What You Need to Know About Having a Hysterectomy and Medical Induced Menopause

Something that I’ve been thinking a lot about is how when you are a ‘sharer’ and you put your stuff out into the world, it always seems to land in the laps of those who need to read it. In the moments when I want to close up and fight the calling from deep within to share more of my story, more of the raw and precious parts that I often want to hide, I remember the random emails and DM’s that find their way to me that say, “thank you for sharing your story. I’m going through this too and needed to hear this.”

It’s been four and a half months since I had my hysterectomy and I’ve had countless people reach out to me because they found this post I wrote about deciding to have mine back in July. Most of them are Lynch Syndrome too and every time I read the parts of their story they share, I find myself overwhelmed by how many people are walking this earth and how every single one of them is going through their own stuff. Their own worries and fears and pain and healing.

Truth be told, I haven’t regretted my decision at all. That’s not to say I haven’t had my moments of deep grief and reckoning with what this type of surgery really means and the reality that, there is no going back. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. There is no going back to my doctor and saying, “Um, doc. Ah, can you like, put it all back in me now cause I think I made a mistake. I, um, I think I actually do want to try for some kids. Yeah, I think I made a mistake”

I think that has been the hardest part. Really accepting that I no longer have a place to grow life. I no longer get to dream of growing that life inside of me. I will never know what that is like. I will never feel a first kick or feel that rush of excitement when my water breaks. I will never be consumed with the complex emotions when the life is pulled out of me and placed in my arms. And well, that makes me sad and I’d be lying if I said I don’t have moments when I succumb to those harsh realities, curl up on the couch and mourn what will never be mine. And that is okay. I will do that for as long as I need to.

But I don’t regret my decision because something deep within me knew it was time and a few weeks later I got the confirmation that had been whispering to me from deep within. Upon hearing that the pathology report showed premalignant lesions (pre-cancer), I smiled behind my cloth mask back up at my doctor and all I could say was, “I knew it. I knew something wasn’t right. I f*&king knew it.” And then I apologized for swearing.

So now that a bit of the dust has settled I figured it was time to answer some of the more burning questions I have gotten about the surgery and menopause.

Ah menopause.

With this surgery I had my uterus, ovaries, fallopian tubes and cervix removed. It’s all gone and it’s honestly still weird to think that those organs that lived in my body for thirty-nine years are sitting in a trash can somewhere.

Without the female reproductive organs I have no period and no hormones that were developed every month from that area. This is an automatic admission into the very stage of life we, as women, are taught to fear from a very early age.

It’s suppose to happen naturally, with age not medically induced and this was something I really struggled with. It felt so preemptive for so long to me that I had a really hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I would officially be in menopause, something I felt like I was years away from.

In reality, because of the radiation treatment I had in July and August of 2017 due to my metastatic cancer diagnosis, I was already partially in menopause which was confirmed by my doctor when he visited me in the hospital the next day. My left ovary was completely menopaused and my right had endometriosis and there was a shit ton of scar tissue. It also confirmed that I would have never been able to have kids naturally.

Know It’s Forever

I’m in several Facebook groups for Lynch Syndrome and one for Menopause support and sometimes I can’t believe how cavalier some people are about elective surgeries such as a Hysterectomy. Part of this, in my opinion, is because of the nonchalant attitude you get from a lot of the medical community, mine included. Although I really like my surgeon, at times I felt he was very dry about a very serious subject. When I asked about menopause he didn’t have a lot to say other then the fact that I can go on HRT (hormone replacement therapy) and that because of my age, I’ll probably be fine.

And then there is what I mentioned above. There is no going back so chill for a sec, take a breath and take the time to really think this through.

Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT)

At the time of my surgery I was thirty-nine and my biggest concern was being stuck with gnarly hot flashes so I opted to go on HRT. I’m on a patch called Estrodial and it’s time released. I wear the same patch for a week. I honestly don’t know that it works but wearing it does something to my brain and makes me think it actually works. So I wear it. I currently need to schedule an appointment with my oncologist and discuss it further because like I said, I’m not sure it works and the ones my insurance pays for are big and ugly. Not the cute little see through ones that put on in the hospital.

