diagnosis: a retrospective

It's been a little over a year since I was diagnosed with cervical cancer, and I'm reflecting for a few reasons. Obviously, the timing. But then there's my darling friend who is now stage 4, still fighting strong. I've had the pleasure to connect with a young woman just beginning her journey. A lovely friend passed away from this God awful disease a few weeks ago. It's all made me think.

At the beginning of April 2014, I had a routine Pap smear. I was long overdue. I'm not sure what I hate more, the gynecologist or the dentist. Either way, I wasn't keen on going. But I had been having strange symptoms (TMI alert): irregular bleeding, heavy periods, increased and foul smelling discharge. Since I didn't know anything about cervical cancer or it's symptoms, I chalked it all up to normal.

I saw a million doctors. I even had two colonoscopies and an endoscopy. And everything came back normal. So I went for the dreaded Pap smear as a last result.

The Pap went fine, or at least as fine as those things go. My gynecologist didn't say anything of any significance, and I went on my merry way.

The following week, I started getting calls from her office. No messages were left, so I assumed it was just the typical follow up call to say all was well. I finally answered the third call, and it was my gynecologist herself. She said to me "You have adenocarcinoma. Cervical cancer. You need to see an oncologist immediately."

I went into shock. There was no way. She told me to come by her office to pick up the lab paperwork so I could take it to the oncologist. I drove there in a daze. I looked over the paperwork, and there it was: adenocarcinoma in situ.

I was terrified. I had no idea what this meant for me. How sick was I? What kind of treatment would I need? And (yes, vain, I know), would I lose all my hair?

Finding a gyn-oncologist was difficult, but I found a fantastic one. His name is Jeffrey Lin, and he works at Sibley Memorial Hospital (a Johns Hopkins hospital) in DC. When he examined me, he said that I was either pre-cancerous, or stage 1a1. The next step was to do a cone biopsy. This would involve removing a portion of my cervix to determine how deep the cancer was. If they got clean margins (basically removing all the cancer), I would need no further treatment. But if there weren't clean margins, I would need additional treatment.

The margins were not clear. I was restaged as 1b1 - still extremely low. My options were radiation or a radical hysterectomy. I chose the hysterectomy, as I have 3 amazing boys, and no plans to have any other children. He also advised that radiation could result in a "short, stiff vagina," which didn't sound like fun at all. So we scheduled the surgery. I had to wait for the biopsy to heal first, so my appointment for my hysterectomy was scheduled for 6/16/2014. Would I need additional treatment after that? We wouldn't know until the surgeries and biopsies that would come along with it.

Cancer is a waiting game. You take one step to determine what the next step will be. You don't know how bad things really are until you take that step. And that is TERRIFYING. But the antidote to the terror is hope and faith. I sought out other women who had been where I was, or were going through it themselves. I found support, love, advice, laughter, and tears.

I educated myself as best I could about what to expect. Then I settled in to wait.

No One Fights Alone - Three Hundred Strong

Me & Mel, the belle of the ball

I've written before about my beautiful, strong teal sister, Melissa, and her fight against cervical cancer, which has now metastasized. This past Saturday, I was lucky enough to travel to her hometown for a beef & beer fundraiser thrown for Mel by her amazing sister in law, Danielle. I met three of my teal sisters for the very first time: Mel, Amanda, and Jennifer. And it was like we'd known each other our entire lives. We've shared so much over the last year, sorrows, triumphs, laughter and tears. Our friendship may have been born from an ugly thing, but the love we have for each other is beautiful and genuine.

So the beef and beer... It was insane! 300 people came out, all to support Mel. Gloss Salon had a table set up to put in teal extensions (obviously I had to get two), there were two raffles, and all the proceeds go to help Mel in her fight. The night epitomized it's title: No One Fights Alone.

And the best part of the night! In a huge surprise, Mel and Ed, her fiance of 8 years got up on stage and GOT MARRIED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It was beyond perfect.

Sealing the deal

True love

I am so grateful to have been a part of such a magical night. And I'm so grateful to Mel and Ed's families for bringing me into the fold. I love you all so much, and I can't wait to see you again. Getting to hug these ladies who have been my rocks through my own cancer journey was worth more than anything.

no one fights alone

Strong, brave and beautiful inside and out

You can't capture Melissa's essence in a sentence. There are no words to explain how powerful she is, how brave, how strong. Last year, she was diagnosed with stage 1b2 cervical cancer, and she fought like a warrior: surgery, chemo, radiation, all the things she was supposed to do to eradicate the cancer from her body. She struggled, mentally and physically, but she kept a smile on her face, and always had a way of lifting up other ladies battling this dreadful disease. When treatment ended, she took some much deserved r&r in her happy place.

She came back home to have a PET scan done. She'd started experiencing debilitating pain. And then the other shoe dropped. Not only had the cancer fled her body in the face of treatment, it had metastasized. She was restaged to stage 4.

When I found this out, my heart shattered into a million pieces. Despite never having met in real life, her pain became my own. Mel, another dear friend, Amanda, and I are the three musketeers. Cancer besties. We each have walked our own path of hell through this disease, and it is so fucking unfair to watch someone we love so much have to deal with this. Her options are limited. Her oncologist gave her a 10 - 15% chance. She's checking items off her bucket list. And that makes me cry. No one so young should have to go through this. No one should have to make the choices she is faced with.

Mel's sister-in-law, Danielle, is hosting a benefit next weekend to raise money to help with medical bills. Even though the reason for the event is not a happy one, I know that there will be nothing but smiles and laughter (and ok, tears too). While we had hoped to meet under better circumstances, when everyone was healed from treatment, Amanda and I will be there to support our beloved friend and teal sister. To say I can't wait to hug these two women is the understatement of the century.

Every day I pray that the doctors are proven wrong. I know Mel is a fighter. I know she won't rest until she turns over every last rock and finds the magical treatment lying underneath. The picture above is the face of cancer - beautiful, self assured, strong.

Mel, I love you. For late night cry fests, for texts and PMs if you don't see me on Facebook, for that unique, indescribable quality that makes you who you are. No matter what, I am always by your side.