keep my doctors and nurses identities private for their sake. So, you are just going to have to picture it in your head. It was fantastic!

Nurse Angel then removed my catheter and got a helper to walk me around the hall. I changed my clothes and prepared to be walked out to meet Kevin. The nurses said that since it was my last brachytherapy, they were going to let me ring the gong that evening, as well as when I had my last external radiation. They said they were so proud of me and that I deserved to ring the gong twice!

The gong was exactly what it sounded like. My radiation team had a small gong placed on the nurses’ desk that a patient rang at the end of their treatment. I had never heard the gong ring, but Kevin had. I felt beyond honored that they would let me ring it in celebration of this milestone! By this time, Kevin had already gone to retrieve the car and the radiation department was empty – aside from me, Nurse Angel, and her helper. It was still a momentous occasion though. We all smiled and hugged each other in the empty hallway, knowing that I was one step closer to happiness.

Kevin was sad that he missed the moment, but I assured him there would be another chance to see me ring the gong. That moment would also be much bigger than that evening’s.

Pal came over afterwards to hang out with us for the evening. We watched a scary movie and enjoyed the accomplishment of the day.

Tuesday – Radiation and Chemo

I noticed the next morning that it still hurt quite badly when I peed. Usually, by my 9:00am appointment, I was already getting back to normal from the catheter. I think my poor little pee hole was sick of being poked at though. I didn’t blame it, but made sure to let Dr. Radiation know when we chatted that day. He told me that if it didn’t go away I could use AZO, which helps numb the pain while peeing. Since they had pumped me with a bunch of antibiotics before the procedure, and also because I was taking them regularly, we both didn’t think that I was getting an infection. Plus, this was more of an irritated type of pain that only occurred when I peed, opposed to feeling like I had to pee constantly.

I had a list of questions to ask Dr. Radiation in our one-on-one. I also emailed the list of questions to Dr. Chemo to get his opinions as well. Below are their responses to said questions:

Question #1 – When could my family and nieces visit?

Dr. Radiation: Anytime

Dr. Chemo: Anytime, but I had to wash my hands often and stay away from anyone that was sick.

Question #2 – When should I return to work?

Dr. Radiation: I should wait six weeks before returning to work full time. Even then I would, at best, be at 80%.

Dr. Chemo: This completely depended on my personal recovery. From the chemo perspective, I could return that month, but this now varied since I also had radiation.

Question #3 – When was it safe for me to drive again?

Both Doctors: Right away.

Question #4 – Would they schedule my follow-up visits and PET scan, or did I need to do that?

Dr. Radiation: I would have a follow-up exam 6 weeks after my last radiation appointment, which would be set up that day. They would contact me and set up the PET scan after that 6 week visit, and that would most likely be between 8-10 weeks after my last treatment. Then I would have follow-up appointments every three months for two years, which would rotate between Dr. Surgeon and Dr. Radiation. After that, I would have follow-ups every 6 months. Once I hit the 5 year mark, it would be a yearly checkup.

Dr. Chemo: My follow-up visits would mainly be between Dr. Radiation and Dr. Surgeon, but he would always be happy to answer any questions I might have for him.

Question #5 – Should I try CBD oil? I had a lot of friends and family who had used it and felt like it helped their healing process.

Dr. Radiation: There are no known issues with trying CBD oil after radiation. But, there is also no proof that it helps. So, if I wanted to try it that was up to me.

Dr. Chemo: I should wait 2-3 weeks to be safe, because there are so many unknown considerations in regards to the chemo/radiation/cancer therapies. Although most people seem to be able to tolerate it, I should be cautious.

 Question #6 – Is it safe for me to travel?

Dr. Radiation: Yes.

Dr. Chemo: Yes, but he asked that I please wait 2-3 weeks. Or, I needed to wear a mask if I had to travel sooner.

Question #7 – When could I start running again? (I used to run 2-3 miles up to 3-5 days a week before all of this happened.)

Both Doctors: I needed to start off slow and build up to running. I should start with walking first and then slowly move up to jogging. I shouldn’t start the walks though until about 7-10 days after my treatments ended.

Question #8 – When could I have an adult beverage again?

Both doctors: I could start drinking in moderation right away.

After radiation, and my weekly chat with Dr. Radiation, it was time to head to my last chemo. I was in good spirits because it was the last one. I even told Kevin that if I needed to be poked more than once, I could handle it since I knew that this would be the last time I would have a needle going towards my arms for quite some time. After this, it would be external radiation appointments for another week and then the healing process. No more needles. The thought alone gave me hope for better days ahead.

Kevin and I made ourselves comfortable. The nurse we had on my last day was one that I had noticed a couple of times before during previous appointments. She had made us laugh a couple of weeks earlier when she saw my “Fuck Cancer” bag and showed me a tattoo on her wrist that also related the same sentiment. When we walked in, she teased us for our Chicago Blackhawks attire, but said in the end hockey was hockey. Plus, we were all on the same team in this room. It made me think of when my cousin Mando sent me the LA Kings shirt. How true her words were.

She only needed to poke me once – a little gift for my last day of chemo. Once the needle was in, Kevin and I began to relax and look forward to the end of the appointment.

I went to the bathroom about an hour later, only to return to see my beautiful sister with a giant edible arrangement from my family. IT WAS SO GOOD!!! Kevin and I happily ate it, with Andee cheering us on. Pal joined us later for his lunch break and even got to taste one or two chocolate covered pieces.

The nurses came by when my last bag was done and began to sing:

“Hit the road Jack, and don’t you come back, no more, no more, no more, no more! Hit the road Jack, and don’t you come back no more.” They clapped their hands and cheered and handed me a card signed by the chemo team. I had tears in my eyes from the excitement of the moment.

Andee, Heath, and Pal came over to celebrate with me and Kevin at our house. Andee had made homemade green chile chicken enchiladas for us to pig out on while we watched a movie. Everyone was happy to put chemo behind us! The edible arrangement did not make it through the night.

Wednesday – Radiation

Andee came bright and early to take me to my 9:00am radiation appointment. I was happy that the nausea had stayed at bay the night before, but with the chemo drugs in my bloodstream, it had reared its ugly head again by that morning.

The brachy from Monday, followed by the chemo from Tuesday, had resulted in a day full of nausea and exhaustion. I had to sleep the day away once Andee brought me back home. If I slept, then I wouldn’t feel as nauseous. At least, this was my attempt to not feel the nausea. I knew that I needed to drink water, but at this point, it was difficult because it took so much energy to sit up and lift the glass to my mouth. I drank as much as I could muster whenever I found it necessary to get up and go to the bathroom.

Thursday – Radiation

Heath came on time to pick me up for another radiation appointment. I continued with my morning ritual and tried to chug my water on the way.

Once I was done with the radiation, I sat up on the table. I said bye to the radiation people and headed straight for the bathroom like I always did. Since I needed to have a full bladder for my treatment, I always had to pee afterwards. As I was walking down the hall though, I could feel something happening. I started to bolt to the bathroom and made it just in time to expel “in Exorcist fashion” the toast, Metamucil, and all of the water that I had drank that morning. I was so annoyed. It took so much energy and determination to drink that water and now I was going to have to start all over again…if I could.

My body was done…4 brachytherapy sessions, 6 chemo sessions, and 25 external radiation treatments all built up to this moment. I hovered over the cold porcelain, with the bruises on my arms in sight, and gasped for breath. I was shaking as I cleaned myself up before heading back to Heath in the waiting room.

Needless to say, I ended up sleeping most of the day away in an attempt to apologize to my body for what I had been putting it through.

Friday – Radiation

I felt a little better after resting through the day and night. That morning, Lori came to pick me up. She always knew how to make me laugh at the craziness we would observe outside our car windows during the drive. When she got me back home, I rested per my new usual.

That evening, Andee and Heath were heading to LA to attend my Uncle Davy’s memorial. My cousins had arranged for it to be a little later than the norm, so that more of the family could attend. They stopped by to drop off my “nephews”, which are their two doggies (Hank and Lex). The three of us, along with Stout, were going to have a relaxing weekend. I was excited to hang out with them in “Blanket Heaven” on my couch and watch girl movies.

I was devastated that I wasn’t going to be able to attend the memorial and see my Ortiz family in LA, but grateful that Andee and Heath would be able to represent.

On Saturday, I had diarrhea most of the day. My body seemed to be rebelling in any form possible. I didn’t even want to know what would have happened if I had taken it, and its low white blood cells, on a plane while then proceeding to try and go to various events.

It was St. Patty’s day. It was the lamest and saddest St. Patty’s day of my life. My Uncle Davy was gone and I couldn’t be there to say goodbye. Instead, I sat on the toilet trying to be thankful that at least I didn’t need to be poked by a needle that day for blood tests.

Andee and Heath returned on Sunday and let me know that I was missed and so many had sent their love to me.

Monday – Radiation (NO CHEMO!!!!)

Only two more radiation appointments left. This was the first week Kevin and I didn’t have to spend all day at the hospital with surgery or chemo. He only had to attend my quick radiation appointments and then it would be behind us!! I was in good spirits. I was still fighting fatigue and a small bit of nausea, but I was happy.

We met up with Erin after my appointment to celebrate with breakfast! Before heading there though, I had Kevin take me to the store to get some supplies for a “Thank You’” basket that I was putting together for the radiation team. I had to do it first, because I knew after breakfast I would need to rest my tired body. Since I didn’t have chemo that day, my appetite was returning. We got some hot dogs for the evening and planned to watch our favorite movies.

It was so nice to know that my nausea was not going to get worse. The chemo had a way of sneaking up on me and now I didn’t have to worry about it! It could only get better from here on out.

Tuesday – LAST RADIATION APPOINTMENT!!!

For my last appointment, I brought a big basket full of goodies with me along with a card that read the following:

Dear Radiation Team,

Thank you for zapping me back into shape!

Thank you for CT’ing the real me.

Thank you for taking care of my achy brachy heart!

Thank you for putting up with all of my crap, literally!

Because of you guys I was here one day and “gong” tomorrow.

 In all seriousness, thank you for helping me get my life back.

 Sincerely,

Maria A. Ortiz

I filled the basket with raisins and almonds for the healthy people, as I knew there was always that one person in the office that was on a diet or hated sugar. For the rest of us who had a problem saying “no” to sweets, I added Reeses Cups, 3 Musketeers, Dove chocolate, Starbursts, and Werther’s Originals. The Werther’s Originals were actually Kevin’s idea. Pal made fun of him and said it was because he acts like an old lady. (Fun fact, Kevin is that “one person” in the office.)

I went through my treatment with a tired, but happy smile on my face. Then it was time to go have one last chat with Dr. Radiation.

“I’m still a little sensitive when I pee from the last brachy. That should go away with time right? I’m sure my body is just a little tired,” I said lightly.

“Well, the first thing we can do for you is give you another pregnancy test.” At the end of this statement, he actually started to laugh at his own joke.

Kevin and I looked at each other and started to laugh along with him.

“Dr. Radiation! Did you just…make a joke?!?!” I was so happy to see my no-nonsense doctor in such a jovial mood. Also, it was an awesome joke. I will never truly understand why I had to take so many pregnancy tests. The joke let me know that he was just as excited and optimistic for this day as I was.

“So, am I cancer free right now or is it still there?” My friend that had gone into remission about a month earlier had let me know that apparently she was in remission before the doctors told her she was. She just never asked the question directly and so she assumed that she wasn’t. I didn’t want this same thing to happen to me. I needed to know the answer as soon as possible. Alas, everyone’s cancer was different though along with the healing process.

“Not quite. If we were to look at you right now with a PET scan, we would still see it light up with some cancer,” Dr. Radiation explained. “This is why we need to wait so long for you to heal and then a couple weeks longer to give you the PET scan. Although you are no longer getting chemo and radiation treatments, the radiation is still doing its job in your body. It’s still in there working. This is why the healing process is so long.”

He highly recommended that I enjoy the fact that I wasn’t getting treatments anymore though. He said that I should feel a little better every day.

Kevin took a video of me ringing the gong and jumping up and down in excitement, which Andee made sure to spread around to all of our friends and family.

Andee also called afterwards squealing with excitement for me. Well, for all of us. This was….words cannot describe.

Kevin and I then ate breakfast with Pal. Later that evening, Andee and Heath arrived with balloons, tacos, and a bottle of Prosecco. Andee knew that I still wasn’t drinking, but she said that I deserved to celebrate with a drink when I was ready. We all watched a movie together and breathed a sigh of relief.

The worst was over, but my body still had a long way to go to get back to feeling normal again.

Part XIII – It Feels Like the First Time (June 23, 2018)

“Why is your face all orange?” Kevin asked, as we stood outside a bar in New Orleans waiting for our ghost tour to begin. I had been talking about this tour for weeks and was smiling up at him while the sun was slowly going down. I couldn’t help but laugh at his obvious question. I had wondered the same thing when I put on my make-up that morning. It was the first time in about six months that I had tried to wear full make-up. I usually never wore foundation, but I wanted to look nice for our 15-year anniversary trip.