Hot Flashes

I started experiencing hot flashes after I finished radiation therapy. I remember sitting on the couch and being overcome with this intense feeling of my body being on fire and having to rip my shirt off. Yes, it was that dramatic. Sweat came out of nowhere and was chilling out under my boobs and dripping down my back and chin. Hot flashes are not fun. The first week after surgery I laid in bed and just waited for them to hit like everyone talks about but it was actually a slow progression which may be due to the fact that I was already in partial menopause. I hear that for some women, especially with medically induced menopause, they hit like a freight train. For me, it was more like the Spirit of Washington dinner train, slow and steady chugging along to insure you really get the full experience.

I mostly just get them at night. Actually, I only get them at night. When I’m suppose to be asleep. During the witching hour. I wake and it feels like my skin is on fire and I want to crawl out of it but can’t figure out how so I rip off all of my clothes and lay there naked only to find myself freezing five minutes later putting it all back on. If anything is touching me I feel as if I will cry. It doesn’t last long but it is intense.

Mentality

I can’t say this enough - this is a NO GOING BACK surgery. Once it is done, it’s done. I feel like surgery is just thrown at us so often these days that it’s really important to really think about the consequences and where you are at in your life. If you have the luxury to sit on it for a bit, please please do so and talk with a mental health professional first.

Pain

You are going to feel like shit for a few days but not like the worst you could feel, just super uncomfortable and full of air. My surgery was robotic which was nothing compared to when I had part of my colon removed and they cut me open from the top of my pubic bone to my belly button. That was literally the most painful thing I have every experienced, besides the infection I got from that surgery.

Here’s an image to show my incisions. If you look close, you can see my other scars too! My stomach is cute but it also looks like Freddy Kruger and I got caught in a wrestling match.

The pain from this surgery comes from all the air they pump in you to get the robotic arms in the five small incisions. Once that subsides, you mostly feel like you got hit by a truck for about two weeks. I was working out again about that time. Oh, an they pull all the organs out through your vagina so that didn’t feel too great afterwards either :)

Insomnia

This sucks. There is no other way of describing it. As someone who cherishes sleep greatly and needs a good amount of it, the 1pm wake ups that last anywhere from 1-3 hours have been gnarly. Mainly because regardless, I still naturally wake up between 5 am and 6 am. Some things that have been helping:

Mary Ruth’s Nighttime Minerals

Natrol Melatonin Advanced Sleep Formula - I think I got this at Whole Foods.

Edibles - honestly, this one is rare but if need be, I just get a little baked before bed and sleep like a baby :) and I mean, I live in Seattle so they are everywhere.

Mood Swings

Honestly, this hasn’t been an issue for me. I was already a moody person ;). Kidding. Not really but seriously, I’m actually WAY more chill and calm post surgery. I think mainly because I had already started the transition process after radiation, my hormonal decline wasn’t as dramatic as it would be had I not been in partial menopause already. I’ve also been working with a therapist for the past two months and doing EMDR therapy and I feel like that is providing a lot of help with addressing things that would normally cause the pendulum to swing. I also think because there was so much damage to that part of my body that all the scar tissue and the hormonal imbalances were messing with my mental health.

Hair Loss

It’s all making sense now. After radiation my hair started falling out in clumps and breaking and I have had a really hard time getting it back to healthy ever sense. It’s slow to grow and it frustrates the hell out of me. I want long hair damnit! But alas, it barely reaches my shoulders after three years.

In July I stumbled across Organic Olivia’s Mane Magic and decided to try it and holy hell, it is literally one of the only things that has actually worked. I also got more compliments on my hair the next month then I have in the three years post treatment. Surprisingly, I got the most compliments about my hair when I was going through treatment. I also was told I was glowing all the time to which I would laugh out loud and say, “Well, I’m in the middle of radiation so that may be why.”

Nettles and Hibiscus Tea - I also drink this every day and I think it adds a softness to my hair. You can get this pretty much anywhere.

Weight Gain

Honestly, this was a HUGE fear of mine. Partly because I have had pretty bad body dysmorphia in the past and had an eating disorder for about fifteen years. Well, not even partly. That is like, the whole reason. And even though I am in a great place with my body now and have done a lot of work around my fears of gaining weight, this experienced triggered me and I had a bit of a resurgence.

