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My Story | Judy M., California, USA
Endometrial/Uterine
Cancer, stage 2a at 45
Total Abdominal Hysterectomy, bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy (TAH/BSO)
My name is Judy and this is my story:
1969
I am 15 years old. My boyfriend's mother dies of breast cancer that has
spread to her spine. All I know about cancer is that she was sick for
a long time and had to make a lot of trips to San Francisco, and she died
anyway. I hold my boyfriend while he cries.
1971
I am 17 years old. My same boyfriend's father, who was always kind to
me and treated me like his daughter, dies of colon cancer. He, too, made
a lot of trips to San Francisco for treatment, but for no use. I saw this
strapping, burly man shrink into a skinny shadow who didn't even recognize
his own son, then die. I hold my boyfriend while he cries again.
1969-1995
I meet or hear of a variety of people who have had cancer. Except for
one who had both her breasts removed to avoid getting cancer in both of
them, all are now dead from it.
July 1994
We had a series of disasters happen to our house, and my husband and
I and our two children are living temporarily in a comfortable motel.
My husband is staying over night at our house because we can't close the
doors and windows. One morning I woke up after having a precognitive dream.
The dream left me with this message: "You will have cancer. You will
have no pain. You will have time to get your affairs in order." This
disturbed me, but there was no more information. I go on with my life...
January 1995
For the first time in my life, my periods go haywire. I contribute this
to having had a cortisone shot during the middle of my cycle. Also my
house is still torn up, we are all living with my mother, it is raining
every day, and the sun hasn't shown for a month. And we are having major
problems with the contractor who is working on our house, and my five-year-old
daughter has to be rushed to the hospital with bronchiolitis. I have my
period for a week. Then three days later, I bleed again. Then I stop.
Then a week later, I start again. And so on for several weeks. I finally
go to an OB-GYN, who does a pelvic ultrasound, and a Pap. Nothing but
a minor ovarian cyst is found. She says, "If this keeps up, we will
do a uterine biopsy." It sounds painful. They check me for AIDS.
Nothing. I tell my regular doctor. She says, "There are some times
in a woman's life we get off schedule like this." Finally, the problem
stops on its own, and I become regular once again. (I wonder now, if the
uterine biopsy had been done then, what they would have found). I go on
with life...
March 1998
I leave a job that was causing me a great deal of stress and get a new
one where I am happier. I thank God on my knees for the job. Thank goodness
it has great health insurance as I will soon need it.
March 1999
I notice my hair is falling out rather rapidly. I go to my doctor. She
takes blood tests only to check my thyroid. It's normal. I go on with
my life. I also tell her I bleed sometimes when I ovulate. Just a little.
"Not to worry," she said, "it's normal."
June 1999
I notice my periods are getting closer together. Instead of every 28
days, I am having periods every 22 to 25 days. Hmm. I should mention this
to the doc, but I am busy. Also, for some unknown reason, I have frequent
diarrhea. I think it is just an irritable colon. I go on with my life.
My periods are long and hard. I get huffy and puffy when I try to walk
far. Well, I am fat and out of shape, I tell myself. Gotta do something
about that. Sometime...
July 1999
My husband and I go to southern California on a business trip. I can
barely walk 15 feet without having to sit down. My heart has been racing
and has scary palpitations. My husband says, "You used to be able
to do this before." I tell him he's right, and I promise when I get
home, I will check it out. Since my dad died of a heart attack, I suspect
I am developing a bad heart. Shit...
late July 1999
My heart races for no reason. I cut out all caffeine, but it doesn't
seem to help. I go to the doctor. She refers me to a heart doctor. I ask
if I can go on one more business trip. The doc tells me, "Yes, I
guess so, but watch how you feel."
August 1, 1999
It's the day of the trip and I don't feel well. My heart is racing, but
I really want to go on this trip and I have to drive for several hours
alone through the mountains. Heart is racing, I am tired and have to lie
down. Just had my period, a heavy one, plus a week of diarrhea. My heart
racing. Take some Tylenol. It doesn't slow down my heart. What is going
on? I start off on my trip anyway, get about 20 miles, and my heart is
really going.
Something is really wrong, I turn around and head for the hospital. I
think I am having a heart attack. I get to the hospital, they do a thorough
exam, including a chest x-ray and blood tests. The emergency room docs
come back and say, "You seem to be just fine, but you are very anemic.