“Well, it might have something to do with my skin tone changing since the last time I wore make-up. What? You don’t like it? I wore it special for you!” I giggled at him and felt my face redden. The good thing was that I knew he didn’t know I was blushing because of the make-up. The bad thing was that I still looked orange. At least I knew now that I wasn’t crazy when I put my make-up on that morning.

Looking back at what had gotten me to this point made it so that I wasn’t upset about my orange face, but instead was so happy that I could be standing in this spot at all.

It took about four full days after my last radiation treatment for the nausea and extreme fatigue to go away.

I had always been a big fan of bruises. I thought they looked so cool. I figured if you had to fall down and feel pain, at least you could get a cool looking bruise out of it. But my arms just reminded me of all the crap I had been through. I started to wear long sleeves to try and cover them up…not for other people’s sake, but for myself. When I washed my hands in the bathroom, I would be instantly disgusted with myself if my sleeves rolled up. Those bruises weren’t me. They weren’t a funny story about how I fell down, lost a bet, or thought I could win the Olympics one random Thursday. Those bruises were reminders that my body was not what it once was.

Whenever people would say, “Wow, you look so good. You can’t even tell you had cancer,” I would want to tell them, “The arms have all the scars.”

It would take two and a half weeks for most of the bruising to go away.

Also, although I didn’t notice it while I was in treatment, it became evident that my hair had thinned with the chemo. It also had stopped growing completely. My mom was now sending me Keranique hair products to help it get healthy again.

 It was so frustrating that I didn’t just wake up and already be instantly better. I still felt extremely fragile and knew that the drugs and radiation were continuing to work hard in my system.

In order to get my strength back, I needed to build up my muscles again. I had essentially been lying in bed for the past three months. So, on Kevin’s days off, we would go to the zoo or to a museum. Somewhere where we could walk around and feel alive, but also where I could sit down as the exhaustion hit.

Yes, the exhaustion was still there. I fought it as hard as I was fighting to live. My goals were small, but huge in comparison to what I was able to do in treatment. If I could walk around a museum for 15 minutes, then I could be trusted by myself in a grocery store. If I could walk around a zoo, then I could walk from one terminal in an airport to another.

To give you a better idea of the healing process, I will explain it in the steps I was able to take and track with my Fitbit. Before I went into surgery, it was common for me to get between 12,000 and 15,000 steps in a day.

Week One: Unable to track my steps. Still very weak. I didn’t even bother wearing my Fitbit. I would guess around 700 steps a day.

The day after treatment was over, Kevin and Pal took me out to a special breakfast with some friends of ours. Although I didn’t have radiation or chemo that day, I still had a bout of exhaustion wash over me about an hour into breakfast. I wanted to hang out longer with our friends, but had learned what that overwhelming feeling meant. It meant I was done…whether I wanted to go or not. Kevin seemed to be ready for it. When I turned towards him to explain how I was feeling, he spoke up before I could even say anything.

“I better get Maria home to get some rest. Thanks for hanging out with us today guys! We had a lot of fun.” I apologized all the way to the car, but he kept saying how well I did. I was so frustrated….only one day out and I already wanted to do better. I needed to get stronger.

The next day, I rested while Kevin was at work and then begged him to take me out to dinner. After dinner, I had crazy cravings for hot dogs and ice cream. So, we went to Target to get the necessities.

My hunger was returning as the nausea was dissipating and I was loving food like I had never loved food before! And trust me friends…I have always loved my food! From the day I went into surgery, to the time my treatments were over, I lost about 10 lbs. I am pretty certain that most of that weight was muscle though, since my stubborn panza (as we Hispanics like to call it) never went away. Since I was still healing and nauseated, I stayed in my home for the weekend, but with plenty of visits from my Denver crew.

Week Two: Goal was 2,000 steps a day.

During this week, the old me was finally beginning to come back. I even danced with my friend Erin in the kitchen after a couple of drinks of champagne! The next morning though, I woke up and had a big lump in my throat. I freaked out. What did I do? Why did I have fun and dance? Why did I drink any alcohol? That had to be the problem. I emailed both Dr. Radiation and Dr. Chemo after consulting with my dad. All three doctors told me the same thing…it sounded like I had a clogged salivary gland. It was actually quite common. I just needed to drink water (oh jeez…more water!) and maybe suck on some lemons. They all agreed that it would go away within 48 hours.

At this point, I was obsessed with the tiniest things. I was scared that I was going to break myself. After putting all of the money and effort into getting better, I could have ruined everything by simply becoming dehydrated.

I was lucky to receive a visit from my Uncle Danny and brother-in-law Sterling that Wednesday. They were just the distraction I needed to stop focusing and putting too much pressure on myself.

Sterling showed up first and literally gave me a day at the spa made up of a bag full of goodies. By the time I waved goodbye to him, the lump had gone down drastically.

My uncle came shortly after Sterling left, and brought with him a little bit of “Grandma’s cough syrup”…which is also known as tequila. Although I didn’t get to drink any of it that day, it felt incredible to laugh with him.

Week Three: Goal was 5,000 steps a day.

I immediately made plans with my brother Ray to fly to see my family and best friends in Las Cruces. He was kind enough to offer to pay for the ticket and I jumped at the opportunity. I needed to hug them all and affirm the dreams that had helped me get through so many treatments were now indeed real.

A trip through the airport was enough incentive to get me to walk around more. I needed to be able to travel by myself and stay healthy. I practiced walking for the two weeks leading up to my trip. Some days were harder than others, but I had a goal. I needed to be able to walk through an airport without assistance.

I also needed all of my Denver crew caregivers to have a break. Even with the treatments over, I could see them worrying about me. They needed to get back to their own lives and have a weekend where they didn’t need to worry if Maria was okay. If I was back at home, they would know I was fine. My brothers and my mom would never let anything happen to me. Plus, my brothers knew how to yell at me – and, without Andee by my side keeping me in check, they would definitely jump at the occasion.

Upon my arrival, it took everything in me not to cry at the sight of my older brother in the airport. I had dreamed of that moment. I had laid on a radiation table and cried for it, but I didn’t want this trip to be about that room. I wanted it to be about leaving that room.

And leave we did. I got into his pretty red car, he turned up the volume on the music, and he hit the gas! Before I knew it, that room was a distant bad dream.

It felt so good to be living again. It was wonderful to hold my mom’s hand, joke with Curtis, admire my brothers, hug my nieces, laugh with my sisters-in-law, and catch up with my friends Ashley, Kalli and Ryan. They fed my spirit and brought a part of me back from the dead…the part that was so afraid I would never be able to see them again. And here I was, getting a little better every day.

So many wonderful things happened during that visit.

I got to sing to one of my nieces as I tucked her to sleep. I never thought I would be able to see her and sing to her again. It took everything in me to stop the tears from falling and my voice from cracking as I sang her one of my favorite lullabies.

I drank chocolate milk out of a wine glass with my mom, as we laughed and gossiped through most of the night.

I ate some of the best salsa I ever had with Curtis.

I dived into every new memory with my brothers and sisters-in-law. We laughed so much…and when we watched movies, my youngest niece randomly picked my lap as the best spot in the house.

And at the end, I watched as two of my other nieces screamed out they loved me – while one of them ran as far along with the car as she could, as my brother drove us away from his beautiful home.

It was hard to say goodbye to them after so many dreams and wishes were fulfilled. However, I needed to get stronger for them, so that I could come back again. I was still very weak. In the airport on the way home, I had a layover. After the walking I had already endured for the first flight, now walking from one terminal to the next showed me that I still had a long way to go. My legs were sore from just that little extra bit of walking. I could hear Andee and Kevin yelling at me to drink water in my head, and believe it or not, I actually listened.

I finished out the week trying to be as active as possible. I didn’t want to miss a thing. Kevin and I went out to dinner a few times and tried to catch up on the many movies I had missed over the last couple months.

I was also able to catch up with my girlfriends and find out how life had been treating them.

I was trying to go on small walks to build up muscle again in my legs. My cousin Ali had given me an audible 3-month subscription, which was perfect for these small walks. It helped distract the aching in my legs as I walked in a small circle around my neighborhood. I still occasionally needed to nap on the days that I made the circle a little wider.

Week Four: Goal was 6,000 steps a day.

Kevin was able to take me to the museum. Although I still needed breaks throughout the visit, I was able to stay out with him all day.

Next, we celebrated our 15-year anniversary. I dressed up for the first time that I could remember. It took me forever to get ready. I was still moving at a slower pace, but the fact that I could get ready and then go out for a nice evening was already showing I had made progress.

We brought the entire gang with us to dinner, because we wanted to be with our people and it didn’t matter what the occasion was. We were so happy and grateful to toast to all that we had been through so far, while being as optimistic as possible about the future.

I had to continue to walk, but I also slowly started doing chores around the house. I was able to do little things, like take the laundry downstairs. When I went on my walks, I was still letting Andee or Kevin know, so that they wouldn’t worry if I didn’t answer the phone while I was out and moving.

I had a couple of bad nights where I could feel a pulsating cramp throughout my abdomen. I noticed through the night that the cramp would move. When I talked to my Dad about it, he pointed out that my ovaries were probably making the journey back to their original spot. It was exciting to know that things were getting back to normal. Even my guts knew it was time to be me again.

Pal and I got to go downtown and visit with one of his army buddies that weekend. I was able to just hang out and I didn’t have to mention cancer once.

Then, Kevin and I ended the week at the Tubin’s house. It was another chance to casually hang out with friends and not have to overthink anything.

Week Five: Goal was 7,000 steps a day.

My walks were getting longer. I didn’t need to nap after them anymore. I was now able to drive myself to Andee’s house or go shopping for small things at the store.

Kevin was also able to start playing hockey again. It was something he had put on hold for way too long.

We celebrated Heath’s birthday that week. I felt so relieved that Heath and Andee didn’t need to worry about me anymore. They could now enjoy their lives and invite me out to meet them for lunch or dinner, without assuming that I was going to be too tired.

That being said, my legs were sore from the walks and I was definitely not 100%. I was, however, getting stronger every day. By the end of the week, I was watching my “nephews” (Hank and Lex) while Andee and Heath enjoyed a night out on the town for his birthday.  We watched girl movies and cuddled up under the blankets, proud of our achievements and hard work thus far.

Week Six: Goal was 8,000 steps a day.

My return date for work was quickly approaching. I knew I wouldn’t have any more vacation or sick days when I returned, since I had been on disability. So, Kevin and I made a last minute decision to go on a weekend trip to New Orleans to truly celebrate our 15-year anniversary. I had been working so hard to get my energy level up, so we thought this would be the best way to treat ourselves for all the accomplishments we had made.

This was also a fantastic way to distract myself. Based on the calendar, my six week appointment with Dr. Radiation was quickly coming up. It was inevitable that I would have to go back to the hospital soon.

We pampered ourselves! My dad also bought us a couple of tours as an anniversary gift. New Orleans was the perfect place to vacation. We could walk a little around the French Quarter, and then go into any pub or café to rest my sore legs and take a break from the sun. We ate, drank, and listened to amazing live music everywhere we went. We learned about the history of one of the greatest cities in America. I was even able to swim and be in the sun. While laughing with Kevin, I happily floated in the water and looked up at the sky. I only wore foundation the first day we were there and then relished in the fact that Kevin preferred me with less make-up.

Before I knew it though, we were home and back to reality again. Andee came to pick me up for my appointment with Dr. Radiation. I was nervous, but excited to see my old friends again.

I was warmly greeted by everyone and gave Nurse Angel a giant hug when she came back to take us to the room. We chatted about how well I was feeling and then asked me to change into the cloth sheet.

“All right! I’m ready for the show!” I joked with her. “My mom asked me what I was going to wear for my appointment and I jokingly told her that I was contemplating not wearing any pants, since there was no point.” Andee and I happily laughed at the idea.

Nurse Angel got a funny smile on her face and then said, “Well I wanted to tell you something, but now it seems inappropriate after that comment…I’m just going to tell you anyway, but take it in a different context.” She giggled a little and then finished her thought. “Dr. Radiation told me that he was really excited to see Maria today.” (Of course, Andee and I burst out in laughter as Nurse Angel finished her story.) “We were all excited to see you…not in that way. It’s just we rarely get someone with such a positive attitude. You have been so strong and made us all laugh during this difficult time. I hope you know how much we are all cheering for you. Also, thank you again for the candies and the card. It really meant a lot to all of us.” She gave me the most genuine smile. I could tell she was holding back a few tears.

“Did someone eat the raisins and the almonds?” I asked.

“Of course! All the snacks were eaten up right away!”

“Aha!!” I exclaimed. “I knew there was always ‘that person’ in any office!”

We all giggled while she left to get Dr. Radiation. As I changed, I felt completely comfortable. I was hoping I had done everything right to get better. I was hoping he wouldn’t be able to see the tumor anymore.