For whatever reason, I thought I was going to wake up and magically put on twenty pounds. I think my ‘people’ grew really tired of my obsessive worrying about this. It’s been four and a half months and I have actually lost weight. Something to take into consideration is YOUR body type, activity level, and diet. I’m naturally small and petite. I work out regularly, I don’t adhere to a diet per se but I do eat mostly plant based but if I want a burger, I eat a burger.

Bowel Movement Changes

Maybe this is TMI but hey, when you have part of your colon removed at twenty-four and are left with a temporary ileostomy bag you just don’t give a shit anymore. Ha! See how I did that. I’m so puny! Anyway, I went from being chronically constipated to free flowing after surgery. My surgeon told me that I had an extreme case of scar tissue through that area so my theory is that it was creating issues for my bowels. Once that was all out they were like, “cool, now I can finally do my thing again…sixteen years later.”

Fatigue

This was very challenging for me. I’m a natural “go getter” and I like to do. I love bouncing around throughout my day either in my shop or working on other projects and the fatigue has been hard for me. I’m tired. A lot. Like, all the time. Not just tired but T.I.R.E.D. Even four and a half months later I am always tired. Listen to your body and rest. Even though this surgery is mostly robotic, it’s still major surgery and your body is getting used to living without those parts, a hormonal decline and all the mental stuff that comes with it. Sometimes I go to bed at 7 pm, other times my body is like “Hey! It’s 9 pm! Let’s get this day started!” Like right now.

Sex

It feels really weird to talk opening about my sex life on the internet but it is a huge part of this experience. You are told when you have this surgery that nothing can go inside you for twelve weeks. I take these things very seriously because I have heard horror stories which I will spare you but if you want to know them just shoot me a message. I am single as well and not currently dating anyone and not into casual sex (no judgment! Just not my thing) so this one has yet to be explored but I will say this, I am extremely nervous about it. Sex is great. Like, REALLY great and I hope my body doesn’t throw a tantrum when I try it again. To be continued…

Well, I think that is a good place to end it. As I think of more and experience more I will add it to this post. I think something important to remember is that everyone is different. I’ve heard that you should look to how your mom responded to menopause (if you have that privilege). My mom said she barely had symptoms and she also was thrown into medical induced menopause at forty-four because of a hysterectomy.

As always, you can reach out to me to talk. It’s not an easy decision and definitely not one to be taken as lightly as it often is.

Amanda’s Email: amandawhitworthcreative@gamil.com
Find Me on Instagram: @_sawdustandsoul

The Stories That Lie Just Beneath

Sometimes I stand staring at my naked body in the mirror running my fingers along the scars that scatter my stomach as if they were braille and I was trying to read the stories that live buried deep beneath them.

I try and remember the intimate details of memories from a long time ago. All that comes to mind are vague and scattered ones. Only bits and pieces, sounds, and smells.

The beeping of the machine that connected the pic line into my inner bicep that pumped the three different liquids into me fighting to keep the infection at bay and keep me alive. I remember the day the technician came into my room to insert the pic line and how while she was inserting the line up my arm she told me that if the line went the wrong direction she could blow out my eardrum and how I started crying and demanded that she stop and asked if there was another way and how they wheeled me down somewhere else to finish what she started.

I remember another procedure in a cold room in the basement of the hospital a week after my first surgery when they asked me to lie on my stomach and how I looked at them as if they were crazy and around the room realizing I was all alone and had nobody to defend for me. I sobbed because I was so scared of the pain. My stomach had been cut open and they were asking me to lie flat on it and I still could barely even walk by myself. They gave me valium to calm me down as they inserted the plastic tube into my left butt cheek and deep into my pelvis to help drain the infection that was trying to kill me.

Then the muffled voices of doctors and nurses shuffling around the hallway. I remember Chris the Charge Nurse and how I loved her and everyone that worked on the Swedish seven southwest surgical floor.

I remember watching my mom sob uncontrollably at the end of the hall as they wheeled me back for emergency surgery right after my surgeon told us he was going to have to give me a temporary ileostomy bag. She sobbed for me because she knew my biggest fear was coming true but I was too sick to care. She cared enough for both of us and that image of her crying as she watched me roll away is burned into my mind.

