Over the course of the last two months, it seems like God is testing me. It started off innocently enough. At Timothy's four-month checkup, the doctor noticed that Tim's eyes were still drifting, and his eyelids were still drooping. We (meaning my husband and I) almost expected it. There is a long line of drooped eyelids and lazy eyes on his side of the family, starting with my husband and ending with his grandmother, with at least seven people in between. The pediatrician, who we call Dr. Chad, referred us to a REAL eye doctor. My husband had surgery at age 3 1/2 to fix his drooped eyelids, so we expected that too.
Two weeks later, we're at the eye specialist, and the doctor (who we'll call Dr. G) came in. Timmy looked at him with big blue eyes, and Dr. G almost told us there was nothing wrong with him. In the time it took him to turn, write something in the chart, and turn back, Tim's right eyelid was now drooped. This didn't surprise the doctor, and he said that was perfectly normal in cases of drooped eyelid. Again, in the time it took him to turn, write, and turn back, now his right eyelid was fine and his left eye was drooped. Dr. G about dropped his pencil. He said he had never seen this kind of drooped eyelid before, and referred us to the hospital to have bloodwork done. For any parent who has had their baby get blood drawn from their arm, you know the pain your heart projects into your soul, knowing that you, the one who was supposed to protect, is now the one putting your screaming, crying child through the process of getting blood sucked from their arm. But both Tim and mommy made it through okay, although we were both puffy, red-eyed, teared up individuals when we left.
After six weeks of impatient waiting, we got the results. Everything was normal. It was almost anticlimatic after all the waiting, but then they dropped the bombshell...they were referring us to Riley Children's Hospital in Indianapolis. They could have ripped my heart out of my chest, and suddenly I was reminded of all the pain and heartache and joy my parents went through in that hospital. That hospital saved their daughter, but it was also the same hospital where my mother held my 1 1/2 year old brother as he took his last breath, dying of something even the doctors had never heard of. I know now how my parents must have felt, knowing they were helpless. Although my son has something common and simple, I don't want my baby going through pain.
In the midst of all the waiting, it was now time for Timmy's six month checkup. Dr. Chad had asked me how I was feeling, and I told him the truth: I was exhausted to the extent of falling asleep fifteen minutes after sitting, no matter what time of day it was; I was having continuous headaches, and having severe pain in my abdomen. He sent me for blood work to test my thyroid, and an ultrasound on my abdomen. It was there they found three masses on my uterus and one on my ovary. The feeling in the pit of my stomach was equivilent to getting punched in the stomach. In an instant I saw my life, my future, slipping away. Although I realize that particular reaction was a little premature, but in our family history a lot of family members were diagnosed with cancer, and only one so far has survived. I was sent for a CT scan.
For some reason, God is smiling on me. Friday I got the results, and it was determined that the masses found were just scar tissue. So my life, though shortened quite a bit through worrying, will hopefully be a long one. I look forward to seeing the future I imagined: seeing my boys grow up, go to school, graduate, getting married, having babies, and my husband and I growing old together. Now that I think about it, any future is a great one.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
I Might Have Cancer
As if my life hasn't taken enough twists and turns, now I'm taking another sucker punch from life. At my son Timothy's six month checkup last Friday, I mentioned to my doctor that I've been feeling lethargic, to the point where if I'm sitting for longer than ten minutes, chances are good I'll be asleep. I've also been feeling lower abdominal pain. Before I knew it, I was on the exam table, and he's pressing on my belly. He pressed on my sore spot, and tears started flowing due to the pain. He sent me to the hospital to get an ultrasound performed.
The ultrasound technician was nice enough, and as she started taking pictures of my abdomen, I noticed she was taking an awful lot of pictures. All she could tell me was that she "found something". Turns out the "something" was three masses on my uterus.