I was happy when I saw my doctor and Nurse Angel come into the room. As nervous as I was becoming, these were the people who I trusted with my life. I felt safe with them. Even better, I had Andee there to hold my hand as my nerves began to take over.

“I was hoping when I came here for my appointment that I would be able to say I’m running three miles again like I was before, but no. I am still sore from walking.” I couldn’t help but smile at them. “I know you said I would be around 80% in six weeks and I really think I’m close to that.”

Dr. Radiation was happy to hear how well I was doing over all.

I asked him if he would be able to see where my ovaries were when I would eventually get my PET scan. I let him know about the cramping that occurred a few weeks earlier. He found that fascinating, but told me the ovary questions would be better answered by my surgeon, since she was the one that moved them and understood the process better.

“My friend Pal says that when my ovaries drop, my voice might change.” They burst out laughing. I always loved how they got my humor.

We then began to get ready for the inevitable.

“I wore special socks for you doc!” I showed him the Marvin the Martian socks my cousin Lovey had sent me. “I thought it would be funny if Marvin was staring at you during the exam.”

“I see that. Great socks!” He exclaimed. “I’m actually going to check your stomach first and then we will begin the examination.”

I got my first moment of shyness when he started to feel around my belly. He had to make sure that he had no concerns about everything on the inside and that the scars were still healing nicely. I was glad he didn’t find anything suspicious, but I couldn’t help thinking that the vagina exam was so much easier than someone pressing on your tummy. No one likes their vagina being looked at, but then again, no one thinks about how fat their vagina might feel. I guess there really is no winning when it comes to being examined.

The exam was quick and painless. While I held Andee’s hand, I could feel her squeeze mine as she watched the doctor’s expressions.

“Everything looks 100% better than the last time I saw you,” he said happily.

“Yay!!!” I squeezed Andee’s hand back.

“You are perfect,” he further explained and then let me have my decency back.

“I can’t believe it! I’m a girl again!!!” We all laughed in pure happiness.

He explained that they would contact me to schedule my PET scan and my next check-up appointment. He let me know that we needed to wait at least two more weeks for me to heal from the radiation, but we shouldn’t wait more than three weeks for the scan.

“The PET scan will glow where there is any cancer in your body, but it will also glow in areas treated with radiation. We expect to see the cervix glow, since we hit it so hard with radiation. What we don’t want to see is anything outside of the cervix glowing. That would mean that there is still cancer in areas we haven’t treated.”

“What happens if we see something glow outside of my cervix?” The question came out of my mouth before I realized I didn’t want to know the answer.

“Then we will have to treat that area. It’s extremely rare that I see this happen. Try not to think about that possibility for now,” he said kindly. But, he had still said it…”extremely rare”…Every time something with this stupid cancer didn’t go the way we hoped, a phrase like that had been said. Panic started to form in the back of my head, but I tried desperately to just hold onto the moment…the moment I was 100% better/perfect in the eyes of my doctor.

“It looks like you are healing well. You will see Dr. Surgeon for your next three month appointment. So, I won’t see you again for six months. Do you have any questions for me?”

I asked him for a doctor’s note saying that I could return to work full-time. He agreed that I should be able to do that, considering how well I was healing so far.

As he and Nurse Angel were leaving the room, I looked at Andee and started to laugh. She was all balled up and clasping her hands with the happiest look on her face. She was trying her hardest to hold in the tears, but they were starting to slip out.

I laughed at her of course and said, “Are you okay? Do you need a hug?!” As she started to laugh at my response, the tears poured out of both of us. We were one step closer.

We got to celebrate with my cousin Brian that evening at dinner, knowing that more celebrations were going to be had over the weekend.

Lindsay was on her way for Andee and Heath’s Cinco de Mayo party!!!

The party was something Andee, Pal, and Heath had started to plan and invite people to around Week 3 of my treatments. They kept saying things like, “We are going to celebrate that Maria is cancer free on Cinco de Mayo!” I was starting to feel absolutely horrible at this time and didn’t know how to politely explain to their happy, convinced and optimistic faces that I most likely won’t be cancer free by that date. I had learned from my co-worker who had ovarian cancer that it could be a couple of months after treatment before I would know anything. It was taking everything in me to get out of bed in the morning and here they were planning a party I couldn’t fathom, while also luring people from all over to celebrate my pathetic self.

“I know you guys are planning a Cinco de Mayo party in my honor, but I need you to leave me out of it.” I obviously never figured out how to be polite about it. I told this to Andee after one of the many appointments she took me to, while she sat in my kitchen and tried to make up for the work she had missed.

“But sister,” she pleaded with tears in her eyes, “We know you are going to be okay. We just need a little something for ourselves, so that we can see the light at the end of all of this.”

“Just have a Cinco de Mayo party, but please don’t mention me at all. There is a good chance we won’t know if I am cancer free by then. I am doing my best just to make it to these stupid appointments. I can’t have the pressure of ruining Cinco de Mayo on me as well.” I could hear myself say the words and knew how much they hurt Andee, but I was too tired to be polite.

“Okay.” She cried a little more and let me know that she felt like she couldn’t do anything right…that the group just needed something happy to look forward to. We eventually found a compromise that they were allowed to think of it as my “free from cancer” party, but it was not to be talked about around me while I was in treatment.

My sister is a saint for dealing with me during my treatments. All of my people were. So, they continued to plan for the party and Andee made sure to invite Lindsay from Nashville, explaining that I wouldn’t let it be a party about me. Lindsay jumped at the chance to hang out with us, not at all surprised by my behavior, and immediately bought a plane ticket while she and Andee were texting.

Although I was right, and we didn’t know if I was cancer free by Cinco de Mayo, Andee was also right. We had all needed some sort of celebration – especially those that looked after me day after day.

Shenanigans were had!!!

Week 7: Goal was 10,000 steps a day.

All too soon it was time to go back to work. My brother Ray had asked me about three weeks into my healing period if I was dreading going back to work.

“No. I’m excited to feel like a normal member of society again. I just want to be normal again if that makes sense.”

“Well, we will have to see about that when the day comes,” he laughed at me.

Sure enough, he was right. Although I was excited to go back to work and be normal again, I had also gotten to taste a lot of life and freedom in that healing period. The one thing about being normal and at work is that you start to think about all of the fun you could be having if you weren’t at work.

But my co-workers welcomed me with open arms. They were all genuinely happy to see me back and in such good shape. I would say that I was at 85% during that first week back at work.

They covered my office with decorations and even brought in flowers, which made my office smell delicious. Latrice brought me a bottle of wine. Katie, who had moved to DC while I was “away”, had also made sure to leave me something to remember her by.

It felt like no time had passed at all. It felt like I had a really bad dream, followed by a really good dream, and then it was time to go back to work.

The only way that I could tell time had passed, and that something had happened to me, was by my body’s reaction. I was not used to sitting up at a desk all day anymore. So, my hips would get really stiff while I sat. After that first day, my abs also felt like I had been working out all day. The next morning, it was hard for me to get out of bed because I was so sore.

Walking every couple of hours to stretch my muscles really helped. I was trying to build up to 10,000 steps a day in order to see how my body could handle it before trying to run again. After four days at work, the soreness finally began to go away. I was starting to feel closer to 95% better.

That Friday, I kissed Kevin goodbye as he went to work. I told him that I was going to go for a little walk to get my body moving before I headed out. As I put on my headphones and started my walk, I felt my muscles telling me that I could do it. I turned off my audible and I put on one of my favorite songs while I was sick. One that helped me snap out of my funk so many mornings.

To me, it was a love song to life. I felt like Selena Gomez was singing about holding onto life and holding on tight.

As her voice began to sing,

Can’t keep my hands to myself

No matter how hard I’m trying to

I want you all to myself

Your metaphorical gin and juice

I started to feel my feet under me go a little quicker.

So come on give me a taste

Of what it’s like to be next to you

Won’t let one drop go to waste

Your metaphorical gin and juice…

I started to feel the wind in my face.

….I’m trying I’m trying I’m trying

Can’t keep my hands to myself…

 

I started to feel my hair bouncing. It was something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

…You should know if I could,

I’d breathe you in every single day…

I started to cry out of joy and pure amazement at what I was doing.

Can’t keep my hands to myself…

I was running!!!!

I want it all or nothing else

Give me your all and nothing else.

I can do this! I am doing this!

I want it all…

I want it all…

I want it all…

Can’t keep my hands to myself

I mean I could but why would I want to?

Take that cancer! Take that!!!

Part XIV – Hurry Up and Wait (August 11, 2018)

Waiting. Waiting is something that I have never mastered as an adult, or even when pretending to be an adult. Has anyone? Unfortunately, waiting was something that I had unwillingly become all too accustomed to and I was done with it.

I was so happy that I could run again, because even though it wasn’t fast, it was definitely nice to get back to a pace that was no longer considered…waiting.

I had waited in doctors’ offices. I had waited while the radiation machinery worked…or didn’t work. I had waited while nurses found my veins…or didn’t. I had waited while the chemo went through my system. I had waited while the bowel prep did its business. I had waited until I could feel my legs again. I had waited for the nausea to dissipate.

And I had waited until I could see my family again.

Most of all though, I had waited and waited for the moment when I would feel better…the moment when I would again see who I once was before all of this began. And, once I got a taste of that girl again, all I wanted to do was go out into the world and never look back.

NO MORE WAITING. I had done my part, and I was done waiting.

That being said…we actually all needed to wait a little bit longer. I was still waiting to take my PET scan, and even after that happened, I would have to wait for the results before I would truly know that I was out of the dark.

So, what better way to wait, than to distract myself? And distract myself I did, because I was fortunate enough to have friends to help fulfill that role while I waited…and waited…and waited.

It started with a movie night. I had missed out on seeing the new 50 Shades of Grey while I was sick. Chelsea (a member of Team Tubin) had tried to meet up with me. But at that time, I couldn’t stick it out for a whole movie anymore and I had to cancel my date with her. So, when I offered to host a girls’ night with only those who had read the books, she was right by my side.

Now, I know what you’re thinking reader….why do woman even like the 50 Shades of Grey books? Well, I am here to tell you that is something you don’t need to worry about. All you need to know is that we had a blast! My Chelsea, my Sydney, and some wine and cheese. When you put wine, cheese, and a fun movie in front of anyone, it’s amazing how waiting suddenly becomes doable.

Also around this time, my Kevin had started to play hockey again. It’s important to know that hockey to Kevin is the equivalent of theatre to me. I crave the stage and he craves the rink. I was so proud to watch him in action again. It helped a lot for me to be able to yell at the ice and excitedly watch the game. It gave me three periods of blissful entertainment while I waited…and I could honestly wait forever as long as I was watching my Kevin.

Next, Pal and Andee had become fascinated by Meghan Markle and Prince Harry’s upcoming wedding. Is it possible that they were just distracting me while I was waiting…who cares?!?! I had a blast watching the cheesy Lifetime movie that was filmed just for the event, and also later when we watched the wedding live (along with their fun commentary)!

Not only did I get to watch the royal wedding with Pal and Andee’s incredible play-by-play, but I also got to watch it in South Dakota – a state that I had never been able to visit before. That’s because during this same weekend, one of Andee’s best friends was going through a life changing moment of her own. Her first son was graduating from high school. Months before cancer had decided to intervene, we had all planned a trip to South Dakota to see her family and congratulate them in person. It was also a bucket list item for me because it included a visit to Mount Rushmore. And, to top it off, my cousin also lived out there and we got to stop by and see her roots.

All of our family and friends in South Dakota were so amazing. Good people, good memories, good food, and a good view is always helpful when confronted with any type of waiting situation.

Soon, my PET scan was around the corner. When we last met, Dr. Radiation had thought that the PET scan office would call me and schedule the appointment. Since I was accustomed to waiting at this point, and even though I thought I knew better, I held off on following up. After a week though, I went and looked back at all of the paperwork Dr. Surgery had given me for the first PET scan. That time, I had to set up the appointment on my own. I still had the number, so I called. Sure enough, they explained to me that they don’t set up the appointments. They only take them. They could see the order from Dr. Radiation, but it was up to me to schedule the scan itself.

Dr. Radiation had recommended that I don’t wait longer than 3 weeks after my last exam. I followed his instructions and made the appointment so that it fell right after our trip. That would be exactly 3 weeks from the time I last saw him. Dr. Radiation also wanted the swelling to be down as much as possible. So, I talked to my dad about what I could do on my end to make that happen. He told me to avoid heavy exercise. Sadly, this meant that I should not be running the week of the scan. Even though I wasn’t running very far, a ten minute run would still show up and possibly confuse the results. I also made sure to take Ibuprofen about 8 hours before my visit, and I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything (other than water) for at least 6 hours before the appointment.

