I don’t know how to start this blog. My mind is running a-mile-a-minute, and I am trying to comprehend things. This is not an easy conversation, and I am flooded with emotions, so please stay with me as this will not be my best writing.
There are words that no one ever wants to hear: death, infertility, and cancer are just a few. June 1, 2017, I heard the word cancer come from my doctor. I had no clue how to take it, and I was in such shock that it took a few weeks for it to fully sink in. When it finally sank in, it hit me hard.
In the beginning, I was diagnosed with stage I ovarian cancer. After going through 2 hormone transfusions and 2 laser therapies, I was rediagnosed to stage II ovarian cancer. After receiving the new diagnosis and beginning the multiple rounds of chemo and radiation was when the reality hit me: I have cancer…
Since the final diagnosis, I have undergone 17 PICC line chemo transfusions, 10 oral chemo treatments, and 13 radiation treatments. None of it was easy. I was in pain, couldn’t eat anything and had to get an NG tube, couldn’t keep myself hydrated and became IV fluid dependent, and I felt so alone at the beginning of it.
I never had support at home, and I have always struggled trusting people. It wasn’t until halfway through my fall semester when I realized that I may not physically be able to stay the whole semester. I might have to drop out. That was when I finally started talking to people and letting them in. That decision has changed everything for the better; I now have a support system that I could not go without. They have supported me through all of my treatment and continue to stand with me.
March 30, 2018, I finally reached remission! After 43 weeks, I was in remission!
I had two weeks after the news that I struggled with acceptance of what my life now consisted of including infertility and an overly high possibility of relapse. After those two weeks, I felt myself again. I was able to eat actual food and hydrate myself with drinking water. I was getting more sleep than I did before. I was not in pain anymore. I was finally in relief from the hell I faced. These two weeks of relief were well cherished.
May 1, 2018, I received the news that I relapsed…
First of all, I am beyond livid.
Second, is this real?
I feel defeated. I am not sure there is really another word to encompass how I feel right now. I am trying to just deny it for the next two weeks to get through my finals, but how? I did everything right. I did everything I was told to do and then some. I took multiple loans out to cover extra costs of suggestions that weren’t covered by insurance. I have 10s of thousands of dollars in loans to cover everything I went through, and I relapse?! How? This isn’t right. This isn’t fair. This is not how it should be. So why is it? Were 43 weeks not enough?! What did I do to deserve this? There are so many questions that run through my head with this news, but I know that they don’t have an answer. Why now? What did I do wrong? WHY ME?!
There are all these emotions rushing through me that I don’t know how to cope with: anger, confusion, denial, and lost are a few. I need to focus on my studies because I need to do well on my finals, I just can’t get myself to focus. How can I?
There is so much more that can be said about my current situation, but I am struggling to find words to honestly describe how I feel. For now, this is all I have to say. With time, I will be in a better mental state where I can express more of my feelings and be able to better describe what I am facing. If you have any suggestions or questions, please leave a comment.
Until next time, thank you for reading.