So, the journey starts.
Last several days were a whirlwind. On Nov 30, I went to see a primary care physician with some symptoms that have been bothering me last six weeks. Pelvic exam in the office showed something. That necessitated a visit with a gynecologist, who in turn wasted no time in setting up an emergency appointment with a gynecologic oncologist. Meanwhile, the biopsy taken from the gynecologist's office came back positive for cancer, and the ultrasound scan and CT scan show a lot of things all over the abdominal cavity. Including, in the liver. This makes the cancer stage 4, and there is no stage 5.
The best bet is ovarian cancer.
All this is new to me. I have alway been looked up as a symbol of good health and youth. At age 51, most people thought I was barely 35. 5'6'' 120 pounds, fit and active with no grey hair. Regular check up religiously. Last gyn check up was April/10.
Never had health problem. I don't even have mild headaches or indigestion problems, EVER! No symptoms whatsoever until about six weeks ago when I started to be a bit short on breath and feel full around my mid section. Never occurred to me that it might be cancer - none of these was severe.
From that to this in just about 4-5days. I have a lot to get used to. I will see my oncologist for the first time on Wed. Already my primary care physician (based on CT scan, etc) suspects stage 4.
The first thing I did when I suspected what it might be was a Google search on survival statistics. On the surface, it looks grim (below 20% for 5 year survival). However, I am a statistician. I know how the numbers are generated. This number is based on aggregate total population of women, which includes much older women, women in ill health to begin with, women without a good support network and/or financial resources, women who don't have access to the top notch medical facilities and experts, women who are not as disciplined as I am to do everything right in terms of healthy choices and life style habits, and women who do not have the mental resources (both intellectual and attitudinal) that I have. The statistical curve that generated the 5 year survival rate is NOT the curve that applies to me. I believe I have a very rational ground to predict that I will be at the far right side of the curve - an outlier.
Amidst all this, I am profoundly relieved that it's me in this family that is going through something like this. It would devastate me to see any of my kids in this situation. I don't think I can take it if my husband has to go through this. Among all the members in this family, I believe I am the one who can handle this with more grit and perseverance. So, even with all of this happening, I have a lot to be grateful for.
I am definitely grateful for the fact that this did not occur two years ago: I would not have been able to help Jon go through the process of getting an amazing full ride scholarship in one of the top colleges in the country (long story, but the kind of scholarship process that takes a very long time to build up).
I am grateful that it did not happen three years ago when Daniel was still going to high school at home: I am glad that he had a great, carefree finale to the wonderful adolescent high school years. He is on such a good path now at a college that is perfect for him.
I have so much to be grateful for, not the least of which is my unbelievably supportive husband. Even without resorting to "I had wonderful life and great family" line of death bed declaration, I can put together a list of all the mundane things I am blessed with that will let me beat the published stats, starting with an otherwise perfect health and all the way to one hell of an iron clad health insurance policy we have. In short, even with this disease, I have been dealt a winning hand, and I am profoundly grateful for that.
That said, as a statistician, I can't ignore the possibility that I may end up falling on the opposite end of the curve. So, then, what happens? The most important thing in this scenario is the legacy I leave behind. I need to leave something positive, something that will help my husband and two kids move on with a sad, perhaps, but uplifting view of who I was and what they meant to me. Perhaps, it's a delusion of grandeur, but I feel that I have a singular power to control this. From this moment on, how I conduct myself each moment, each day will be written in a book that will remain with my family long after I am gone. I don't have all the answers yet on exactly how best to write this book - I am just running to orient myself in this long journey (I hope "long"). What is clear already though is, I need to think way beyond myself. I need to be honest and earnest. I need to get out of the mindset that this is all about me, because it is not. It's more about them, and that's what I should aim for.
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