I was scared. I had tasted life and now here was the scan that could take it all away from me. I was not ready to hand over the reins again so easily. I was going to have to face it alone too, because I told Andee that I didn’t need her there. I felt like I had already forced her to sit long enough in waiting rooms. Plus, I remembered that they wouldn’t let her in the back with me for this one. This one I had to do by myself.

When the day came, I prayed a lot that entire morning. I also couldn’t stop shaking. I decided to wear my prayer shawl to the appointment, because I couldn’t fathom what was ahead of me. I had gotten a little dark during those few days leading up to the PET scan. I was tired of waiting. I was tired of being optimistic. And, I was tired of cancer.

I was preparing for the worst. I had to.

The last time around, I had assumed it was going to be the best “worst case” scenario and it wasn’t. It was the worst “worst case” scenario. Chemo and radiation had taken optimism and naivety away from me. So, all I had with me that day I walked back into the hospital, was the prayer shawl wrapped around me and the continual love, prayers, positive thoughts, and memories of my loved ones.

As it turned out, I was running a little behind because of construction on the road. When I started feeling frustrated, I kept telling myself that I needed to be thankful I could even drive myself. I was finally at the point where I didn’t need to force someone to drive me to my appointment. I could just inconvenience myself instead.

Andee called to check on me while I was driving. I told her not to worry. I was just running a little late, but I would call her later when I was settled. I could feel myself shaking with dread, as I kept thinking about the inevitable needle that was about to enter my body and deliver its straight forward message of possible gloom.

I had this weird chant going through my head, “Be thankful you can drive yourself. Be thankful you haven’t had a needle in a few weeks. Be thankful you got to live a little. Be thankful you got to work again. Be thankful you got through this construction. Be thankful you got to hold your mom, brothers, and nieces. Be thankful for the trips you got to take. Be thankful you are not naive anymore….”

Obviously…I was freaking out and having a hard time talking myself out of the panic that was closing in.

I parked, walked into the building, and went straight to the familiar kiosk to check in. There were about five of them all in a line. I picked one in the middle, but soon it felt like there was someone waiting right behind me. I was trying to rush, but was completely confused why this person didn’t just go to another kiosk. My hands kept shaking and pushing the wrong numbers. As my frustration grew, I became more annoyed with the person waiting for my kiosk. I finally turned around to tell them to please just go to another one because I was having trouble. It was then that I saw my precious sister standing there, looking beautiful as always, and smiling encouragingly at me.

Suddenly, my shaky hands calmed and I could feel the strength coming back and the panic start to dissipate. I quickly went in for the hug that I desperately needed.

“I was about to yell at you to go to another kiosk!” I laughed. “I had no idea it was you! I’m so happy you’re here!”

Andee expressed her relief that I wasn’t mad she had come, even though I had told her not to.

“That was why I called. I got here early and was worried that I had missed you,” she explained.

“No. The stupid construction made me late. I’m so happy you are here. I feel bad though. You have missed so much work because of me and still have to sit in the waiting room the entire time!”

“That’s okay!” she said happily. “I can balance my checkbook. Lex won’t let me do that in peace anymore at home.”

Truthfully, this was a weird behavior my sister’s dog had picked up over time. Actually, Lex had several weird traits when it came to Andee, as he didn’t like her to pretty much do anything. You would think I’m exaggerating, but I’m sorry to say that I’m not. The dog hates everything. (He is a bit spoiled.) Andee can’t close the blinds, cook, clean the kitchen, balance her checkbook, or talk to him too much. My sister has learned to live life constantly being barked at by Lex. Come to think of it…it makes perfect sense now that she was able to handle me at my most difficult. If she can handle her crazy dog, then she can handle any grumpy human being.

If I wasn’t already running late, I would have started to cry from the relief of seeing her. Since I had completely forgotten that I needed to get my sugar level checked before the PET scan, we rushed to the lab for one extra needle that I hadn’t planned on. Luckily, there wasn’t a line and the girl was really gentle. Next, we hurried to my PET scan appointment and made it just in time for me to start filling out the patient form. We had barely sat down when they called me to go back. I hated leaving Andee, but this time around, I knew that it was better for her to stay away from the radiation. This time, I wasn’t as spunky. This time, I knew the drill.

Before I left her behind, Andee offered me her favorite hoody. It is a Counting Crows hoody that I always borrow whenever possible while I’m at her house. It was the one thing that she wouldn’t let me sneak home though, because she loved it so much.

“I brought this for you…for good luck. If you want it.” She held it out to me with tears in her eyes.

“I would love to take it back. I need all the luck I can get!” I smiled at her and held onto it tight, as I went down the now familiar hallway.

I had been through so much to get to this room again. I had fought, been poked, had multiple surgeries, ate, drank water, pooped my brains out, puked, bruised and healed, and learned to run again. I had done everything the doctors had told me to do. Now, all I could do was choose a movie to watch and wait to see if it had worked.

I chose one of my favorites, My Big Fat Greek Wedding. I couldn’t really watch it though. I was too scared. Instead, it helped to look at Facebook and read all of the encouraging comments from people. Andee had been keeping everyone posted on my status. I sent them a picture of me in the chair and thanked them all.

I gathered all my courage to take both my prayer shawl and Andee’s hoodie off when it was time to lie still on the table. I closed my eyes and fervently prayed while it slowly started to move me through the machinery.

And then, something happened…

As I was lying there, I suddenly felt a hand on my forehead. It was as if someone was gently touching me to let me know that everything was going to be okay. I softly smiled and kept my eyes closed. I knew who it was…I had a beautiful feeling that it was my Uncle Davy. I could almost hear his voice.

He was comforting me.

It was in that moment that I was finally able to relax.

When the scan was over, the technician let me know that I would hear from the doctor in 48 hours.

“Even though it’s Memorial Day and today is Thursday?” I asked knowingly.

“Oh, yeah…you’re right,” she replied sadly. “The soonest you’ll hear back then, will be Tuesday.” She gave me a sympathetic look.

I remembered that I had to wait about a week the last time. So, I didn’t get my hopes up that Tuesday would be the day. That would be too easy. At this point, waiting seemed to be the only norm for me.

“How did it go?” Andee asked when I made it back to her.

“I think it went well. But it felt a lot longer this time around, even though the timing was the same,” I confessed.

“It felt like a long time to me too!” she admitted.

We decided that since this was the appointment everything had been leading up to, it must have made the time tick by much slower for us.

Now we needed to wait for the results. I went to Andee’s house like we did after the first PET scan. We ordered Chinese food and drank some prosecco, hoping for the best.

As I sat on her incredible patio looking at the sky in all its glory, I had to admit to her how scared I was…that if the scans came back bad, I didn’t think I was going to be able to go through the process all over again. She let me cry with her, allowing me to be scared while the emotions that had been building up for months finally spilled over.

Sometimes, it’s good to let yourself cry while you wait. I couldn’t cry for long though. I had things to do.

Kevin and I had tickets for a concert the next day. It was the same band we saw at Halloween a few months before, while the doctors were trying to figure out what was wrong with me…the same band that we missed, while I lay in bed healing from surgery…the same band that thankfully did a small acoustic concert while I was in the heart of radiation and chemo. Now, I would be able to see them again when I was possibly cancer free and able to stand for the entire thing!

That Saturday, we had another friend whose son was entering the “real world” (as teachers call it). She was having a graduation party for him, so I went over to Andee and Heath’s. We were planning to drive over to her house together.

Unfortunately, it turned out that there was a really bad car accident in their neighborhood. This accident had then caused a domino effect of multiple people losing their patience and getting into car accidents of their own. We were stuck and unable to make it out of their street. By the time we would have made it to the party, we would have needed to turn around and come back.

I couldn’t help but see the humor in the situation. Here we were, a group of people sick of waiting, watching a whole neighborhood unable to fathom the concept. The irony was that those who refused to wait ended up having to wait even longer.

The next day, Kevin and I decided to have a BBQ for Memorial Day weekend. We invited the gang over for the night before heading out to lunch, followed by grocery shopping. We ended up at the same store where I had the fateful diarrhea incident. This time though, it was nice to walk those aisles again completely unconcerned about my body and more focused on burgers and hot dogs.

We had a great time together, just eating and watching movies. The next morning, I was super happy to wake up and find the Denver gang and all of their dogs sleeping downstairs. We decided to be lazy for the entire day and watch even more movies.

Towards the end of Memorial Day, I found myself spilling my guts to Erin. Something about a patio, the view of the sky, and a gentle breeze made me admit that I couldn’t fathom treatment again. She let me cry it out, just like Andee had a few days before. The waiting was getting to me. I couldn’t hold in the tears and fear anymore. It’s one thing to go into chemo and radiation and learn from the process day-by-day. It’s another thing entirely though to know exactly what was in store for you if you had to do it again.

It reminds me of one of those “Would you rather” questions. Would you rather cut off your left pinky or go back to high school and do it all over again? Some people actually believe their pinky is dispensable when confronted with the horrors of teenage adolescence.

During the many weeks of waiting, I had a discussion with my brother Ray. I admitted to him that I was worried about what I would do if I had to go through another round of treatment. I was really concerned about work, because I had already missed four months the first time around.

“I think I’ll have to work part time while I go through treatment. There is no way I can take off that much time again.” I said this in my best no-nonsense voice.

“Okay. Do you think you would have been able to work during that last run of chemo and radiation?”

“Oh, hell no!” I exclaimed. “I can’t even imagine working.”

“Do you know that you need to go through treatment for sure again?” he then asked me.

“No….” I said, knowing full well that he was calling me out on my erratic thinking.

“Then stop worrying about things that you don’t need to worry about,” he said pointedly. “Stop being so dramatic.”

I had to laugh at his talent for directness. I also had to laugh because I WAS being dramatic. It was exactly what I needed to hear in that moment. It was time to get out of this doom and gloom frame of mind.

Needless to say though, I never really did – hence the crying on patios with nice girls who would never call their friend dramatic.

Sometimes, you just need to cry it out. And sometimes, you need someone to tell you to chill the hell out. I was lucky enough to have both sets of people in my life…people who let me be what I needed to be from one moment to the next.

I woke up the morning after Memorial Day trying to put the inevitable phone call out of my mind, so I could follow my brother’s wise advice from weeks before. As long as the verdict wasn’t that I was still sick, I could move forward through life and pretend that I never was.

So, I went through my usual routine. I slept in a little too long, got up and rushed to get ready for the day, made my lunch, and finally headed to my car. I called Andee on the way to work. Since we hadn’t talked in about 12 hours, I was starting to feel out of the loop with her.

That was when it happened.

“Oh my gosh sister! I think that’s the doctor’s office on the other line!” I anxiously told her while I was driving.

“Oh! Get it! I love you!” she said and quickly hung up.

I switched lines.

“Hello!” I tried to sound as happy as possible…like I hadn’t been dreading this phone call since the first needle had pierced my skin.

“Maria, it’s Dr. Radiation. How are you doing?” In that moment, I realized that I had never heard his voice over the phone before. He sounded the same. I felt like I was safe and in his office, but instead, I was driving. I knew that I needed to keep my head on straight. I was at a point where I couldn’t just pull over to the side of the road.

“I’m doing good. Super nervous, but good. How are you doing?” I asked him.

“Oh crap!” I shouted in my head. “When Dr. Surgery got the PET scan results and we thought it hadn’t spread, she didn’t call. She had someone in her office call. This is Dr. Radiation calling me himself. He has to break the bad news.”

“I’m doing well,” he answered. “I have some good news.” I could hear the smile in his voice and immediately had tears in my eyes.

“You do?” I squeaked.

“The PET scan came back completely clear. Even the residuals we expected to see in the cervical area were clean.”

“OH MY GOD!!!” I started to laugh and scream and cry all at once. I was shaking! “THANK YOU!!! THANK YOU!!!” (insert more hysterical laughter). Luckily, I was on a straight road. “Wait. Just because I need to hear it…you’re saying that I’m in remission, right?”

“Yes,” he said while also laughing.

“AAAAGGGHHH!!! I NEED TO BUY YOU GUYS MORE CANDY!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! THANK YOU!!!”

“Happy to have helped. Now take care of yourself. You will be seeing Dr. Surgery in about three months. I will see you in six.”

“Okay! THANK YOU! I’ll see you later. I must go shout this out to the world now!” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Okay. Bye. Have a good day.” He was still as stoic and professional as always, even though I was screaming nonstop.

“Goodbye Dr. Radiation! THANK YOU AGAIN!!! AAGGHH!!!” I heard him laugh one more time before he hung up.

I don’t think I’ve ever shook that way before. It was an uncontrollable shake that came from utter happiness. I couldn’t stop screaming either. I sat in my car and cried and screamed and laughed and shook. All that waiting…and I didn’t lose any time.

I knew I had to call Andee back before she thought the news was bad. She had been waiting all this time alongside me and I had to make sure she didn’t wait anymore either.

