One Year Ago...

One year ago this week... 

• I jokingly told my nephew Adam I thought I might have Ovarian cancer.  He jokingly replied "I hope not cause its really deadly and I probably won't see you again if you do."
• I felt my bloated stomach and it felt as hard as a rock.
• I knew I should call a Dr. to see if something was wrong.
• Dr. Brown's office miraculously had a cancellation for an appointment.
• Told Becky and Nanette at New Beginnings I probably had uterine fibroids and was having an ultrasound the next day.  Starting crying talking about it.  
• I looked at the ultrasound technicians face and knew I didn't have uterine fibroids.  Deep inside I knew I had cancer.
• I told Dave in the most awful way possible .... txt'd him while he was in the dentist chair "not fibroids... ovarian cancer."
• I sat shaking in my chair waiting for the technician to come in and tell me I needed to go see Dr. Brown at her office and tried to hold it together and he walked me out of the room.
• I sat in Dr. Browns office shaking and she hugged me and told me it would be ok.   She was going to get me the best Dr. and take care of me.
• I broke down in the hall of the hospital and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.  What kind of mom gets ovarian cancer and dies... leaving her kids without a mom? 
• I sobbed at my sister's house until I could get it together to meet Dave.
• I met Dave in a parking lot and cried.
• We came home and told the kids and they planned Dave's ldssingles account.
• I had 3 phone calls from Drs. by 8:45 am the next morning and knew this was serious.  Dumped maturation program on Misty and sobbed in her driveway.
• Went to my first CT scan with Jenn and texted Lisa.  "Do you know anything about Dr. Zempolich."  Her reply -- "Oh she does all of the big horrible abdominal cancer surgeries none of the other Drs. want to do."  Oh shoot -- shouldn't have asked Lisa that question.  Didn't I learn yesterday not to text about cancer?
• Went home and called Lisa.  Horrible way to tell a friend.  
• Called my family and some of my friends.  I can still remember exactly where I was standing in my room when I called Lisa, where I was in Costco parking lot when I called Scott, driving up 5th South with Dave when I called my dad.  
• Met with Dr. Zempolich and felt so comfortable turning over my life to her.  In awe she would come in on her day off for me.  Amazed that my surgery was set up to happen in just a couple of days. 
• Held it together pretty well during the day -- sobbed and sobbed and sobbed in bed each night.
• Sitting in R.S. feeling so small and lonely when Stephanie Orison looked at me.  I could tell she was going to tell everyone I need their prayers.  As much as I did not want people to know, it felt like a relief not to carry this by ourselves.
• Sat at my kitchen table listening to Roxanne's advice about surgery, chemo, cleansing, etc.  So grateful I had someone who I had watched endure this garbage for the last year -- and was still alive and positive and loving life. 

Even now -- a year later as I type this tears are rolling down my cheeks and I'm having hard time holding it together.  The pain, the fear, the shock, the disbelief, the guilt, the anger all comes back in an instant.  The words "You Have Ovarian Cancer" still just make my stomach turn.

But as my great friend and personal cheerleader Rochelle told me, I'll never have to have the shock of hearing those words again.  

And what also comes back to me is all of the love and support and encouragement.  Dave taking over my life, Jenn sitting with me waiting for appointments, my kids stepping up and giving me so much love, my family so close by our side, my sister telling me she wished she could take this for me, so many offers of service I don't even know what to do, Becca taking all of the calls for me, and on and on.  

I still try to go back to the night before my surgery and how I felt. Oddly, I felt peace.  Sometimes during the past year I look back and think it might not have been peace as much as naivety.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have been able to imagine how horrible some moments of that next year would be.

In so many ways I've learned so much --- and sometimes I feel like I've learned so little.

Tonight -- I feel good.  I feel positive.  I feel like I can beat this whole thing.  

At one year my CA 125 is great (10).  Anything under 35 is normal. 800 at surgery and now for the past 4 months it bounces around from 8 to 11.  

Even with chemo and graves and everything else I am back to the most part of living a fairly normal life. 

I was reminded this week how cruel this disease is.  One of my cancer friends that gave me a lot of encouragement and support when I really needed it, is not doing too well right now.  Stupid cancer seems to be getting the best of her.  My heart aches and breaks for her and her family.

One of my other cancer friends just got her results back and everything is great!  

I know that at any time I could be either one of them.

Someone asked me yesterday what my prognosis is.  I rambled off the stats, explained my pros and cons, what I'm trying to do eating and exercising, etc., talked about how I feel emotionally... and then stopped.  

Bottom line is -- my prognosis is whatever Heavenly Father wants it to be. 

He has guided me through the last year and will continue to guide me... in what I hope is a very long life.  

A year later.... I'm pretty darn proud of myself.  I'm tougher than I ever thought I could be.  My family and friends love me more than I deserve.   I've had blessings that I've not even asked for. 

A year later .... I'm just so very grateful I could look back on this and smile at the fact that all things considered, I feel pretty darn good!

As for tomorrow, and I might not say the same thing.  That is one thing I have learned.  Take this day by day, don't expect too much, remember if I ever did think I had control of my life I was wrong. 

A year later ... just so glad it is a year later!