Yesterday was a long day...

On Nov. 13th, I had an appt for a PET Scan & then on Nov. 20th, an MRI. Yesterday, I had an appointment to go over the results of them. It appears that the cancer is currently contained to the cervix, and is not attached to the ligament like Dr. Scalici (pronounced Scuh-Lee-See) was concerned about. However, there is a spot on one of my lymph nodes that "lit up" in the tests, so she's going to be watching that. At this time, it's still undetermined if the cancer is a stage 1B2 or a 2A because now it depends on that dang lymph node spot.
I had to have another biopsy done. This makes the 5th one they've done on my cervix. How many pieces can they cut off before none is left? The biopsy itself isn't even the worst part, it's the peanut butter stuff they cake up inside you to stop the bleeding it causes. She calls it the peanut butter stuff because that's exactly what it looks like, but when it comes out of you, it's clumpy, grainy, and black like coffee grounds. So gross.

Then we talked more about treatment. I'll be on a very agressive, brutal treatment plan. Their words, not mine.

CHEMO: I'll do 5-7 weeks of it, (specifically, Cisplatin) once a week. This will be done every Tuesday. Even though the chemo itself will only take 45 minutes to an hour, these appointments will be about 6 hours long due to everything else that goes along with chemo. There's labwork to check my white blood cell count and determine my dosage for the day. Then I wait for them to get it ready. In the meantime, I get a bag of IV fluids to help hydrate me and prevent headaches. Then the chemo itself, and then another bag of IV fluids. Somewhere along the way, I'll also get anti-nausea meds in my IV, as well as a steroid to prevent me from throwing up, because apparently this chemo drug they're putting me on it bad enough to make me very sick, according to her. After chemo is over, I go downstairs to radiation.

RADIATION: I'll get external radiation for 5 weeks on a daily basis, Monday through Friday. How nice to have weekends off, ha. I am not sure yet how long this process takes. That will be explained to me in detail by Dr. Outlaw since she is the one who will be administering the radiation treatments. Once that's over, I'll have to do 2 weeks of Brachytherapy (pronounced Brake-E-therapy). I will be honest and admit that I am slightly terrified of this. When I was doing all of my research on treatments, I read about this one and how awful it was, and hoped my doctor wouldn't mention this. But, here we are. Brachytherapy is internal radiation. They'll insert metal rods into the vagina and they'll touch the tumor and administer radiation directly into it. I read that it is very painful. Unfortunately, Dr. Scalici confirmed this. Anyway once the rods are inserted, they'll do a CT scan to make sure they're exactly in the right place, then blast the tumor. I'll have two weeks of this treatment. The first week will be a Mon, Wed, Friday treatment, then the next week will be a Mon & Weds treatment. Absolutely NOT looking forward to this.

I was talked to about chest ports, picc lines, and IVs. They think the picc line is best for me. I'd already figured this considering all the research I've done, so now I have to find a cute picc sleeve to wear because I know my clingy little princess will accidentally yank it out of my arm trying to snuggle or play with me. I also have to order a special shower sleeve since it can't get wet. And the costs keep adding up.

I was recommended to get a flu shot, and to avoid anyone and everyone who is sick since my immune system will be compromised. Even the slightest sickness on my part will prevent me from being able to get treatment and will delay the process.

Dr. Scalici wants me to to participate in a clinical trial for Immunotherapy. She told me a little about it, and then had the research director, Daisy, come in and give me the details. There aren't any crazy side effects and they do the treatments on chemo day, so that part isn't so bad. But the other parts won't be so fun. It involves a lot more blood-drawing, and three more biopsies - two of which will be extreme enough that I'll have to be put to sleep. I don't get paid for any of this, but they cover the extra testing, as well as the trial drugs they give me. Kris isn't happy about it. He says I am not a guinea pig, and no, I'm not... but I have two daughters, and a lot of female friends. But most importantly, two daughters who could get cervical cancer someday and if this trial can help find something that can heal cancer faster like they think it can, then I am participating. Worst case scenario, it doesn't work. But at least I can say I tried. So needless to say, I agreed and did the 17 pages of paperwork on it.

Lastly, I received my appointment to meet with Dr. Outlaw on Dec. 1st and was informed that once you see her, you move at lightning speed because she likes to start treatment within a week. I'm not looking forward to it, because I am scared. I didn't want any of this. I wanted to have surgery and be done. But that's not an option, so now I'm ready to get this over with.