I then began to call or text everyone I knew. I reached out to my immediate family first, then everyone else I could think of – anyone that had sent me a gift, text, phone call, or Facebook message. Anyone that had visited. Eventually though, I had to go back to work. So, I sadly missed some people who deserved a phone call. But, they enthusiastically congratulated me on the Facebook post I sent out to the group.

It takes a village. My village had grown during this ordeal. My village was now a beautiful city of love and support.

After I had notified so many of my loved ones through phone calls and email, I ran down the hall to share the amazing news with my boss and coworkers –who were also an ever present part of my “city village”.

And then, I sent out an email to the rest of my work team:

Hello!

To those that were unable to hear me shouting down the halls…I received the phone call today that I am cancer free!!!

Thank you all for being there for me during this crazy trial! The flowers, gifts, prayers, love and positive thoughts worked!!!

I’M CANCER FREE!!!!

I was still shaking…and it felt wonderful.

Part XV – The Aftershocks: A Year Later (May 29, 2019)

So, here I am, a year after my treatment and still healthy and alive! Although a year doesn’t seem like very long, I can’t begin to explain how much I have treasured every single day since then and how much I try not to take a single second for granted.

It’s hard to explain how painful and emotional it can be to look back at those months I was in treatment. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night in shock that I am no longer there. For a brief moment, I think I just had a really bad dream….but there are so many memories, scars, and tattoos that let me know I am not crazy. I went through something, but I am still alive. The scars are healed, the tattoos are almost forgotten, and the memories are just that….memories. Sometimes, when I am alone for the briefest of moments, the memories of what happened wash through me and I feel so relieved and grateful that I start to cry from so much happiness. I’M ALIVE!!!

With that happiness though, there is a completely other side to surviving. I didn’t realize exactly what I was going through until my friend Erin pointed it out. I was willing to be interviewed for a paper she was writing for school because she is studying to achieve her Masters in Counseling. I must say, she is going to be amazing, She nailed something I was suffering from and I didn’t even realize it until she gave it a name.

Guilt.

Why me? I have watched some beautiful souls get taken by cancer.

I still hear my uncle’s voice in my head encouraging me to continue on, and I can’t forget what it felt like to lose him while I was in the darkest place of my life…

I can hear my grandpa singing…

I see Toby bouncing around with joy at the sight of food…

I feel the outline of Stout lying against me in support, while I cried about what was happening or shook from pain.

Why do I get to experience food, wine, and life when they all suffered and lost? It isn’t fair. I can’t help but think that I don’t deserve to be here. And those are only a few of the people and animals that I have lost to cancer. I can’t comprehend how many other lives have been ruined by this horrible disease.

I have heard stories of women who have lost so much more than I did. I lost my running capabilities. They lost organs. I lost four months, while others lost years. Some lost the chance to be mothers, but I never wanted to be one. Why me? What did I do to deserve this beautiful life?

I sometimes feel like my friends and family missed out on their lives while they cared for me. Although they chose to be by my side, should I have forced them to experience all life had to offer instead? Should I have told them not to waste a second of this precious life we have experiencing my daily appointments, helping me eat, sitting by me while I slept? Was I selfish for accepting their love and willingness to suffer alongside me?

I know that feeling this way may seem ridiculous. When I was sick, every piece of advice I was given was to let the people that love me help me. I could never have made it through this without them, but I still feel guilty for taking that time from them. I feel guilty for putting them through the pain of watching me get sick, even though I had no control over it.

And I regret that I wasn’t able to be there for my friends and family who suffered losses, grief, or pain before I even became sick. Although I’m thankful that I now have the ability to understand and empathize in a way I couldn’t before having cancer, I feel guilty that I might not have been there for them in the way they needed me before all of this happened.

Once Erin gave it a name, I was able to identify what I had been feeling and no longer let it constantly consume me. I’m still working through the guilt, but I think it’s important that survivors know that it can sneak up on you. Regardless though, I’m not afraid to remember my lost friends and family every day. I will take every special day that has been gifted to me and continue to love them. As long as I’m alive, their memory will be too.

And along with those memories are opportunities to make new ones with the people that are still very much with me today. So, it’s important to treasure, love, and visit those that are still here by my side.

That’s right. I don’t want to take anything for granted and I truly hope to live my life to the fullest. And one way to do this is to be the healthiest version of Maria possible.

It was time to nourish both my body and soul.

LIVING TO EAT – When I first learned that I was cancer free, I decided to take my own advice and let myself, “Get a little fat”. I don’t regret it one bit. I needed those extra pounds to remember how everything tasted once upon a time. However, eventually I needed to lose the weight that was so fun to gain because I wanted to take care of this body that hadn’t failed me. Luckily for me, I have the most amazing “village” at the ready. My brother Joey and his wife Danielle had decided to get Joey to a happy and healthy weight too. He tested the waters of the Weight Watchers program and convinced me to join. At first it was torture. I just wanted bread and pasta and as much wine as I desired. But, after learning all of the amazing things that I could eat (I had even more choices than before), portion control became a new version of adulting. I sometimes joke that it is the Sophie’s choice of weight-loss programs, but it really is manageable. On some days, instead of dessert, I’ll get a glass of wine…on others, I choose the dessert.  And it worked! After meeting my weight goal, weekends became free game again. The irony though is that even when I wasn’t counting points, I began to make healthier decisions. Good job Weight Watchers!

[Oh! And in case you’re wondering – no, they are not sponsoring me in any way. This is just one girl’s adventure around maintaining a healthy weight. What works for me, may not work for you.]

PUSHING TOWARDS NEW FINISH LINES – Before I got sick, running had been one of my go-to’s for staying in shape. Even though I can still run, I’m not as fast as I was back in November 2017. I often wonder if this is because of my treatment, or if it’s just because I’m getting older. Either way, although I might not ever be as strong a runner as I was then, I have found that walking makes me just as happy – and I also think it’s the reason I no longer feel pain in my hips. They stopped becoming stiff throughout the day around 6 months after my treatment. My new pace is still keeping me healthy and that’s all that matters. My friends and I are even preparing to run a 5K for ovarian cancer in honor of my friend and co-worker, who suffered through treatment a few months before I did.

It’s funny…participating in this race is the exact thing I told everyone we wouldn’t do that day long ago when I gave them the bad news. I feel so differently now though, because we HAVE to do something – ANYTHING to get the word out there that cancer is a mother f’er and that we won’t sit by and just let it happen. Because, being silent is not an option anymore for me. I am just ONE woman’s story. There are others though who still need the support I was lucky to have (and still have) from my village. So, we will gladly walk, jog, or run to a finish line for them.

SEEING THE WORLD, BEING ON STAGE, & FALLING IN LOVE AGAIN – I now know that I literally need to get out there and experience everything I have ever dreamed of doing. I didn’t think I had anything left on my bucket list when I was diagnosed and going into that OR room for the first time. After weeks of thinking what I might want to do when I got out of treatment though, I decided I really wanted to go to London to see the Globe theatre. I also wanted to go to Salem, MA for Halloween. And it’s happening! My trip to Salem is booked for this year! And the gang knows to start saving their pennies for a trip to London in 2020.

As an actress, I will always continue to dream of the stage. I know with my whole heart that I will never give that part of me up. I’m so proud to say that I was finally able to return to that beautiful place this April, with my dear “village” supporting me along the way (flowers, cocktails, and lots of hugs were all present too!).

With loss, comes the chance for new beginnings. And nothing makes life better than getting a puppy. Ironically, I lost my doggie Stout to cancer shortly after learning I was in remission. The sadness that took her place was a constant reminder of the unconditional love she had given me. Life always has a plan though. Six months later, Kevin and I stumbled upon a Newfoundland puppy. We knew right away he was meant to be ours. We named him Odin and I like to think that Stout had a hand in bringing him to us. I still miss Stout dearly…every day…but Odin has truly helped to give my life a new meaning. I have taken all of the grief from losing her and turned it into love. I must admit that Odin is a bit spoiled with this “new Maria” who cherishes every moment, but I’m sure he doesn’t mind.

MY NEW TRUTH – Now it isn’t all rainbows and sunshine. Every three month appointment is a nerve racking experience, as I have a hard time dealing with the fear that it can all come crashing down again. I have learned that a routine appointment can change your life. So, I try really hard to be ready for the worst news every time I go. It can just be so difficult to think that everything is always going to be okay, when I have experienced the exact opposite.

This is why you need to surround yourself with annoyingly positive people. They won’t let you go down that dark “what if” road. They will let you plan a scenario where you may need to book a quick trip to London on a whim, but they won’t let you buy that ticket until the emergency sirens go off. They keep you humble. They keep you looking towards the future, even when you are scared you don’t have one to count on. Most of all, they will buy a ticket right alongside you if the occasion calls for it.

All things considered, so far my appointments have gone very well. One key development occurred at 6 months into remission, when I was told I needed to keep up with my “stretching exercises”. This is a polite way to explain to you, the reader, that I have scar tissue constantly developing after the amount of radiation I received. This is not a huge concern, as it’s the least challenging symptom I could be tackling. These exercises are not fun though (and also the last thing a girl in my situation would want to do). However, they are necessary and very important. They are also awkward, since they involve stretching the cervix with a dilator so that scar tissue doesn’t form to a point where things “close up” – so to speak. In fact, without these exercises, it could become impossible for my doctors to get the amazing show they get every three months! [Let’s just say, things get “toit” as my favorite police detective Jake Peralta from Brooklyn 99 would describe at the scene of the crime.]

I also had a scare around 10 months, when I noticed a lot of random spotting. As someone who was told they may never have a period again, I became very nervous that I was in trouble again. The whole reason I went on an IUD was because of random spotting – which actually could have been the first sign that my cervix was not happy. The first sign of cancer. And here I was again ruining perfectly new underwear and feeling like a 13-year-old girl who was unsure of what the heck was going on with her body.

I promptly went to see Dr. Radiation, who sat down and tried to explain something to me in his most stern “Dr. Radiation” voice.

“There is a chance that your ovaries are shutting down.” I could tell that he didn’t want me to joke around. He didn’t want me to brush this off. He knew me too well for my own antics.

And just like that I went from feeling 13 to feeling like I was hitting 50.

“But doc!,” I immediately tried to defend my ovaries. “I feel fine. I have had no hot flashes. I have been emotionally stable, even for my usually dramatic self. I really don’t think there is any shutting down happening. I think I’m becoming a woman again or something.”

No one can shut down my sense of humor, no matter how dire the circumstances.

I saw him release some of the tension in his shoulders once I revealed these details. Then he said he would examine me and see what he could find.

I have never been so relieved. We found out that some of the vaginal wall blood vessels had become fragile due to the radiation changes. I will now spot randomly, not because I am having a period, but because of these affected blood vessels.

“So I don’t need to go home and yell at my ovaries for giving up on me?!” I was ecstatic!

I’d need to use panty liners more often now, but I’ll take it! I’m all in! The cancer wasn’t coming back and I was keeping the hormones my ovaries were naturally supplying.

“Thank you so much Doc. I’m still sad about the underwear that I’ve ruined, but I’ll live!”

And it’s true. I’ll live. I’m alive and I plan on doing everything in my power to keep it that way.

Because I really do want to deserve this second chance at life.

How COVID-19 Turned Me Into a Responsible Adult

“Maria, you shouldn’t be out at the bar. This corona thing is serious!” My older sister was urgently trying to warn me on the other end of the line, while I enjoyed some wine at my favorite bar. She had been watching the news diligently, an activity that I detest, and had already stocked up on all the essentials. She and my brother-in-law, Heath, made it known the night before at my house that they did not plan on going out anymore until this corona thing was handled.

“Andee, I’m fine. They are wiping everything down. Everyone is being respectful of space. No one is coughing or anything. I think it’s fine.”

The other patrons at the bar and myself were absolutely shocked by how some people were handling this. No way were things going to escalate to a point where they shut down the restaurants and bars, right? That just seemed like a storyline out of a movie. Besides, I had beat cancer two years before. If there was one thing I didn’t want to do, it was to stay shut up in my house unable to go out and have some fun with friends due to a fear of germs. I played that game before when I was on chemo. But, I was healthy now and would do anything to avoid that situation again.

And I knew how to wash my hands. I actually even still sang the birthday song on a regular basis. It was habit now.

Two days before, my job had made it mandatory for everyone to work remotely for two weeks. It was a very fitting Friday the 13^th, which is one of my favorite days of the year whenever it shows up. So, my co-workers and I decided to have one last hurrah and went to happy hour! Two weeks is a long time not to see each other after all. Later that night, I even ended up randomly go-kart racing with one of my friends. The next day was then followed up with a play date for my dog Odin and his favorite cousin Hannah (when Andee let me know they were going to start social distancing themselves). Kevin and I also ended up having a small get together at our house a couple of days later, so that we could celebrate St. Patty’s day. It was on a Tuesday this year, but we didn’t want to miss out just because it was a terrible day of the week for it to land on.