And the mixed smells of sterilization and illness that wafted throughout the halls and the taste that filled my mouth as they injected certain drugs into my line.

I remember waking up in my room from the first surgery, eyes fluttering open, head still foggy from anesthesia and pain meds. The pain I’ll never forget. The excruciating pain and staring up at my older brother looking down at me with his big hopeful smile as I whispered, “Am I going die?”

I trace the smooth six-inch reminder of this time knowing these memories will never go away. These memories will always be there teasing me with the complicated emotions that come from a trauma like this. That one time when someone else’s mistake cost me something great and how what I didn’t know then was that I’d never be able to have children because of it.

There are other memories too. Ones that make me smile. Like how if it wasn’t for that time in my life my older brother would have never met his wife and I wouldn’t have my niece and nephews. She was the nurse that happened to be in the hall when my mom rushed to find help as I stood sobbing naked in the bathroom after the seal broke on my temporary ileostomy bag and everything starting leaking down my leg to the ground below. I remember the door opened and she was backlit by the sunlight and I couldn’t see her face, I could only hear her sweet, comforting voice and somehow I just knew she’d be in my life forever.

Or how every night my dad would come into my hospital room and curl up on the reclining chair next to my bed and we’d watch a documentary about the Green River Killer or the latest on the aftermath of the Tsunami in Thailand until we both fell asleep and how the nurses never asked him to leave. In the middle of the night, I’d have to pee and he’d jump up and we’d fall into habit, helping me put on my socks with the sticky grips on the bottom and unplugging and untangling the cords from the wall from my machine as he slowly pulled me up from the bed.

I remember this one time I needed to feel the January sun on my face so he and I snuck out a back door of the hospital and into a concrete garden and stood there, hand wrapped tightly around the machine pumping different liquids into me as I closed my eyes and felt the sun for the first time in days.

And how after work my older brother would come to sit beside my bed and read the writings of C.S. Lewis to me as I drifting in and out of sleep. I don’t remember a single word but I do remember thinking how his love for God would be enough for both of us.

Then this one time I was sitting on the edge of my hospital bed crying about something I can’t remember what. My mom stood in front of me trying to help me get up. She was growing impatient and I was feeling sorry for myself. I don’t remember why but suddenly we looked at each other and both started laughing and it hurt my stomach so bad but I didn’t care because it felt so good to feel joy for that brief moment. That’s my mom and I for you with our secret language and understanding and perfect timing.

And then there was the day I went from bad to good. From sick to healing. From walking a thin line to turning the corner. I remember it as if it were yesterday. It was day seven. I woke up and felt better. I felt the life come back to my cheeks and I ate real food for the first time in a week and saw hope for the first time too. My surgeon came into my room and said he could take out the drain in my butt cheek that had become almost unbearable at that point because of where it was and he said, “okay, count to three.” I was so scared it was going to hurt but by three he had already taken it out and I felt nothing but a relief I had been desperate to feel for a week.

I went home two days later but that is a story for another time because those are the stories from only two of the nine scars on my stomach.

Most days I just see the scars that scatter my belly but sometimes, these are the memories that come rushing back when I look at my stomach as I think about how scars are these crazy visual reminders of stories from our lives and nobody ever knows until you open your mouth to tell them.

A Path to Healing

The path to self-growth is not linear. It is a meandering journey through mountains and valleys, and occasionally there are more lows than highs. But it is a journey ever onward, and it is our light—that same light that exists in every one of us—that guides the way, if only we allow it to shine. -Rachel Grayczyk

It feels like often it takes something big happening in my life to point out the areas that need to be addressed. The areas within me that I’ve been running from or that seem too painful to really stop and take a good look at and heal.

A breakup or divorce, losing a job, losing a friend, getting sick. I’ve experienced all of these things and what I know now is that they are all messengers. They come with profound knowledge and insight. But they also come with a lot of heavy emotion that I often like to dust under the rug. Pain, sadness, heartbreak, anger, regret, resentment, fear, abandonment, betrayal — these emotions aren’t pleasant. At times they can feel like the most painful thing in the world. Who hasn’t experienced a heartbreak we thought we’d never recover from?