Finally, sometime after 4pm, I got to go home. I'd been there since 10:45am. I was exhausted mentally and physically, and laid there last night in bed with my head spinning in a million directions, just thinking of how this is about to be my life. Long, long days just to get up and do it all over again the next day, and the next day, and so on for the next 7 weeks. I'm already stressing over someone having to take care of Zoey every day, the kids being home alone after school for however long, and who is going to deal with the dog while I'm there. I can't drive myself to chemo due to the nausea and stuff, so they said someone needs to drive me. Definitely stressing over the bills. Holy hell, the bills. We JUST THIS WEEK finally paid off the deductible, only to have it turn around and start over in January. Kris is working overtime as much as possible to help keep our heads up as good as we can, so he can't be with me and he's stressing about that.

Overall, I'm trying to stay positive. I know this cancer isn't going to kill me. But my God, this stress possibly will.

Let's talk about Barb...

In an attempt to stay in good spirits, I decided to name this tumor so we can refer to it by name instead of always saying "the cancer."  It's not that I don't want to acknowledge it, but it's just funny.  

So why "Barb?" Easy. We love the Netflix show "Stranger Things" and it just seemed right that we call her Barb after poor ol' Barb in that show. Poor Barb was always around, but no one seemed to notice. And the few times they did notice, they didn't care. 

That's kinda how I was about this tumor at first. I knew something was there, I just didn't care enough to make time to deal with it, so I just went on with life and ignored it, the way they all did Barb. By the time Nancy and the others remembered Barb existed, she was already in the Upside-Down.  My tumor is up in my hoo-ha, and that's basically my upside down. Ha!   
If you haven't seen the show, then you won't get it. But if you have, well... am I right? 

In all seriousness, tomorrow at 1pm, I have a PET Scan. It will be my first, and I'm not sure what to expect. I know they said no food or drink for 6 hours before the appointment. (WHAT?) 

Also said no carbs, no sugar, no caffeine 18 hours before the appointment. (DOUBLE WHAT??)  

Barb isn't going to kill me, but this lack of real food and drink is going to be what takes me out.  I can't even... 

And then it was confirmed..

I've been waiting for that call. I knew what she was going to say. I knew from the beginning.

"Hey, it's Dr. Trammell. I got the results of your biopsy, and it's definitely cervical cancer. I know we were all suspecting it, but now that we know, we can move forward. I actually got the results yesterday evening, but didn't want to ruin your Halloween with the kids. I've already sent all of your files over to the oncologists, and they'll be calling you today with an appointment for a consultation, and they'll go over the plan for testing and treatment options with you then." 

I knew from the moment I called and made the appointment. The receptionist scoffed at me when I told her I couldn't wait a few weeks for an appointment, that I needed to be seen asap because I was pretty certain I had cervical cancer. I want to call her back and be like SEE, BITCH? I told you so. But it doesn't matter now. It's in the past. And my only concern now is for the future.

On one hand, I feel validated, and ready to tackle this thing head on. 
I knew I wasn't crazy and making up symptoms. I've known my whole life I was going to have some kind of cancer at some point in my life. Lambert used to have a cancer policy in our health insurance for me. At the time, I remember thinking how weird that was that he would do that. Looking back now, I realize how it was nice that he believed me when I told him I just somehow knew I'd have it someday, and didn't question it. He just prepared. I wish that policy was somehow still active. Anyway, here I am, dealing with the reality that someday is now. Dr. Trammell says they'll probably just cut it out of me and give me my hysterectomy and that's all there is to it since we caught it early. I hope that's the case. I'm ready to just get the show on the road and get all of this behind me and get my life back. I am ready to stop bleeding. Stop hurting. Be normal again.

And on the other, I feel broken and scared. 
What if it's bigger than she thinks? What if it's spread? What if surgery isn't an option and I have to have chemo and radiation? Who will take are of the kids? How in the hell will we pay for it? Like this is real. It's real.

It's cancer and it's inside me and I'm fucking terrified. 

I am going to schedule the appointment for my tattoo now. I'd decided already that once it was confirmed, I was getting a teal cancer ribbon tattooed on my foot so anyone and everyone could see it and ask questions and I could spread awareness about it. No one talks about cervical cancer. But they should. And I'll be the one to tell them.

For now, I've just got to figure out when and how to tell my own kids.