Tag: #fuckcancer

F*ck Cancer: Dog Edition

F*ck Cancer: Dog Edition

I’ve been avoiding writing about this for awhile now, and figured it was time to finally download my feelings. My dog Chuckles had surgery in late March to remove a mass on his right hind leg. The pathology came back that it was cancer. And not just any cancer, it was the rare and aggressive kind. Chuckles has a mast cell tumor, grade 3, which has almost an 80% reoccurrence rate and an 11% one year survival rate. Plus with the location of where it was on his body, they had to be careful with how much skin they took, and as a result the margins of the tumor weren’t clear. He still has cancer cells present in his body. I did, however, receive an oncology referral from the vet, and wanted to do my due diligence to investigate what my options were.

So earlier this month, I took Chuckles in to talk to a vet oncologist. And the reality of his situation hit home for me with full force. Treatment for chemotherapy and/or radiation starts around $5k and goes beyond $10k. And from the discussion with the vet oncologist, the treatment would only be to prolong his life. The best estimates were that treatment would buy a few months to potentially up to a year…if it even works at all. The vet stressed there wasn’t a guarantee.

I sobbed almost the entire drive home, talking to to my bestie, and confessed to her how I felt guilty, as if I was just letting him die by not pursuing treatment. I know intellectually that isn’t true but emotionally that’s how it feels to me. I’m letting my dog, my best friend, one of the only men I really love and cherish, die. Normally when I cry, he runs away and hides upstairs. But that day, when I came home from the vet, I reviewed the paperwork again, and as I sat and silently cried by myself, he stayed. He just sat there, laying on the living room floor, looking up at me lovingly. His solid presence, even when the bad news was about him, was comforting and heart wrenching all in the same breath.

I’ve had Chuckles for just over 10 years. We adopted him before I even knew I was pregnant with with my kiddo, but he was always my dog, bonded exclusively to me. Sure he loves and adores my daughter, but when I leave a room, he’s hot on my heels. Always by my side. My constant companion. The prognosis for him with strictly palliative treatment is from 2-6 months. I have been putting off calling the vet, to start the process of palliative care, because literally and figuratively that feels like another nail in his coffin. I’m not ready to lose him. The thought of being completely alone after he’s gone, makes my heart constrict with grief. I know in my soul I am going to make it through this, as I’ve made it through losing my father, but there is a thick layer of sadness that weighs heavy on my heart. And on top of my own feelings, I have to contend with making sure my daughter is appropriately processing her grief as well. I’m not a young 20-something like I was when I lost my dad to cancer; I’m now a mother, who is raising a very deep feeling, empathetic, kind kiddo who is going to take the death of her first dog really hard.

I have arranged for a special photoshoot next month, and am confident we will make some good memories and have wonderful photos to cherish once he crosses over the rainbow bridge. And I’m so eternally grateful for all the time I have had with him. He’s been there with me through becoming a mother, changing jobs, being my emotional support dog through my divorce, and witnessing the joy and happiness that has come from my new chapter. I love you so much bubba, and I am so thankful I got the opportunity to love and take care of you. I’ll do my best to make sure you receive the very best love and care from now until the end. You have my word.

Hi Ho It’s Off for a Biopsy I Go!

Hi Ho It’s Off for a Biopsy I Go!

I have been struggling with heavy periods for awhile now and went to see my OB/GYN. Not only do my cycles last 7-8 days, but I am having disgusting size clots that would make you gag if I were to describe the size of them to you. In addition to that fun, I am having terrible cramps as a result. I get it, my body is trying to extricate this stuff from me, but often leaves me wanting to curl into a fetal position and just sob. The pain is through my lower abdomen, radiating down the front of my thighs, and is so intense I am forced to stop and deep breathe through it. To no one’s surprise, I have been feeling depleted and exhausted both during and after my periods. I thought it may be attributed solely to perimenopause, my OB/GYN had different thoughts. Just a reminder to all the ladies out there: heavy periods aren’t normal.

During my appointment with my OB/GYN, she scheduled me for both an ultrasound and a uterine biopsy to rule out fibroids, endometriosis, ovarian and uterine cancer. Yay! My ultrasound is scheduled for Monday and the biopsy is scheduled for Tuesday. Let the worrying begin!