But what I also know now is that THOSE are the golden nuggets. Those are the moments and experiences that gain the wisdom. Those emotions are the messages waiting to be peeled back and dove into deeper. Those nuggets are actually the path to true peace and happiness.

We are all incredibly intuitive beings and already have the answers to the questions we seek within. Who said that originally? Rumi? Buddha? Whoever it was, I fully believe it to be the truth.

Recently I developed a massive rash all over my face. To some, it’s just a rash. To me, it means something more.

It looks a lot like acne but it’s not. I know it’s not. It is hot, very inflamed and itches. And that it seemed to get inflamed when I eat certain things like coconut. And I know enough, I’m intuitive enough, to know that it means something.

This rash, to me, is a message. I know, that sounds a little woowoo for some but I really believe that our bodies are incredibly smart and so many of our ailments are messages from something deeper within. Wake up calls trying desperately to get us to address the deeper issues that are in a way, holding us back.

I know on a deeper level there are several reasons for my rash. One, I’m consuming something my body doesn’t like and I need to pay closer attention to what I eat and drink and how i feel after. Do I experience a reaction right away or is it delayed? I’ll get into this more in another blog post.

Two, there is a huge emotional component. I’ve been hiding from some things in my life that need to be addressed and my body seems to like to get me to wake up through body ailments.

The traumas of my past are finally speaking up and asking to be dealt with. All that hurt, resentment, anger, it’s been bubbling up quickly the last few months and I feel my body is asking me to look at it for real this time.

I was also dating someone for the last six months whom I adore and love. However, I knew he and I were in different places and wanted different things but fought against that inner knowing and tried to fit this square peg in a round hole.

These things combined created a toxic environment inside of me, always questioning, always frustrated, always sad or questioning, “what’s wrong with me?” This triggered the only way I would listen — a horrible skin rash on my face.

And this is why I love the body. Because it never lies to us. It’s always seeking to show us the truth, get us to listen, get us to show up for ourselves, through messages.

I believe we can heal ourselves in a multitude of ways if we just stop, get really still and listen for the answers. Listen to those little pings, those nuggets of truth, those whispers that say, “he’s not good for you, or don’t eat that, don’t take the job, don’t say yes to the thing even though it “looks” good on paper — just wait.”

I would like to point out that that’s not to say I don’t believe in taking action. We have to take action. But maybe we need to pause a bit more, give ourselves space and time before we react? At least I know I sure do.

I also believe in western medicine. I do. 100%. I thank it daily because if not for it I would be dead. I know this. But I believe too many of us use it as a bandaid. A quick fix. At times, myself included. But sometimes if not most of the time a headache simple means you are dehydrated and need more water. Sometimes it is signaling you need rest or to actually look at something you’ve been avoiding. Taking a pill is a quick and easy fix but often we are reacting with the quick fix instead of addressing the issue. What would happen if we pause and just ask ourselves what we need instead?

If we just took the time to explore more of what our body, our heart and our soul are trying to tell us, what would happen in our lives?

This is what I’ve been thinking a lot about since the last time I wrote. Writing has always been incredibly therapeutic for me. It’s been a catalyst for discovery, exploration and ultimately, what paves the path to my own growth and ultimately, my healing.

Lately I’ve been called to share where I’m at in a different way. Cancer took a toll on me physically, mentally and definitely emotionally.

The last two years have been extremely challenging in a multitude of ways for me but the amazing thing is, I’m finally at a point in my growth where I can look at challenge in my life and see the parts that are getting me to stretch beyond my comfort zone and grow.

The dance for me is and always has been to learn to balance my emotions, to not be so reactionary, to let go of all the stories I took on for years, and honestly, find my voice and figure out who the heck I am and fully embody that. Even if it means others in my life may disapprove.

Developing my tumor two years ago has been the greatest teacher so far. I think I’ll have to tell that story sometime because it was one of the most frustrating and terrifying experiences of my life. Yet, looking back it’s taught me so much. Getting a rare and confusing cancer diagnoses, the whole process of learning about that, surgery, treatment, and recovery from that has felt like one big uphill climb and I just couldn’t catch my breath. My normal disposition is to keep pushing on. To do all the things in the same way I always have. What I’m learning now is I just can’t. I’m not that person anymore. Or, maybe I never was.

