The Form Letter... And The Cancer Saga Continues

In October, I had my most recent exam with my oncologist. He said everything looked good, so I headed out, glad to be done with the joys of a vault smear for four more months. On Wednesday, 12/2, I received a letter in the mail from Sibley Hospital, where my oncologist is located. It was just a standard form letter with the results. No big deal, I thought. My Paps had all been perfectly normal ever since I had my hysterectomy. It's not going to say anything meaningful right?

Well, we make plans, and God laughs.

The letter said that Pap was normal, but my HPV test came back positive. I have no shame admitting that. About 80% of Americans have some strain of HPV. I just had no idea what it meant for me in terms of my cancer. When testing for HPV, it is possible to determine the strain as well. This form did not show that.

There are actually more than 10 strains of HPV that are considered high risk. The most notable of these are strain 16 and strain 18, accounting for about 70% of cervical cancer diagnoses. But all of the high risk strains have the potential to cause cancer.

So what does this mean for me? Honestly, I have no idea. I am terrified that my cancer will come back; or that my husband has gotten HPV from me, and could develop cancer in the future. I have been calling and emailing my oncologist's office since I read the letter Wednesday night, and still have not spoken to anyone who can answer my questions. I've had some very knowledgeable friends tell me not to worry, but I just can't stop. I won't feel better until I talk to my oncologist, and he tells me that it's a low risk strain, and that it doesn't increase my chances of a recurrence.

This is what it is like to live with cancer. On December 16, I will be 18 months in remission. That doesn't mean I'm cured, because of course there is no cure for cancer. Doctors can remove tumors, but the cancerous cells can still remain dormant. If you are lucky, you remain in remission for the rest of your long, happy life. And if not, well, there are many different ways that things could go.

So for now I'm in a holding pattern. I can't move forward until I speak with my oncologist. And it's terrifying to not know what is going on, and what it really means. But I kicked cancer's ass once before, so if the absolute worst thing happens, I know I'll be able to do it again.