So, on that particular Sunday while I sat in the bar with some of my favorite people, I continued to get texts from two of my best friends. Like Andee, they were telling me I needed to go home and not be at a bar. Katie lived in LA and was seeing how drastically things were changing minute by minute. Lindsay was in Nashville and dealing with the repercussions of a tornado, as well as this virus. Instead of agreeing with them though, I defended my actions and used bad cooking as an excuse.

“Kevin and I don’t have food at home because everyone is hoarding here. So, now I need to eat here to survive.”

It was true. I was not the best cook. You will hear more on that later. Also, I hate shopping for groceries. There isn’t much to explain about that though. It’s just a fact. But, because of this, I honestly didn’t know how bad the stores were. I was just assuming.

However, while arguing with my best friends and my sister, the world started to shut down and I finally had to open my eyes to what was going on around me. By 3pm that day, New York had shut down all of their bars, restaurants, and schools. I started to ask our bartenders if they planned on closing down too. They all looked at me like I was crazy, the same way I had felt about five minutes earlier. Then one by one, the same mandated order started to happen around the US. But, instead of going home, my friends and I continued to drink and decided to just enjoy the moment. And so, for at least that evening, we hoped nothing more would change.

On my first official day of working from home, my co-workers started giving me updates about what was occurring in Denver County. All of the restaurants and bars were now closing too. They also let me know that the stores were looking bare. So, I went ahead and logged off for a bit to run to the store with Kevin before any closures hit our county. I was relieved to see that the stores were still decent. I couldn’t get my usual Weight Watcher friendly stuff, and there was no spaghetti, but they still had options. Of course, there was no toilet paper though – which was still something I couldn’t understand. Andee had warned me about this earlier. She was able to get some about a week before, when I wasn’t worried about such things.

“Kevin always buys toilet paper in bulk, so I’m sure we’re fine.” I finally checked though when we were all together on doggie-play-date Saturday and were talking about the way people were reacting to the coronavirus. While checking our stash, I was horrified to see that we only had 4 rolls out of the 38 that Kevin buys on the regular.

“Oh man! The one time he doesn’t overstock and we actually need it.” I was spoiled by never having to worry about it before. Kevin always took such good care of me when it came to common things like toilet tissue, toothpaste, soap, shampoo and conditioner. He always stocked the house with the basic items and I tried to keep some sort of food around. It wasn’t enough to feed us during a pandemic though. I usually only got enough for maybe a week of lunches and breakfast. We usually always ate out for dinner, so there was no need to overstock on that end.

Rule number one of growing up, start using the appropriate amount of toilet paper. Don’t be wasteful.

This seems like an odd thing to learn so late in life. I can’t lie. I feel amazingly wasteful after seeing how far we have been able to get those 4 rolls to stretch.

Around 6pm on that Monday, my friend who I had just seen one day prior because she is also a bartender, sent me a text saying that our bar was indeed closing its doors. They had made the decision to not do take-out orders either. Life as I had known it was officially completely different. Again.

Rule number two of growing up, start cooking at home.

I have some incredible friends and family that already did this on the regular. Andee and Heath made dinner together almost every night of the week, except for date night. And my sister-in-law, who was excelling in culinary school, was already a good cook before she decided to be a master at it. So, I knew my brother and his family would be just fine. Even my Denver crew all made an attempt to cook at home regularly to avoid spending too much money.

What about me though? Well, Kevin had to teach me how to cook hot dogs. No joke. During college, someone asked me what I knew how to cook and I told them, “Hot dogs and ravioli’s from the can.” My basic food source was chips. The only reason I even knew how to make guacamole was because I needed that for my chips! At some point, Andee taught me how to make enchiladas, but they were so much work that I usually only made them two or maybe three times a year. The only thing I cooked on the regular for Kevin was spaghetti, which he also had to teach me.

Once after feeling Zen about moving into our new place, I did try to make fried chicken…

It ended with fire fighters at our door.

After setting off the fire alarm, I opened our front door to see all of these men ready to roll. They looked very disappointed when I gave them my horrified “oops” look.

“Cooking attempt?” the lead fire fighter asked. He had an ax resting over his shoulders. His look said that I was maybe the third girl to try and cook that evening.

“Fried chicken” I replied sheepishly.

This might have been the most embarrassing moment in my life. (I have had several since though. Don’t worry.)

“The alarm is still under the previous owner, so I apologize that it alerted you guys. It took me too long to get the code from her.”

And so, Kevin came home to a new chore. He took out the alarm system that had alerted the fire station that his girlfriend was a bad cook. Peace was once again restored.

Since we got the shelter in place rule though, I have learned how to make banana bread from scratch and Chinese food! I was so happy it came out actually tasting like Chinese food too! I told my dad, “I didn’t even know what hoisin sauce was until today!”

One day, Kevin and I were craving bar food so bad, that we made homemade wings. And for our anniversary, instead of eating out for a special dinner, we had an “isolation Thanksgiving”. Kevin handled the food that day. Thanksgiving is his specialty. I’m happy to say that no fire fighters were harmed during the making of our Thanks-Anniversary.

But the changes going on around the country didn’t only affect our new eating routines. COVID-19 wasn’t only closing down restaurants and bars. It was now closing down most businesses.

Rule number three for growing up, have a steady job.

I’ve had to watch my little brother get laid off. I’ve watched my older brother make the painful decision to close the doors of his dental practice and be on call for emergencies only. My older sister was able to keep her job, but they took a 20% pay cut across the board. Although it was mandatory for me to work from home, I have been blessed to still have the same pay and same hours before all of this.

My dad told me one day, “Who would have thought you would be the responsible one?” He was joking, of course.

“You’re telling me dad! I always figured I was the sibling that was going to be an out of work actor that mooched off the rest of them. This corona thing is really putting things out of whack!”

My job has been there for me in more ways than most people should ever need. They were there for me when I was diagnosed and treated for cancer. They gave me the time off I needed to go through treatment and to heal. I was able to return to them fully in remission and with my job intact. Through all the worry and the pain of cancer, work was not something I had to add to the list of concerns. I still feel indebted to them for those four months. Now here they were, providing me with the stability of a job and income through this pandemic.

This has been a real blessing not only for me, but also for Kevin. On March 24^th, 11 days after my job told us we had to work from home, Kevin’s job was finally forced to send him home. It was sort of a double edged sword. I was so worried about him being out there and possibly exposed to the virus for so long. But now he was worried about what we would do financially. If I had to choose one over the other, it was an easy choice. I wanted him home and safe until this thing was over. We were going to be okay. We had some savings and I still had my job. Things were not hopeless. Different, but not hopeless.

Rule number four for growing up, drink responsibly.

The day before Kevin was laid off, Denver County made it mandatory that all non-essential businesses had to close. At the time, liquor and marihuana were also deemed “non-essential”.

That only lasted three hours.

People started to rush to the stores and get their supplies before everything closed down. A liquor store owner told one of my friends that they made more money that day than any other busy day they had seen – more than Thanksgiving, more than Christmas, more than St. Patrick’s Day, and even more than New Year’s Eve! In the end, Denver had to make liquor and marihuana essential again. The crowds of people at these stores was exactly what they were trying to avoid.

“I guess you could say Colorado was…on the rocks!” my dad joked. I told him that I knew I was in the right place now that liquor was mandatory. A girl needs her wine.

That being said, I know now that we have to do our part to stay inside as much as possible. We have tried to only go for liquor runs every couple of weeks. We have also tried to spend our money wisely. Kevin has been laid off after all, and I made a huge decision to get myself out of credit card debt the very first Saturday I had nothing to do and wasn’t allowed to see anybody.

Rule number five for growing up, take advantage of low interest rates.

I had been pondering the chance to take advantage of a loan with a lower interest rate than my credit cards for a couple months. My interest on my credit cards is one of the reasons I felt I would never be done with credit card debt. I was able to get through school with no student loans, but I was still a poor college student. So, enter the credit card – my friend who always wanted something in return…who would do favors for me, but they always came with interest. These included many broken down car moments, a few dinners where I really can’t believe I was allowed in the restaurant to actually eat, a few moves around the country, and a trip here and there. Hello permanent debt.

I figured I was just one of those people who would always be paying on these cards until the end of time. I even worried about how it would affect Kevin if I didn’t win the cancer battle. So, I made sure to have at least enough life insurance to pay off those cards and some of the house, hoping debt wouldn’t haunt his own dreams. But that seemed to be the only way those cards would ever get paid off. I would have to die, and Lord knows I was not going quietly into the night any time soon.

So there I was. Bored. It was only six days in from my self-isolation and a Saturday. I wasn’t working, but at the time, Kevin still was. Normally, I would take our dog Odin all over town for puppuccinos and play dates with all of his friends. Sometimes we would even go visit Kevin at work and see all of Odin’s favorite homies. But now, these were all things I was no longer allowed to do.

How in the heck was I going to stay busy?

Within an hour, I was approved for a personal loan that would go directly towards the credit card debt that had made me so uncomfortable. I got a much, much, much lower interest rate too and put together a two-year payment plan. By George, I did it! And it was incredibly easy. I just needed not to be distracted with fun for an hour.

My brother texted right after I had completed everything:

Him: Hi sister! How’s it going? Oh Before your answer I have a strict no-virus talk rule in effect. Lol

Me: Brother I am doing really good! I just did some stuff to help with my credit debt. I feel so adult!

Him: Haha I am refinancing my house! Lol Great minds think alike.

Me: We are soooo dad’s kids!!

Now, just because I was being super adult, that didn’t mean I couldn’t have a little too much fun with it. I immediately took a page from a movie I once saw, Confessions of a Shopaholic. I had also read the book. It was quite stressful, but super entertaining. In the movie, a woman who is having a hard time not spending way too much on her credit cards, decides to freeze them in an ice cube. She eventually freaks out and frees them from their ice prison, but it took a lot of effort on her part. So, there I was placing my two dreaded credit cards in a plastic bag full of water. They still live in their new home. Every time I look at them I’m proud of myself.

“Guess you could say your assets have been…frozen.” my dad said after I bragged about how cool I was…pun intended.

If there was ever a time to make a plan to pay off these cards it was now, when there was no excuse to use them. Nowhere to go, and sadly, no one to see.

So there you have it. These times are hard, scary and definitely uncertain. But, at least I’m hoping to come out of this a little bit more grown-up than I was before…when I sat in that bar and laughed at my friends who were begging for me to stay home.

As a world, we are going to be different people after this is over. We might do things in an odd way that future generations will never understand, much like those who had to live through the Great Depression and World War I and II.

For instance, I will now have a stash of frozen and canned foods in our home as backup for a scary day. I will now value our toilet paper in a way that seems ridiculous. After cancer, I became someone that refused to say “no” whenever given the opportunity to see my friends and family. Now, I hope to make sure I’m more financially responsible about how I’m saying yes to all of those opportunities.

And, I will have to pay more attention to the news. Even if it makes me a little sad. Sometimes, I feel like they only talk about the bad stuff. However, that’s the stuff I need to start paying attention to because I can’t be as naïve as I once was…cancer taught me a lot. And COVID-19 has taught me some more.

I definitely still have a lot of growing up to do. I just hope that when the doors open and we are released back into the wild, I will be able to say that I learned from this experience and did everything I could to come out of it okay.

And I hope you do too.

My Ten Cents – Endorsements from a Cervical Cancer Survivor

As Eminem once rapped, “Here’s my ten cents, my two cents is free.” The following information contains advice and recommendations on what helped me out while going through my desperate situation – the biggest piece of advice being that cancer is different for every single person. So, please feel free to take these suggestions with a grain of salt.