I actually need a lot of downtime. I need a lot of rest and relaxation. I need quiet. I need to not over schedule myself or have very many plans throughout the week. I function better on more spontaneity and I definitely need to allow myself the space to make a decision instead of saying yes to everything out of fear of missing out like I normally do.

So, I’ve spent the last few weeks sitting with that and trying my best to get really honest with myself. I’ve been asking myself some really tough questions.

But it’s always when I feel like I’ve hit a bottom that God (ie: Universe, Source, Life) steps in to remind me of the very thing I’m not addressing and if I did, it would change everything. Rashes, breakups, anger and resentments rising to the surface, massive hormonal chaos. All huge messages right now for me.

I find myself in a place I’ve never been before. I’m excited. Almost giddy about what is to come. It feels like the calm before a storm but not a destructive storm like in the past. A tranSTORMation is what I’m calling it. A big one. One that will allow me to peel back even more layers and show up as the real me even more.

So what is next?

Trauma, whether emotional, mental or physically (usually it’s all three combined), doesn’t look the same for everyone thus healing can’t look the same for everyone either. We all have the opportunity to embark on our own healing journey. And that is exactly what I am doing.

As I said to my therapist via text the other day, “It’s time. It’s time to go deeper.”

So that is what I’m doing. I’m investing in me in a way I never have. I’m taking this whole healing thing a few steps deeper. It’s not a one size fits all plan. It’s tailored just for me. I’m looking at all areas of my life and getting very honest and I plan on sharing what I’m doing for myself to heal along the way. I plan to really show up in this space consistently and offer you an experience that may open a few doors of curiosity for you as well.

But please remember, this is MY path and it may not feel right for you. It may trigger you or cause uncomfortable feelings to arise in you. May I invite you to explore that more deeply? It’s just an invitation for you to possibly look at your life differently too. You have to go on your own exploration. Your own journey. You have to try things on, listen to those little nudges and find the courage to step forward on your own path. .

So raise your glass of organic green celery juice (that’s all I’m drinking these days) and cheers with me. Because t’s time to really heal.

Dear Cancer, You Are Stealing From Me

**WARNING: I recently took a yoga class from my dear friend and her words penetrated deep. "Let the world see who you really are, where you are really at. It's not always pretty and perfect." So here is to a messy, raw and wildly authentic post. If you have an aversion to cuss words, well, maybe skip this one.  

"Everybody's got that chapter, of dark and darker days. Saturn seems to be returning and his essence can't be tamed. Some may like to fight it, try to plan a secret attack. But the more you push it the more it's pushing you back. So, you can't rush your healing. Darkness has its teachings. Love is never leaving. You can't rush your healing"

- Trevor Hall

I learned the hard way to not put out into the Universe the very thing you fear most because it will likely be presented to you at some point in time. The Universe will most definitely say, "Oh yeah, well I think you CAN handle it," and then throw whatever it is in your lap like a ton of bricks leaving you gasping for air. Sometimes life just isn't fair like that.

Shitty things happen to really great people. Beautiful and kind and amazing individuals are taken away from us way too soon. Disease happens and people lose things they never realized were valuable to them. Little kids get sick and die and horrible criminals live well into their nineties, unscathed.  

There is an imbalance in life and I don't think we'll ever really understand why. 

People often say, and I've been guilty of this myself, that everything happens for a reason. All of these things happen to shape and mold you, to help you grow into the person you are suppose to be. I've said that a bunch too. I laugh now and can't help but wonder if most of it is a crock of shit. That maybe life, sometimes, is just really unfair. 

Tragedies rip through lives stealing precious people and moments right before your eyes and you spin in circles trying to make sense of it and suddenly, "don't worry, this is all happening for a reason," sounds like a big pile of steaming bullshit. You wait and wait and wait to see things clearly, to understand why but nothing comes. No sense is made and you wonder, well then what was the fucking point? 

That is where I was last week when I learned that radiation was more then likely going to put me into early menopause and at the very least, leave me, infertile. Ouch. 