Your red count is only seven, when it should be twelve or thirteen. Go
see your doctor and tell her." They give me nothing, and send me
home. I learned later that the hospital standard for giving a blood transfusion
is ten hemoglobin, and the doc who saw me "just didn't like to bother
with admitting people." Thank God it wasn't a heart attack. The doc
explained that my heart was racing because it was trying hard to get enough
thin blood to my brain and heart to keep me alive. People can die from
heart failure after enough of this.
August 1999
I go to the heart doctor. I tell him I feel like I am going to faint.
He couldn't believe they didn't transfuse me at the hospital. I end up
receiving four blood transfusions which helped the weakness, tiredness,
nausea, and lightheadedness I felt. For awhile. My regular doc never suggested
this.
end of August 1999
I still feel tired and sick, and I'm missing a lot of work. I tell my
doc. They tell me there is nothing they can do. They do a pelvic exam
and a Pap. "No problems," they say. They run no other tests.
I am still feeling very ill. They look at me derisively, like I am making
it up or enjoying the attention. I request a referral to a blood specialist.
They refuse adamantly, saying, "You just have iron deficiency anemia,
take your pills like a good patient." I tell them I am losing them
with all this diarrhea, they aren't helping me. They won't give me any
more blood transfusions. They tell me my health insurance won't cover
a specialist. I find out later they have no idea what my insurance covers,
and I don't need referrals from them. I say, "the Hell with them,"
and self-refer to a hematologist, who, luckily, is also an oncologist.
As soon as I go to him, he orders an upper and lower gastro-intestinal
(GI) series, and refers me to an OB-GYN. The upper and lower GI's are
clear, and I go to the OB-GYN who does not do a physical exam, but wants
to put me on progesterone. I am having problems with depression and anxiety
now, in addition to feeling like crap, partly because no one seems to
know what to do with me, and I don't want to take the progesterone because
one of its side effects is depression. Like I need more of that. So I
don't take the pills. The OB-GYN orders a pelvic ultrasound and compares
it to the one I had in '95. It comes out normal.
September-November 1999
I go on iron injections, twice a week, to build up my blood. My health
and strength improve overnight. My arms are covered with bruises from
the shots. I feel better and stronger all the time, but still strangely
anxious and depressed. I go for three weeks without sleeping, partly because
I think the iron shots cranked up my system, though the doctors say that
is not a side effect. This feeling is miserable, and I try desperately
to hold on to my job even though I am barely functioning, having anxiety
attacks, and feeling terrible gloom. I can't plan my life, I am exhausted
from not sleeping, so I start swimming to make myself tired enough to
sleep to escape the depression. I am trying to avoid all the medications
people are shoving on me so I swim every night. This helps me cope and
I enjoy it. I also splurge for weekly massages. It is my only comfort
during this terrible time.
December 1999
My red count, which I have struggled so hard to raise, keeps dropping.
I feel depressed. I start feeling lightheaded again, and weak. No one
knows what is wrong with me. My blood doc (I have since dropped my regular
doc in disgust) says, "Keep working with an OB-GYN, that is the only
place you are losing blood." I go to an new OB-GYN, tell her of my
anemia, and ask if she can help me. She tells me she will do a full work
up, and does a Pap. Then, following a mix-up with my health insurance
card, I never get the results of this Pap until the end of January.
End of January 2000
The doctor's office called, and I tell them I ALREADY sent the health
insurance card. I really did. But they say, "No, this isn't about
that. Your Pap is abnormal. It is probably nothing, you are approaching
menopause, but we want to do a uterine biopsy just to be sure." It
is the first abnormal Pap smear I have had in my life. And it is only
four months after my last normal one in September 1999. Unless, of course,
my former doc messed up.
February 2000
I have the biopsy. Two weeks later, I am sitting at my desk at work when
I get a call. It's February 22, two days before my 46th birthday. It's
cancer. First, I am so shocked I can't think. Then I cry. I call my husband,
I have to come home. I talk to him, to my children, my mother and sisters.
All this means to me is that I am going to die. Everyone else I have ever
known that has had cancer, has died. Somehow I kept living through the
day.
