So once again I've been incommunicado. It is for a number of reasons, some simply time related (I have less than I would like); some slightly more complicated. Let's go through a couple pieces of business:
1. This blog and its author will be publicly outed in a matter of weeks. That is, my real name will appear in print, linked to this blog, and people who did not know I had a blog will soon know that I do. It also means that I am slightly uncertain how to approach writing about non-cancer-related personal stuff and, for that matter, cancer-related personal stuff. I've actually gone through and removed some older posts or pieces of older posts when they've talked about other people who had no idea they were being written about. It's one thing to write about Boyfriend-the-Former when no one reading this knows him; it's an entirely different thing to write about him (or anyone else for that matter) when he is readily identified by anyone who knew me back when we were together.
I don't want things I wrote back when this blog was entirely anonymous to become points of contention in my relationships with people who may have been written about.
As for how I'll handle writing about people who are currently in my life -- well, I'll play that by ear. There a number of things I would like to be writing about right now, but I'm not certain if I should. Sorry if I'm being cryptic, just bear with me while I sort this out.
2. I will be meeting with someone over the next couple weeks to talk about a writing project which is connected in part to many of the topics discussed on this blog. I'll be posting more about this after the initial meetings.
3. I am seeing my new gyn/onc for the first time today at 1:30pm.
I went to the hospital last week for blood draws for my CA-125 test. I went by myself. I always go by myself. As I went to three different departments before finally getting the right requisition to have my blood drawn, I was reminded why I do this stuff by myself.
I almost lost it in the hospital.
I haven't dealt with this in awhile. It's been over a year since my last oncologist appointment (and Mom and Dad, if someone happens to direct you to this blog and you read this -- you're not allowed to bring this up. I don't want to talk about this with you, I'm sorry.) I also haven't had to introduce myself to 17 different people as a follow-up ovarian cancer patient. When I was first diagnosed, there was the stream of people who would look at my charts and say but you're so young, and it was tiresome and made me feel really sorry for myself not only because I had cancer, but also because my cancer and age made these people -- these people who see cancer all the time -- feel sorrier for me than they did for many other patients. Going in for blood draws brought that all back. I was mistaken for a family member of an ovarian cancer patient (my hospital has a Familial Breast and Ovarian Cancer clinic), and I had to explain a couple times that the CA-125 test I needed was for follow-up. That I had already had cancer and wasn't just trying to watch out for it.
When I finally got to the right department to have the requisition for blood tests ordered, the nurse who works with my new gyn/onc came out and introduced herself to me. I don't remember what we talked about, but I'm sure I listed off my diagnosis and treatment -- Serous papillary ovarian cancer, stage 3A, grade 1, total abdominal hysterectomy and bilateral oopherectomy, removal of the omentum and appendix, 6 treatments of taxol and carboplatin. I know my pathology almost by heart. I've read through the report one hundred times. The story never changes.
I couldn't have dealt with the emotions of being there in the hospital if someone else was with me. Another person would have wanted to calm me down and ease my mind when seeing me counting out breaths with my fingers to keep from hyperventilating. There would have been distracting comments or well-meaning it-will-be-okays and then the panic attack would really have set in. I don't think I could have someone help me keep the tears at bay when I repeat for the umpteenth time in a voice I cultivated to use only in the hospital that I am being seen as a follow-up patient for ovarian cancer and I need to have my blood drawn and yes I am very young, I am only 26 and I was even younger when it happened.
As it was, I made it through the blood draw without breaking down, though I couldn't look anyone in the eyes when I talked to them and I ran outside when it was done, and sat on the curb and counted my breaths until it no longer hurt my chest to breathe.
I talk a lot about my cancer now -- I keep on practising -- and I say that I am okay with it now because I guess that is what I should be saying. Because it's easier to say I'm better now and I've dealt with it than it is to say Actually, I don't think I'm okay, I don't think I'll be okay for a long long time, if ever.
But of course you already know that. I've probably said this before.
So long post finished. I'll try to update tomorrow evening after the oncologist visit -- unfortunately the CA-125 results won't be back until the end of the week, so there will be some anxiety and unanswered questions for a few more days yet.
Wish me luck.