I want so badly to remain in a state of optimism, to lead with grace and kindness, to continue to believe that everything is happening for a reason and that life presents things to me so that I can evolve into the best version of myself. Except, I really don't feel like this experience is doing that at the moment. At least not right now and maybe that is the point. Maybe over time, this whole mess of an experience will make better sense and I'll be better because of it. 

Last week I fell deep within a cloud of bitter haze though as I sat alone with this news. I found myself throwing on fake smiles and diluted pleasantries to make everyone else feel at ease around me but the reality was, I was spinning from the feeling that cancer is stealing something mighty precious from me and I can't do anything about it. And I keep wondering, what is the bloody point? 

The funny thing is, I knew the highs and lows would come like a chaotic whirlwind. I've been through this before after all and I learned a huge lesson that time around. I knew that once the dust settled and life moved on and time went by, I'd feel all the feelings that come with this wild rollercoaster. I knew that I'd, at times, feel lost and forgotten. I knew I'd feel angry and scared. I knew I'd feel confused and baffled and even happy and peaceful by what I'd been given and I definitely knew unexpected things would happen that would change the course of my life forever. 

I knew my faith and sense of optimism would be tested like it never had before. 

What I didn't realize however, was that my life wouldn't even look like my own anymore. That everything would change and I'd feel like I was standing in the middle of Time Square staring at everything moving a million miles an hour all around me and I'm just watching and waiting for everything to make sense to me once again. Yet, none of it does.

And so I sunk. Deep and dark I went. In all honesty, if it wasn't for a few things that happened that helped distract me from my current reality, I wonder if I would have continued sinking? I felt somewhat balanced. 

Then the news came last week. News that made me feel out of control and helpless and I found myself facedown kicking and screaming on the floor and I realized how distracted I had been. I wondered how much of this reaction was from this news and how much of it was the aftermath of time and not truly processing the magnitude of what I was going through.

This news however, opened up that dark pit once again and I sank. 

But as everyone knows, time changes things. Even in the span of a week. This week has felt lighter and I see how much I have actually grown over the years. I have tools and resources now and the greatest advantage possible; perspective. 

I've been thinking a lot about perspective and our attitudes towards traumatic things that happen to us. How we think we lose our power by situations and circumstances that are out of our control, then it hit me, it's our attitude and perspective that GIVES us the power. 

Last week, as I watched a lifelong dream slip through my fingertips, I also let my personal power melt away with it. Demons surfaced, ones that whispered lies to me, ones that created chaos in my mind, ones that I've worked tirelessly to quiet over the years. 

Then this week something radical resurfaced out of a choice; faith and hope. I realized that as unfair as it may feel, I do have a choice. I can allow cancer to harden me, to add a bitter layer, to feel helpless and anger towards life, OR, let it continue to soften me, to add depth, and an openness to relate to and be there for others in a way I never have been before. 

I know very well which attitude I want to cultivate. But it's not always easy and I know the demons will try again and again and I'll fight back with everything I've got because I'm committed. I've chosen which side I'm on and I really want to do my best every day. I'm committed to living my life with purpose and waking up daily and reminding myself that I GET to live life this way. That I've chosen faith and hope and love over the dark side. That, in the end, I DO have all the power and I DO believe that something mighty wonderful will come out of these dark moments. 

So maybe cancer can come in like a thief in the night and steal a precious experience from me, one that feels like a birthright really, but in the end I get to choose how I react to it. I get to process it, move through it and ultimately, live it the way I see fit. 

So in the end cancer, I win. 

Don't wait. The Time Is Now.

"I know the rain is cold my dear, but dance in it a little while you wait for the sun." - a.j. lawless

It's been two days since my surgery and I'm home, resting somewhat comfortably on my couch with my legs up on top of a pillow. Aches and pains fill my left side and pelvis from the procedures they performed. One was the inguinal dissection of the left lymph nodes and the other was a D & C (Dilation and curettage) which is a procedure to remove tissue from inside my uterus. Basically, my doctor scraped out the first layer of my uterus  with a rake-like medical devise. There's a mental image for you. 

I had no idea what to expect from this surgery and I did too much of the very thing you shouldn't do and research way too much and totally freaked myself out. I've only really ever known surgery to be excruciating. When I had part of my colon removed in 2005, complication arose and I got extremely sick and was in a tremendous amount of pain. I had a pic line and drains and an ileostomy bag and was very sick. Naturally, I figured this surgery would bring about similar pains. It's funny how our mind does that to us. 