1) Younique Eyelash Serum – While the rest of my hair stopped growing, this serum helped my eyelashes stay strong and keep growing during chemo. I don’t think you can get a better advertisement than that and I even got compliments from the nurses after each brachytherapy treatment (where I was not allowed to wear any make up). It is at least worth trying out, so I’ve included a link below to my sister’s Younique consultant website.

www.youniqueproducts.com/AndrinaAragon

2) Lysol Disinfectant Spray and Wipes (Travel size) – This was a very considerate gift from my aunt, uncle, and cousin. It always broke my heart to open a care package and see things that I absolutely needed during this time. It meant that whoever sent the box was all too familiar with what I was going through. Nonetheless, these came in handy. I found myself using them during those few and far between days when I was allowed to go to the store alone. I would spray down the handles of the cart and also wipe my hands after being in a store of any kind. I didn’t get sick from a cold or flu during my time in chemo, or while healing afterwards, so I have to credit that to my germaphobe ways – including washing my hands for 20 seconds after I touched anything and using these while I was on the go.

https://www.amazon.com/Lysol-Disinfecting-Wipes-Lemon-Blossom/dp/B017P2ZG0O/ref=sr_1_5_a_it?ie=UTF8&qid=1534995921&sr=8-5&keywords=lysol+wipes+travel+size

https://www.amazon.com/Lysol-Disinfectant-Spray-Travel-Size/dp/B00129JTXM/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1534995963&sr=8-3&keywords=lysol+disinfectant+spray+travel+size

3) Vaginal Wipes – I know…gross…but these were a handy gift from one of my aunts. They were most handy while I was going through the brachytherapy surgeries. The last thing I wanted was an infection on top of all the stress and exhaustion my vagina was already going through. So, I found myself using these after my treatments as an extra precaution. You can pick any generic kind up from the store or go to the Amazon link below:

https://www.amazon.com/Summers-Eve-Feminine-Cleansing-Sensitive/dp/B005LGC362/ref=sr_1_cc_2_a_it?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1534995997&sr=1-2-catcorr&keywords=vaginal%2Bwipes&th=1

4) Adult Absorbent Pads – I know…another gross topic for you, but it won’t hurt to have these in case of an emergency. They saved me when I was bleeding everywhere and ended up in the ER. Well, they saved my bedding and my sister’s car. I lost three pairs of pants, so it was nice not to destroy everything. My friend originally purchased them for me when she thought I was going to have a hysterectomy. Although we didn’t end up going through the full surgery, I still needed them in the end – which is why it won’t hurt to have them on hand. Then, if you never use them, you have an excuse to get a puppy.

https://www.amazon.com/World-Deals-Disposable-Blue-Underpad/dp/B005FGN4ZC/ref=sr_1_1?s=home-garden&ie=UTF8&qid=1538599520&sr=1-1&keywords=adult+pads

5) Keranique Hair Products – This was a kind gift from my mom after my chemo treatments were finally completed. She knew that even though the chemo didn’t take my hair, it had done a number on it. This product helped me feel confident about my hair again. It takes time, but it’s worth the money.

https://www.amazon.com/Keranique-Regrowth-Hydrating-Conditioner-Minoxidil/dp/B0742KDTJ6/ref=sr_1_4_s_it?s=hpc&ie=UTF8&qid=1534996270&sr=1-4&keywords=keranique

6) Cocoa Butter Lotion – The areas on my skin where the radiation was applied were extremely dry after everything was said and done. Although some people have skin issues during radiation, I was very lucky to not have that issue. I did, however, have extremely dry skin afterwards. The skin on my hips, no matter what lotion I used, had a dry look to it. There was also a spot on my back towards the butt crack that was so dry, it felt like leather. My co-workers gave me cocoa butter lotion and I found it to be the best thing available to help my skin heal. I have a random link below for some on Amazon, but I don’t think it matters which brand you use, as long as it has cocoa butter.

https://www.amazon.com/Vaseline-Intensive-Lotion-Cocoa-Radiant/dp/B01HTJTV4U/ref=sr_1_5_s_it?s=hpc&ie=UTF8&qid=1534996361&sr=1-5&keywords=cocoa%2Bbutter%2Blotion&th=1

7) Audiobooks – During the healing stage, after chemo and radiation were complete, I used this fantastic gift from my cousin Ali. It helped me pass the time before my “chemo brain” was completely gone and gave me something to concentrate on while I was slowly walking around my neighborhood and gaining muscle back. I personally used Audible.

https://www.audible.com/ep/2book?source_code=MSNGBSH0410189059&device=d&cvosrc=ppc.bing.audible%20login&cvo_campaign=42052109&cvo_crid=76690993922759&Matchtype=e&msclkid=ab482747a8c41d9828f07c39839f6302&gclid=CJmFzoifgt0CFeGpZQodRJcGfQ&gclsrc=ds

8) Neutrogena Sunblock SPF 70 Beach Defense – This stuff was (and still is) my favorite of all the beauty products. This is the sunblock that Pal showed me in the store in those early days. I have used it every day since and it has not disappointed me. To this day, I am a little weird about the sun, only because it has become a habit for me to hide a little from it – sort of like my germaphobe ways. I now walk around with an umbrella, hat, or this sunscreen on my face. I allow myself to enjoy the sun, but I am very cautious about how long I stay in it. I think it is a healthy habit I picked up.

https://www.amazon.com/Neutrogena-Resistant-Sunscreen-Spectrum-Fast-Absorbing/dp/B00AEN4QZ8/ref=sr_1_1_a_it?ie=UTF8&qid=1534996653&sr=8-1&keywords=neutrogena%2Bsunscreen%2B70&th=1

9) Netflix/Hulu/iTunes Movie or TV Show Apps – When we thought I was going to have surgery and would have to take six weeks off from work, this seemed like a necessity. Everyone, including myself, assumed I would be binge watching everything that came out since the existence of Netflix. Sadly, with chemo and radiation, that is just not possible. You can start movies, but your chemo brain will set in and it will be hard to retain the information after a while. You may also find yourself falling asleep due to the exhaustion from the radiation. I found that my attention span was about 20 minutes before I was lost to sleepiness or the chemo fog. Either way, these apps are amazing to start and re-start anything you are trying to watch. My favorite things to fall asleep to consisted of nature shows on Netflix. They always had an amazing narrator that relaxed me, and then when I would wake up, the nature scenes were instantly intriguing. It also helps to watch one of your favorite movies over and over again since you already know what happens if you miss something. I was lucky enough to get a $50 gift card from one of my sister’s friends and use that money to buy my favorite movies. This was a crazy helpful gift. You will need to find what works best for you to fall asleep to and wake up to, but I think you should be able to find it on these apps easily.

10) Sports Bra’s/Comfortable Underwear and Comfortable Pants (easy to remove and put back on) – You will be going to the doctor several days a week and will be pulling your pants down for radiation. You need to be comfortable both before and afterwards. I found myself stealing yoga pants or sweats from my sister because “everyone had seen” all of my other pairs of comfortable clothes. I got some pajamas from my family and I had my own stash of sweat pants and yoga pants, but after seven weeks of pulling your pants down, you want to wear something different.

The sports bras were wonderful for after my surgery. They were gentle on my stitches and allowed me not to “feel so free” when I had visitors or went to the doctor. Everyone was already seeing my vagina, so they didn’t need to see my boobs too.

You will want to wear underwear that doesn’t feel restricting in any way. After surgery, your stitches are very sensitive so you will want looser underwear. You will also want to not feel restricted after brachytherapy sessions. Due to bleeding, you may lose a few of your underwear. So, having some extra on hand is always a good idea.

You are going to be so exhausted and the thought of getting dressed will be very hard on you. The time it takes to get dressed will be very long due to your slow pace. Give yourself something easy and simple to wear that will not require any work on your part. Something you can wear out to the doctor and pass out in comfortably when you get home.

11) Thermos (64 oz) – The Cactaki Water Bottle is the one that Pal picked out for me to measure the 64 oz of water I was supposed to drink daily. It was extremely helpful and necessary. It doesn’t keep your water as cold as I would like, but it helps you keep track of how much you need to drink throughout the day – which is priceless when your brain doesn’t want to work anymore. I highly recommend it. I also highly recommend getting a new thermos to drink out of when you are sick. When you are all better the last thing you are going to want to do is look at that other water bottle ever again. You will need to continue to drink water when you are better though. I believe the reason I had fewer side effects when compared to others was because I drank my water. My people made sure I did and I can say that water may have saved my life. So treat yourself to a new water bottle. Whether it is the one I recommend, or a fun one with dinosaurs on it, you are going to need to trust in your water bottle. My friend Lindsay got me a water bottle with sparkles all over it. It became an “after” bottle that I looked forward to using.

https://www.amazon.com/Cactaki-Non-Toxic-Fitness-Enthusiasts-Leakproof/dp/B077NL73N6/ref=sr_1_1_sspa?ie=UTF8&qid=1534999313&sr=8-1-spons&keywords=cactaki+water+bottle+with+time+marker&psc=1

12) Flavored Water – If you are anything like me, and not a fan of water, than you are going to need to add some variety to it. The Crystal Light Pure On the Go packs were what Andee bought me whenever she went to the store. She always bought me a different flavor because she knew how quickly I got bored of water (even flavored water). Ironically, my least favorite flavor became my go-to in the end – grape. I think it was because it was the one that I drank the least during the entire course of my treatment. I had Dr. Radiation look over the ingredients to make sure it was okay to drink. If you don’t drink this kind of flavored water, I just recommend staying away from anything with too much sugar.

https://www.amazon.com/Crystal-Light-Lemonade-Drink-7-Packet/dp/B071JKKXQN/ref=sr_1_7_a_it?s=sporting-goods&ie=UTF8&qid=1534999698&sr=8-7&keywords=crystal+light+pure

13) Food/Prepared Meals – Andee would prep me small bowls of random stuff every week. She always tried to throw something new into the mix, but I found I would always return to my favorites. What I loved when I was healthy is what I still loved when I was sick. Carbs, carbs, and more carbs! I couldn’t eat as much as I did when I was healthy, but it was nice to have small bowls that I could simply heat up when I didn’t feel well, but knew I still had to eat.

YOU HAVE TO EAT! Your body is going through so much. Even if you want to puke it all up, you have to eat at least two bites here and there throughout the day. Mashed potatoes went well with my stomach on the extremely nauseous days. On days when I was only a little nauseous, I would want my sister’s Spanish rice. On days when I felt saucy…pun intended…I would ask for pasta. Sadly though, I started to get heartburn from pasta towards the last few weeks of chemo. So, don’t be surprised if your go-to turns you down. At least you tried. I now eat pasta with no worries.

Make sure to give in to your cravings. If you find yourself craving ice cream…then eat that ice cream. You will not crave things as often as you want to with the nausea, so take advantage of it when the opportunity presents itself.

https://www.walmart.com/ip/Mainstays-Meal-Prep-Food-Storage-Containers-30-Count/847969398?athcpid=847969398&athpgid=athenaItemPage&athcgid=null&athznid=PWBAB&athieid=v0&athstid=CS020&athguid=466001f5-46cfa622-d92e90b69a18a716&athena=true

14) Journal – It’s therapeutic to write your feelings down. This blog was the best way for me to express myself without feeling like I needed to be “on”. There were times when I couldn’t express what I was feeling, so I would just laugh it off. For some reason, I was always able to express myself best while writing.

It could be writing for you, or it could be painting or coloring or smashing plates. Whatever it is that makes you feel the release of all the emotions inside of you, do it! Do it for yourself and do it for your caregivers. Those that know you best will know when you are putting on a show. They may not tell you, but they will know. If you don’t want to be such a nuisance, get those emotions out in some form.

15) Robe – This could have totally just been something I enjoyed, but I think it is worth a try.

My good friend Lindsay got me a fluffy robe with pockets. It was perfect to put on during those early mornings when I was cold, which always happened because I am always cold. The pockets were useful for stuffing with all the pills kept by my bedside, before making my slow approach to the kitchen to drink some Metamucil and take my medication in time for my radiation appointment.

It was the one thing I looked forward to in those early mornings and it got me out of bed…the fluffy robe. It felt nice. I would sit in the quiet and focus on how soft it felt. I would focus on that and not what I was about to go through again. It was a nice distraction.

Maybe for you it will be a silk robe, or a furry robe. Maybe it will be a funny mug to drink out of in the morning. Use whatever makes you feel cozy and gets you to take your meds at the start of the day.

16) Pillows/Bedding/Stuffed Animals – My sister got me one of those giant hug pillows before my surgery. This was a life saver throughout everything. After surgery, it was very hard to hold myself up. The pillow could wrap around me and block me from rolling off the bed. It also helped me feel like Kevin was there if he had to work. We all joked we should put one of his shirts and a hat on it and call it the Kev-Pillow, much like Lily did in “How I Met Your Mother”.

https://www.amazon.com/Utopia-Bedding-Ultra-Soft-Pillow/dp/B01FXROXFW/ref=sr_1_25?s=home-garden&ie=UTF8&qid=1538599292&sr=1-25&keywords=large+pillow

Another friend got me a square pillow with one of my favorite quotes from Shakespeare, “Though she be little, she is fierce.” This one was perfect to pair with the hug pillow when I wanted to sit up. It was also helpful if I was eating because I could have it in my lap. After surgery, they say to put a pillow over your stomach to help with the pain if you have to cough. This was the pillow that helped with the pain!

My friend Katie got me a neck pillow that helped me get comfortable when I was having a hard time. There are so many pillows to choose from. Try them all!

My dad even got me a special mattress cover that keeps germs away. I pretty much lived in the bed, so I know this had to have helped me. It was nice to know everything was clean and safe while I laid there, which was one less thing to worry about – especially when your white blood cell count goes down.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MRHA96O/ref=twister_B00MRH9NA2?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1

I got a couple stuffed animals from my friend Lori and my grandma. They were my little friends and nice to hug when I was exhausted or to hold tightly if I had a wave of pain. They helped me sleep and served the double purpose of a neck pillow, if need be. I have always been a stuffed animal person, so feel free to laugh at the small child that still resides inside my thirty-something-year-old self.

17) Mints and Ginger Snaps – I got these from my co-workers and Katie. Both helped alleviate the nausea if I was trying to be up and about. Just eating one helped a lot. I would say it is at last worth a try.

