I hate writing this section of my website. Yet it flows so freely. Inspiring huh? It needs to be done. In some ways I know it will help me but in most ways it’s like digging up something I want dead and buried….forever. But that’s never happening unless I get hypnotized and have theses memories permanently removed. “Biggie Biggie Biggie can’t you see…sometimes your words just hypnotize me”… RIP Biggie Smalls. You would have hypnotized me. Sorry…rando gangster reference. This is why I love having my own website. I can go off on tangents that make no sense to most but please me greatly. Everyone should have a website. Yeh so I often sit down and think “What section should I write today?” Most of the time I just drink wine and say screw it. I seem to be drawn to this section like a fat girl to a Krispy Kreme. I want to stop eating donuts but the “Hot Now” sign keeps calling me. I let the page tell me what it wants to say. Apparently it wants to torture me some more so we carry on…
When I last left you, I had to let Hubby know what the Dr. said. It’s hard thing to do. When you haven’t even processed something yourself….to share it with someone else with the hope that you can somehow make it “ok” for them. And you are far from ok. I wonder if that’s a “thing?” Always taking care of others before ourselves. What choice did I have? I needed him to be my rock. And he was. So we held each other, shed a tear and then shit got real. He knew I was never going back to Dr. Fucktard who laid out my miserable existence after 2 minutes of knowing me. Hell to the no! I needed time to think. I needed a plan. So I called a friend who’d been through something similar. She has the BRCA mutation an opted to have her breasts and girly parts removed before cancer. I admired her courage for making such a tough call. For those who don’t know, the BRCA mutation means that one of the genes that would normally help you fight cancer, has a mutation making you more susceptible to various cancers. Obviously that’s not the medical definition so don’t jump down my shit. It’s my watered down understanding of it. In women, it’s our girly parts that always seem to make a nice resting places for cancer. Ovaries, boobies and such. So getting rid of them puts the risk back to that of a person without the mutation. Ok enough Doogie Houser. So I called her to find out the deets. Where did she go? Who did what? Duke…only 4 hours from me. Doable. I would call them in the morning.
Now onto the harder part. Time to call Pops. You’ll recall we’d been keeping the sitch from my Mother who from here on out will be referred to as “Mortitia.” She’s a creature and the name suits her. Pops and I aren’t your emotional friends. We are hard core deal with it and save the tears peeps. Not Mortitia. Thus why I kept it from her until I knew what was going on. So I called Pops to break the news. He asked me how it went. I told him not so good and ran down the same shizzle I told Hubby. I could hear the concern in his voice but he stayed strong for me. Then it was time to put Mortitia on the phone. To her credit, she took it well. No crying out “Not my baby” as I had imagined. So that was good. She was none to pleased that I had been keeping it from her but no time to argue about that. I told them what I knew and that I was going to call Duke in the morning. I asked that we not take an ad out in the paper announcing my demise as I needed some time to process. My brother called next. He was pretty upset and concerned. And so went the rest of the calls. Friends, family and those who needed to know. It’s exhausting to try and explain something you don’t understand and make people believe you think you will be ok. Yeh…not ideal.
I called Duke the next morning. They immediately made me feel 100% better than Dr. Fucktard without ever even meeting them. They told me what scans they needed copies of, made my appointments and got the ball rolling. And when I say ball rolling…boy did it roll! You don’t have time to think about anything other than what they tell you to do! I had to go to the local hospital and get copies of all my scans, overnight them to Duke and prepare for my appointments. I had a rare (like seeing Big Foot rare) emotional breakdown at the hospital. I saw a girl I knew and she asked how I was doing. Queue the tears. I don’t know why saying it that particular time brought on the water works but it did. Back to Duke…Since I was coming from so far away, they made all my appointments back to back. They told me I would be staying in one room and the various Dr.’s would come to me so I didn’t have to run all over the place. Nice. Looking back, the lineup was kind of comical. It went from Peter Positive to Debbie Downer as each Dr. came and went. More on that later. I think I had to wait a week or two for my appointment which was UNNERVING. Let me tell you, when you have a parasitic twin growing on your tit, the last thing you want to do is wait for someone to name it! You seriously feel like it’s growing an inch per day! That’s not the way it works but you can’t talk logic to a newly diagnosed person. We just don’t hear you. Duke assured me it would be fine. Next up…letting the work peeps know. Let the good times roll…
It almost feels like a birth announcement….”hey look what I grew. I’ll be giving the baby away as soon as I can.” Everyone at work knew I was going through testing but they had yet to find out I had cancer. It felt like if I could protect the information and not share it, it wasn’t real. People full on look at you different after they know. They give you that “poor puppy dog” look that makes me want to throat punch them. And then they apologize. I swear I’m going to write a book about what not to say and do when you know someone with cancer! You did not give me cancer therefore no apology needed! And BTW, we don’t want to hear it! We will be nice and say “thank you” but we really want to tell you to fuck off. Truth. So stop saying that if you are. I took my boss aside and told her what was going on. She’s a rock to all who know and love her. No puppy face. No apologies. She asked what she could do to help. And that my friends is the best response. Noted. I just needed her to tell everyone else bcs I couldn’t. And to convey I did not want to talk about it when I was in the office. I was emotionally beat down. And not for nothing afraid of the apology. I might cut someone. She agreed and I went home. When I came back everyone looked afraid to talk to me. Still cracks me up! Good job! You have to file these sorts of things under “The Dumb things people say” and do a little pregaming. Noted. I needed a safe space. It’s funny…. A safe space might have been the biggest treat while going through cancer. Coming to work talking to people who didn’t know. They treated me like a “normal” person and that’s rare when people know you are sick. To pick up the phone and talk to a client about a mortgage with no knowledge of what I was battling…such a treat. It made me less violent…
Next up….time to go to Duke
Note: Earlier today I was thinking about how crazy people are. Worried about weight (guilty), laundry, cleaning and all that dumb stuff. As I relive my journey I must remind you all to live. I promise you, you won’t be looking down from Heaven (or up from Hell) going “Thank God I gave up carbs so I could fit in my casket. And my clean house….they will never have to clean again!” None of that is happening. ENJOY YOUR LIFE! It’s long for some and short for others. We don’t have the advantage of knowing. Go outside. Smell the fresh air. Ride your bike. Take the trip. Do the things you dare not do. Leave the house a little messy. Drink the wine. Eat the cookie. It’s a struggle. Our habits are formed early. Think of it this way….if today was your last day would you want to be doing what you’re doing now? My guess is no….
XO