A Disease of More

Scanning Electron Micrograph of cancer cells

We talk in OA about compulsive overeating being a disease of MORE. I need more. I want more. More food. More attention. More love. More. More. More. But I can tell you that cancer is indeed a disease of MORE. First the cells are dividing out of control. More. Then the imagination takes over and won’t stop. More. Where is it now? Did they get it? Why does my head hurt? My eyes? My ears are ringing? Is that the cancer too? Is it really arthritis or bone cancer? The cancer is in the thinking and won’t stop, it goes all night. What did the doctor say again? What do I have to do next? Where will I find _______ (fill in the blank)? It may have started in the ovaries, but it has spread to my entire psyche.

But Overeaters Anonymous teaches me that there is a solution to a disease of MORE. And that is by living in the moment. By breathing in the moment and knowing all is as it should be. There is so much to be grateful for: it was caught early; surgery will remove organs that I don’t really need; chemo will get the rest; I have a Program of Recovery that teaches me how to live; I have more friends than ever; and, I am in the best shape I have ever been in. I remember that I may be powerless over the disease, but I am not powerless over what I do now. I am not a helpless, hapless victim.  When I need help, I must ask for it – even if I am not sure what it is I need. I must, however, accept what is offered. I used to ask for help and then refuse the offered hand – even God’s. That is not fair to me or the person offering the help. And I must reach out and help others when and where I can, in whatever way I can. It may not be the same way I do now, for a while, but I can still pick up the phone and listen. I can smile when I walk down the street. I can say “Please” and “Thank You” when I interact with others. The only way out of my head is through helping another. The best thing is, I may not even know I’m doing it.

Visit 1 with Oncologist

I just spent hours trying to write something for on here about how the visit with the oncologist went.

I listened to the recording of the visit and typed up notes.

And realized I am too tired and emotionally drained to be witty and creative. So here it is in brief:

I have Stage 1c ovarian cancer grade II. (That’s good)

I am going ahead with open surgery to remove uterus, cervix, lymph nodes in pelvis and along aorta, remove the omentum, and to fix surgical hernia from 2002.

Depending on what they find during surgery, if diagnosis stays as 1c I will need only 3 rounds of chemo.

The alternative was to skip surgery and go right to 6 rounds of chemo.

I am impressed by this surgeon. I went with my gut. I like what she had to say. And I really like that they already know what they are dealing with inside me; the scar tissue, the nooks and crannies, if you will. I like the whole person approach.

The surgery won’t be until the 3^rd week of July probably.

A chest x-ray. Some blood.

Many questions were answered.

Many more were raised. But now I have a place to start and can do some research.

Thank you all for your prayers and support.

Little by slowly, one day at a time.

What Happened? (Continued)

Continuing my story, my husband and I met with the surgeon Tuesday and she described what the surgery was like for her. This was helpful for me as I am a scientific, visual person. Remember, this was supposed to be a simple snip, snip hour and a ½, couple of cysts, ovary, done deal.

It was not what she had planned for her day either. Once she got inside and saw what she saw, she called her supervisor, got help and pretty much canceled the rest of her day. She said that once she spoke to my husband after the surgery, she just went somewhere and cried because of what she saw inside me.

All my weight loss causes loose skin inside as well as outside. And we learned from my hip surgery that I am a bleeder. So with laparoscopic surgery they usually just poke a hole in you and fill you up like a balloon to create space. But I guess I filled up with blood which scared them a bit. I just think all that loose skin is pretty vascular, that’s all. But when they figured out I was okay and it cleared up, they then saw I was a mess anyway.

The Right ovary was pretty much what was expected from the ultrasound. But when they went to take it out “it ruptured like a rotten tomato.”  That’s when they sent things immediately to be biopsied and it came back malignant. As they waited they started on the left ovary, which was supposed to be the smaller cyst and they were supposed to try to keep the ovary. Now this was like a scene from Jaws. As they teased the cyst away it popped out and it was larger and worse looking than the one they just removed. I’m glad I was asleep.

The report came back from the first ovary as mucinous. Which is why they decided to keep the uterus in. if it had come back endometrioid then, I think they would have made a different decision. But the other thing is because of the bypass surgery in 2002, I have a lot of scar tissue. One thing they will have to remove is my omentum (the fatty apron covering the intestines). Mine is enmeshed with scar tissue with the intestines. She looked at it. It would not have been easy to do last Thursday laparascopically. If at all. The other thing they found was a free floating “third kidney.” Just a mass of scar tissue. Blood really. A hematoma that has been in me since the surgery in 2002. So they removed that.

Remember, this is my version. It is not by any means a lab report and will not hold up in any court. It helps me understand until I talk to the oncologist Tuesday and get the real scoop.