18) Calendar/Food Log – This was incredibly helpful for everyone who was taking care of me. Andee bought a giant dry erase calendar for us to record my appointments and who was taking me. We also logged what I ate every day, in order to ensure that I was eating enough. It helped whoever was “watching” me to walk in and already know if I had breakfast or not. Then they knew if they needed to nag/trick me into eating. I got tired of answering questions. So, “What did you eat today?” would have gotten really old fast. It was nice not to have to explain myself. Also, if I crossed out the food on a certain day, then it meant that I had puked. It wasn’t common, as I tried very hard to hold everything down. However, it was nice for those who saw me the next day to know exactly how sick I was feeling.

https://www.amazon.com/Large-White-Monthly-Erase-Calendar/dp/B009M3EIFO/ref=sr_1_4?s=home-garden&ie=UTF8&qid=1538599404&sr=1-4&keywords=large+dry+erase+calendar

19) Positive Attitude – This is not possible 100% of the time, but it is an ineffable tool. My Denver crew was so good at keeping me happy. The happier I was, the more positive I felt. They didn’t ever act like I wasn’t going to get through it. Even if I felt like I wasn’t going to get through it, they never gave up. Their determination is what helped me through the darkest of days. I couldn’t fathom letting them down. Try to have a positive attitude and to surround yourself with others who will do the same for you when you don’t have the energy to keep it up.

Now, if you feel the deep desire to throw a book off a balcony, punch a pillow, or cry on a patio, please do. Just make sure you pick yourself up and wipe those tears off your face when you’re done. As unimaginable as it can be, there is an end to the tunnel – whatever that may be. We can’t waste the moments of our precious short lives fearing the worst or dwelling on the negative. We can’t use what little energy we have on feeling sorry for ourselves. We need to use that energy to pick ourselves up from that shower floor, put some clothes on, and go out there and fight.

It reminds me of a quote from one of my favorite shows – Game of Thrones,

“And there is only one thing we say to Death…not today.”

Try to have as many days possible where you say, “Not today.”

20) Cancer Insurance – A friend of mine asked after everything was said and done, “Do you find that you appreciate life more now that you have been through something so scary?” (He has this beautiful Irish accent that made me pause before answering him.)

“No!” I exclaimed with laughter, before I tried to explain myself.

“I have always loved life. I have always been taught that life could be taken from you at any moment, so you need to make every moment count.”

I then further explained to him that my mom raised us to fear the inevitable. Not in an unhealthy sort of way, but she always made sure that we knew how precious life was and how quickly it can be taken away from you. It was the reason I had little regrets going into that operation room for the first time and not being certain if I was going to ever wake up again. She taught us to live life to the fullest. To love deeply and passionately without apology, and to be financially responsible in case something horrible happens to you (or the someone you are so busy loving with that passion) that you don’t see it coming.

This was the reason I had invested in cancer insurance at an age when no one really worries about such things. I had seen how cancer didn’t care who you were, how old you were, or what you did for a living. It hit people and it hit them hard. I wanted to be prepared in case something horrible happened to me. I wanted to make sure that if something happened to me, Kevin would be alright. I wouldn’t say I was ready for it, but I was financially responsible about the possibility.

The last thing you are going to have the energy to worry about at a time like this is money. So please, find an insurance that works for you and invest in the possibility. I personally have Colonial Life insurance. I got it through my work. When I went to the information session they said, “It’s not a matter of who gets cancer anymore, it’s a matter of when.” It’s a great line to sell cancer insurance. It’s great because it feels so true. I had Aflac before I switched over, but as I said, find the one that is best for you.

Also, look into if your health insurance provides financial assistance. Before you go into surgery, or any other treatment, try and get all of these things figured out and settled so that you can just concentrate on healing afterwards. It’s not a perfect system, but if you can get most of the work done before you get really sick, it helps a lot!

21) Short Term & Long Term Disability – I was fortunate enough to get this through work. If your job provides this assistance, I recommend looking into it. That being said, I did get screwed with my short term and long term disability. They started paying me too soon for the short term, when my job was still paying for some of my sick days and vacation days. So, in the end, I had to pay that money back. I won’t go into too much detail about it, but my words of advice would be:

• Be very specific about the dates you need to be paid. If you know that you run out of vacation and sick days at noon on the 5^th, then don’t take a payment for the 4^th.
• Make sure that you keep record of all payments. If there is a discrepancy, it is good to have your own records to go back to.
• Do not cash a payment that you believe to be too big, too soon, or after the date you should have been paid. If it looks wrong, then it is. They tend to pay out and then ask for it back. So, make sure they have no reason to ask you to return money.
• Make sure that you know how to record your short term and long term time with your job. This was one of the reasons I got screwed. I was told one thing, and when I came back four months later, I found out I was recording things wrong. By then though, I couldn’t change what had happened. Ask your job two or three times how to log your time out.

I know I just made it all sound scary and not worth it, but it can be a huge help while you are waiting for that cancer insurance to pay out. Sometimes that can take a while. Just be smart with it.

22) The Village (Doctors and family/friends/dog/cancer hotline) – I don’t think I can ever explain how important this is. You need people to cheer for you and be there for you when you want to die. You need people to give you a reason to go on when you yourself are not reason enough.

My beautiful dog (Stout) that was with me through thick and thin sadly passed away from her own cancer two months after I was in remission. I had lost a dog before, Toby, and a dog after my cancer treatments and I can’t express what that did to my soul. What I can tell you though is that their precious lives helped me tremendously when I was ill. I thought of how tough Toby was to go through what he did before I started my treatments and how I needed to try and be as tough as he was with his aggressive cancer. My Stout was always by my side when I was sick. I hate how fast lymphoma took her from me, but at the same time I am grateful that I had her when I did and that she didn’t have to suffer as long as so many people do. A dog is a powerful being not to be taken lightly.

My people, both near and far, were the ones that helped me keep going. There were times when I was truly contemplating quitting, or about to have a pity-party, and I would get a text or a phone call from someone checking in saying that they loved me or were thinking of me. These small gestures meant everything to me in those dark moments. I have spoken to others who suffer from severe illnesses of different forms and they all say the same thing. Their people and kind words, gestures, or even texts helped them through some rough spots. It may not seem like much to those that are healthy, but to the sick person it means everything.

There were so many moments when Andee, Kevin, and Pal would just be there with me while I slept away the nausea or closed my eyes to ignore the pain of what was happening to me. Just having them in the room with me watching a movie meant so much to me. The less I was alone the better. When I was alone, I got to thinking that everyone was better off without me and that was not healthy. It was also not true. My people needed me and they showed me that with every minute they spent with me. Please try very hard not to push them away from you. They need you as much as you need them. They are unable to do anything to take the pain away from you. I spoke to the social worker at chemo once and he explained to me that it can be hardest on those that aren’t sick. For those of us who are, we are doing something. We are fighting and going to appointments and taking the drugs and eating and drinking what they say. For those that are not inflicted…they feel useless. They think there is nothing they can do. Let them know that they can text, pray, send positive thoughts, give rides, or just sit with you. It’s something no one understands until they are on the other side of sickness.

You need to trust your doctors and nurses. You need to listen to them and follow their advice. They have literally studied and devoted their lives to saving yours. Treat them with the same respect that they are treating your life. If you don’t feel comfortable with the nurse or doctor you have, then you need to speak up. You need to have absolute faith and confidence in them. Believe it or not, they have it in you.

23) Useful Reading – I got used to seeing my doctors every day and being able to ask them questions whenever I wanted. I found the article link below extremely helpful when I was going through the healing phase and trying not to bother my doctors with the questions that I didn’t think of while I was in treatment. It is called, “Recovering after Pelvic Radiation Therapy – A Guide for Women”. I took the information and instructions my doctors gave me, along with this article, and sort of merged them together. Always listen to what information or advice your doctors have, but this article may help if you are hesitant to ask them about some of the more private situations you may find yourself in after the treatments are done.

http://www.psych.usyd.edu.au/cemped/docs/Pelvic_Radiation_Therapy_Final_RCT_11thJuly2011.pdf

24) Get a Little Fat – You heard me. Once the treatments are over and you can finally enjoy food to the fullest again, let yourself enjoy that food. I’m not saying get scary obese and give yourself diabetes! I’m just saying, that as women, we tend to question every single thing that goes into our mouth. “A moment on the lips is forever on the hips.” What a horrible and cruel saying…yet, we think it all the time. We look in the mirror and we judge ourselves constantly. For just a little bit, enjoy the new taste of freedom. Take that one extra bite of your favorite food. Have dessert. Accept that piece of candy from your friend’s purse. Maybe you won’t get fat, but please, please, please…have some fun.

I was given the gift of food from my childhood best friend Ashley and my “brother from another mother” John.

John is my little brother’s best friend. I pretty much watched these two dorks grow up together into the amazing men they are today. When John heard that I had cancer, he sent me a Grub Hub gift card for $100. He intended for me to use it before I started chemo. He wanted me to bulk up for the big attack. Unfortunately, with the surgery, it was hard to eat since I could feel the digestion process so distinctly. This gift card came in handy once I was done with all the treatments though. It was so nice to be able to order food from anywhere when Kevin and I were too tired to leave the house. The healing was a lot of work for both of us. So, the idea of cooking was not high on the priority list.

Ashley gave me gift cards to some of my favorite food places to dine at, along with some M&M’s. This was also incredibly helpful while I was healing. It gave me and Kevin an excuse to go out, have a date night, and not be so stressed about money because it was pretty much all paid for.

I had another friend from work send me beautiful pastries through the mail. My other childhood best friend Kalli and my cousin Carrie gave me some candy.

I ate all the candy and didn’t feel even a little bit guilty.

Get a little fat on life and never forget to taste it. You deserve it!

Afterthoughts

I was in remission as of May 2018, but my full strength was not back until August and it took a lot of work to get there. I noticed that my hips would get really stiff (not a painful feeling just awkward) when I would sit at the office after a couple of hours. I have now made it a routine to get up and walk three times throughout the day (twice for about 5 minutes and then one 15-minute walk). This has definitely helped strengthen my hips after the radiation treatments.

I look back on how I felt before I found out I had cancer. I was having a lot of hip pain and blamed it on running. Now that I am up and running again, the same distance if not farther than before, I do not have that pain. I think that the pain in my hip was my body telling me that something was wrong. I feel bad for Kevin during this period, because I was insisting it was our bed for a couple of months before everything changed….well everything except the bed.

I was in constant pain after my LEEP procedure. I thought it was the procedure that put me in that pain, but after my surgery I learned the truth. I believe my LEEP procedure seemed so much worse because they had “hidden” the strings from my IUD and forgot to move them back before I got to put my legs back together again. At the time, the doctor asked if I wanted her to go back and fix it, but I refused due to the amount of pain I was in.

I should have let her go back in. I think the strings were poking me constantly from that point on. I had to take ibuprofen or Tylenol regularly every 4-6 hours, from when I left the procedure to when I went in for surgery about 7 weeks later.

After my surgery I was in pain, but the previous pain was completely gone. They had taken out my IUD and the constant pain went away with it. It was a huge relief.

I like to think I am the same Maria I was before everything happened. I am like a Maria 2.0 version upgrade. An upgrade that needs one pap smear a year but gets to give my doctors a show every three months just to be on the safe side.

An upgrade where they have removed the cancer and inserted a large amount of compassion.

I was always compassionate before, but I didn’t know how to be there for people going through tough times. I thought that if something devastating ever happened to me, I wouldn’t want to talk to people about it. I thought that I would hate hearing people say, “I’m sorry,” or “I’m thinking about you”. I thought that I would want to be alone to deal with it by myself, and that all those words from those who cared would just remind me of the horrible thing that I was going through. It was the reason why when someone told me they were struggling I would shy away from them and give them their space. It was space I assumed I would want if it was me.

I didn’t react at all the way I thought I would before this happened. I learned a great deal about myself and how I should treat others who are in any sort of pain.

Now, if someone I love is hurting, I can’t stop myself from checking in on them and letting them know how much I love them. I let them know that if they are one of those people that want to be alone, then they are going to have to be very blunt with me. I don’t hide my love for anyone, especially when I know they are hurting, because I think love is one of the main reasons I am still here today. Love comes in many forms and I was lucky enough to experience them all when I was sick.

Perhaps this was the lesson I was meant to learn. Perhaps there is more that I can do to spread my message. I thought I was going to spread awareness about cancer…maybe I was just meant to spread awareness about love. It’s amazing how such a powerful thing can be so simply misunderstood or ignored.

So, in the wise words of my uncle, NEVER STOP FIGHTING. I would also like to add, NEVER STOP LOVING. Love is the one thing that cancer can never take away from us. It can take our looks, our body, it can even take our life, but it can never ever take away the love you have for others and it can never take away the love that others have for you.

I guess the Beatles had it right all those years ago…all we need is love.

 

*If you want to follow Maria’s story, please visit her page The 8%.