Yesterday I'm at the Anticoagulation Therapy Unit getting my coumadin levels checked when I receive a phone call from the doctors office. Two of the masses could be explained away, but they said the one was consistent with one found on my uterus six months prior during my last pregnancy ultrasound, so they want to get it checked. They also found a hidden mass on my uterus, and a mass on my right ovary. So that brings the grand total to one on my ovary and two on my uterus. They ordered a CT scan and if necessary, a biopsy.
Due to my family history with cancer, I'm scared out of my freaking skull. I don't want to fight and lose. I don't want to leave my boys or my husband, and my parents have suffered enough losing two children due to illness. I don't want them to have to grieve for another child. I know that chances are good that it's nothing, but I don't want to take chances. If it means having a hysterectomy at 26, then that's what will happen. I refuse to back down, refuse to give up, and refuse to let this be a bookmark on my life and how it's seen. My cousin survived cervical cancer, and she often remarks that this is how others view her. She's not just a cancer survivor. She's a mother to three beautiful girls, a wonderful daughter, and a woman willing to sacrifice for her family. "Cancer" is a blip in the grand scheme of her life, and she hates knowing that it will be like a lone highlighted sentence in a book.
I have overcome so much. I have three blood clotting disorders that should have prevented me from having children, and yet I have two beautiful boys that are the light of my life. It also should have caused strokes or embolisms, and yet it was as if God himself touched me and prevented any further harm to me. I survived a suicide attempt in the seventh grade, lost six friends in four years during high school due to accidents (even seeing one of them t-boned by a cement truck right outside the high school parking lot), and have fought to make my marriage a good one (if not a little unorthodox :) ). So I see this as a learning and growing experience, a way to make another notch in the post of bad situations in my life that I've overcome.
In the meantime, I guess all I can do is cross my fingers, pray to god, and hope for a good outcome to this. Let's hope all I lose is a few days due to stress. :)
The ultrasound technician was nice enough, and as she started taking pictures of my abdomen, I noticed she was taking an awful lot of pictures. All she could tell me was that she "found something". Turns out the "something" was three masses on my uterus.
Yesterday I'm at the Anticoagulation Therapy Unit getting my coumadin levels checked when I receive a phone call from the doctors office. Two of the masses could be explained away, but they said the one was consistent with one found on my uterus six months prior during my last pregnancy ultrasound, so they want to get it checked. They also found a hidden mass on my uterus, and a mass on my right ovary. So that brings the grand total to one on my ovary and two on my uterus. They ordered a CT scan and if necessary, a biopsy.
Due to my family history with cancer, I'm scared out of my freaking skull. I don't want to fight and lose. I don't want to leave my boys or my husband, and my parents have suffered enough losing two children due to illness. I don't want them to have to grieve for another child. I know that chances are good that it's nothing, but I don't want to take chances. If it means having a hysterectomy at 26, then that's what will happen. I refuse to back down, refuse to give up, and refuse to let this be a bookmark on my life and how it's seen. My cousin survived cervical cancer, and she often remarks that this is how others view her. She's not just a cancer survivor. She's a mother to three beautiful girls, a wonderful daughter, and a woman willing to sacrifice for her family. "Cancer" is a blip in the grand scheme of her life, and she hates knowing that it will be like a lone highlighted sentence in a book.
I have overcome so much. I have three blood clotting disorders that should have prevented me from having children, and yet I have two beautiful boys that are the light of my life. It also should have caused strokes or embolisms, and yet it was as if God himself touched me and prevented any further harm to me. I survived a suicide attempt in the seventh grade, lost six friends in four years during high school due to accidents (even seeing one of them t-boned by a cement truck right outside the high school parking lot), and have fought to make my marriage a good one (if not a little unorthodox :) ). So I see this as a learning and growing experience, a way to make another notch in the post of bad situations in my life that I've overcome.
In the meantime, I guess all I can do is cross my fingers, pray to god, and hope for a good outcome to this. Let's hope all I lose is a few days due to stress. :)
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