Although this isn’t my first biopsy (I have titanium beads in both boobs from previous biopsies!), I thought I was handling this round pretty well until I realized I wasn’t. Last Sunday afternoon, I was lying in bed trying to nap and an image came up in my mind of having to tell my daughter I had cancer. The vision felt so real I started to sob in my bed. I lost my dad to cancer, albeit lung cancer, but this is one of the biggest worries and fears as a mother. That my daughter will lose me early in life. I was 24 when my dad died, and he was only 50 years old. I am 45 years old, and in just five short years, I will be the same age as when my dad left this Earth. I wish I could tell you I don’t have paranoia about dying at the same age he did, but I do. I really, really do. And as my biopsy appointment approaches, I feel more and more anxiety creeping in. If you haven’t ever had to experience this, it is pure agony having to wait for biopsy results. As if the lead up to the procedure isn’t bad enough, those days after, when everything seems to hang in the balance while you are waiting on a pathology report, are completely excruciating.

If you read this, please say a little prayer for me or send me good vibes or anything positive. I sure could use it. Until then, I will be trying to keep myself distracted so I don’t circle down this black hole of what if scenarios until I have a panic attack.

An Emotional Week

This week has been emotional for me.  It’s been tough and I’ve been struggling with how to be a friend while trying to make sure I protect myself at the same time.

First of all, my girlfriend whose husband got laid off last month, lost her own job this week.  Long story short, she made a not-so-smart move, but had a boss that was looking for any reason to fire her.  They have two young children and have zero income now.  And since her and I have talked so much about finances, I know they are basically a paycheck-to-paycheck family.  When she called to tell me what happened, I felt sick to my stomach, because I immediately began to spin, thinking how they are going to pay for their mortgage, bills, food?  What happens when they don’t have insurance and one of them gets sick?

Had lunch with another girlfriend this week and she’s staying at her mom’s this weekend with her two children, in an attempt to give her husband a wake up call.  They recently had their 5 year anniversary and he didn’t even get her a card.  And in the past month, he got drunk and told her “he needed a break” and has stopped wearing his wedding ring.  She fought back tears telling me what was going on and I really felt for her, as she kept saying, “I just want someone to tell me what to do.”  Add to that, her mom thinks she somehow contributed to their marriage problems since she lived with them for awhile.  In the midst of dealing with her own emotions, she feels obligated to soothe and reassure her mother.  Then she has another friend telling her to be careful what you wish for, because she might find something worse out there than what she already has.  Not exactly encouraging words for someone who really needs them.

Then on Friday, I checked in on a colleague, whose aunt was recently diagnosed with terminal cancer.  The initial diagnosis came two months ago, and she was hospitalized this week with breathing problems.  The cancer has been pretty aggressive, and her lungs are now filled with tumors, in addition to her spine, other organs, etc.  They put her on hospice.  My heart was breaking as my colleague told me how her aunt was heavily medicated, but when she would wake up, would yell “Help me!” to those in her room.  Even now, typing these words out, my heart feels so heavy for their family.  It’s both a blessing and a curse to be there as someone is dying.  I know as I watched my dad die from cancer.  On one hand, you are thankful for the time and opportunity to say goodbye.  On the other, every time you leave, the worry is that it’ll be the last time you see them.  Same thing with going to bed that night, even if you’re there.  You wonder, “Is this the last goodbye?  Will they be here when I wake up?”  Then there’s the dread waking up the next morning, as you wait to discover if they are still of this earth or not.

I’ve tried to offer as much support to my girlfriends as I can, and I worry for each of them because I love them so much.  The hard part about this though is the feeling of helplessness.  I can’t get jobs for my one girlfriend, or help financially support them in any meaningful way.  I can’t repair my other girlfriend’s marriage to prevent a divorce.  And as much as I’d love to, I can’t wave a magic wand to make my colleague’s aunt’s cancer go away.  It’s hard to watch your friends going through difficult times.

But I’ve also been thinking to myself, “Is this what our future holds?  Are we prepared if one (or both) of us loses a job?  Are we going to end up as a divorced statistic sometime in the future?  Are we doing all we can to stay healthy?”  We had a job layoff in 2016 (me!) and managed that one OK.  But the divorce and cancer parts?  I can’t say we are immune to either situation.  We’ve had our fair share of problems ourselves and I have a history of cancer in my family.

If I can name one positive, this week has been a reminder to me to be grateful. Thankful for what we have, and that at the moment, we aren’t going through a crises of our own.  Life is hard, and the moments without struggle are fleeting.