Given the nature of that surgery and the complications that arose, its safe to say that I developed a good amount of PTSD. However, this surgery hasn't been nearly as rough but I imagine, and I'm prepared for, its own set of hardships.

I did have to leave the hospital with a drain connected to the area where they removed lymph nodes which I'll have for a minimum of two weeks. I have to empty it twice a day which was similar to my ileostomy bag. I also left with some mighty good pain meds but I hate being on them. They make me nauseous and I feel like I'm floating out of my body. They also make me feel like I"m having a panic attack and I can't think. So I'm trying very hard to not take them. But I think I may cave today as I overdid it this morning and now am dealing with more pain then I had since the surgery. 

My mom went to run errands and my roommate left to go volunteer with some of her students so I have the house to myself for a bit. It's an eery feeling. I haven't really been alone since finding out the results of my PET scan which were worse then I had hoped. Apparently, the cancer was in multiple lymph nodes along my left side and had spread to a pelvis/sacrum node as well and I can't help but wonder if that is why my lower back has been hurting so bad the last few months. I can't help but think back to a lot of my so called symptoms and wonder if that was the cancer the whole time. 

They still don't know exactly where the cancer started. They don't know how to diagnose me and my oncologist even said that this case is very rare. It's not normal. Here is the thing about me though; I'm all for not being normal and being unique but in this case, I'd actually prefer to be a little more mainstream. I'd actually prefer my cancer be a little more black and white. I'd prefer to know exactly what to expect but I don't and that is a hard place for me to be. 

My world feels a little foggy right now and this surgery is only the beginning. I have a long road ahead of me and I have no idea what is in store. All I can do at this point is hope like hell that what they find isn't as serious as I feel like it may be. 

 I'm grateful though. I'm grateful for all the love a support I've received. From my family, my friends, strangers. Thank you. 

Thank you to all those that have shared with me that I am on their prayer lists and their aunt's church prayer lists and so forth. I know I have an army behind me. I know I have some mighty good connections to the big G.O.D so I feel safe and in good hands. But I'm still scared.

I don't want to have cancer. It's a very strange feeling to know that there is something inside of me and it's very job is to seek and destroy every last part of me until I take my last breath. It wont come to that mind you. I'm stronger then this beast. This beast doesn't quite know what it's dealing with and I'm trying very hard to not show it my fear. 

But I'm scared. 

Words like more surgery, radiation and chemotherapy have already been dropped and that scares me. That scares the crap out of me. I don't want to lose my hair. I don't want to pump my body full of poison or fry my reproductive organs under a machine. 

I keep repeating conversations that my old roommate and I had about what we'd do if cancer came back into our lives. We are both rather holistic and I always thought I'd fight this with natural medicine but here I am, now faced with that choice and I'm scared of the decision I have to make. I don't know what to do. All I know, without a doubt, is that I want to live and I want to live in a mighty big way. I know that I have a lot left to do and I also know that this experience is part of that plan. But I still don't really know what to do regarding this cancer that I am facing right now. So I'm thankful for this time of the unknown. This time of not having to decide anything. 

Why does it take something bad happening to remind us of how bad we want to live? Why does it take something like this happening to remind us of how lucky we are or how much we still want to do with our lives?

I hope I remember when this is all said and done, to live like I've never lived before. To take even more risks and be even braver in my choices. To say yes more to the things that light me up and no to those things that are petty and bullshit. 

I hope I forgive more easily and love even bigger. 

I hope I tell those I love them every single time I talk to them. 

I hope I close more doors that no longer deserve my time and attention so that other doors, doors that are waiting to be open can do so. 

But then again, why am I waiting for all this to be over to do so. Screw that. The time is now. Live like this now. Don't wait. Don't you dare wait for the right time because that time IS right now. Take it from me, when you find out something like this, you have a moment when everything flashes before your eyes and you wonder why you aren't living the way you believe you should be.

So from here on out...while I fight this fight, I'm also going to live this one precious life of mine exactly as I want to. 

Wild, free and full of purpose and adventure. 

I hope you do too. Live your life they way you've always wanted to.