March 2000
I have a D and C (dilation and curettage) and a conization. The doc thinks
it is a very localized cervical cancer. She ends up being wrong. She schedules
me for surgery at a local hospital at the end of March. A week before
the surgery, she calls me and says, "Your cell type is very aggressive,
you will need lymph node biopsies, and I am not that qualified. I am referring
you to a major cancer center in San Francisco." I am glad, but scared.
You don't get to go to this hospital if you have a simple case. I flash
back to my former boyfriend's parents, all their trips, and they died
anyway. I am feeling pretty sure life is coming to an end for me. Spring
is wasted on me. I have a pelvic CT (computed tomography) scan to look
for more tumors. They can't find any. So far so good. I keep swimming
and drinking carrot juice. It is all I can do.
April 2000
I am waiting for a surgery date. My boss wants to know my plans. My case
has to be reviewed by the tumor board. I wait and wait. My mom has to
take medication for the anxiety. I keep swimming. I am up to 12 laps a
night. I visualize my tumor as being held in by the concrete walls of
my uterus. I go on vacation with my family. I meet the surgeon. I wonder
if I will live another year, if I will have other vacations. I am depressed
and scared to death and facing major surgery.
May 15, the day after Mother's Day 2000
I go to San Francisco for my surgery. I am scared to death. I walk around
numb, chanting the 23rd Psalm to myself, "The Lord is my Shepherd,
I shall not want. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow
of death I will fear no evil for Thou art with me." Oh God help me,
I feel like I am jumping off the edge of the world. My surgery was successful,
my lymph nodes were clear, the surgeon is thankful and amazed, Stage 2a
only. I leave the hospital after five days, textbook case, smooth sailing.
Nine days later
The staples are removed, but I had a hidden infection. I split open in
a surge of blood, the ambulance came, I was sewn up, and should have been
left open. I developed a severe infection, two different types of bacteria,
treated with intravenous antibiotics for five days, rushed back to the
hospital for more antibiotics, treated with a drain tube, developed C-dif
(an intestinal infection) and had to be treated for that, the drain tube
plugged up and I developed another infection, was weak, tired, feverish,
and hot.
May - August 2000
I was home for almost four months recovering when it should have only
taken me six weeks. I was hospitalized three times over the summer. The
doctor said no chemo was effective on my kind of cancer, and wanted to
radiate me instead. But due to the infection and healing incision (which
had to be cut back open in August to let me heal right), I couldn't have
radiation. Then, since it had been so long, the docs said, "Look
it has either spread, or it hasn't. We will do another CT when you can
get out of bed."
September, 2000
Went back to work part time.
October, 2000
Went back to work full time. Had a clear CT scan at the end of the month.
January, 2001
Had a clear pap.
February, 2001
Had another clear CT scan.
March, 2001
Hanging in there.
The road I walked this year was a difficult one, but since then, I have
learned that some have had it even harder than I did, and that my sufferings
are little compared to theirs. I have learned that the bravest hearts
are not on any battlefield, but in the cancer ward, where we have to turn
and fight, sometimes more than once, and sometimes to the death. And in
the cancer ward there is no running away.
Those battling cancer are the world's most valiant souls. To those reading
this who are newly diagnosed, welcome to the club! I want to tell you
to have hope and to believe that cancer isn't a death sentence. When we
have to fight for our lives, we will find the strength to do so. I believe
that when we die is according to God's will, but it is our choice daily
how we want to live. When it comes my time to go, I will shape my death
the way I have tried to shape my life, meeting it head-on, without flinching,
and embracing the next step of my spiritual growth as a graduation, not
an annihilation.
Hugs to all,
Judy
Post script to my story
I never would have known I had cancer except for the anemia. Uterine
cancer hides well premenopause, it is seldom detected on a Pap, and causes
no pain at all. I felt so healthy after the transfusions and iron, it
was hard to believe there was anything wrong with me. I have yet to feel
that way again, and I cannot make 12 laps in the pool again. I hope to
do it again someday.
Despite my battle with cancer and the infections, I never had any pain,
except for immediately after my surgery and right after I got home. The
cancer itself never caused me any pain. And the infected wound, since
all the nerves had been severed, never hurt me, even when I was cut back
open and had to endure daily deep dressing changes.
There was never any pain then or now. Interesting how my dream was right.
And the third thing from my dream, that I would have time to get my affairs
in order. Well, that could take years...and I didn't have the message
I was going to die from the cancer...interesting.
May 2001
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