When I first started this blog, I said something about feeling like this wasn't even happening to me. I began this journey detached, not to mention completely unaware of what I was in for. Well, at this point, there is no denying that this is 100% happening to me. For the last two nights, I haven't even been able to separate from it all enough to just... sleep. Every bit of "that area" feels like it is either on fire or just, like, disintegrating. Literally. My skin seems to just be falling off. The blisters I've written about look almost gray in color. At yesterday's appointment, the nurse examined me and decided that what it may be, rather than blisters, is a yeast infection. Not in the traditional location, but just there in the folds of my skin. Gross. So, now I've added Monistat to the list of seemingly useless goops that I am smearing around my groin, none of which have helped in the slightest. I also finally relented, yesterday, to accep
When my looked down at my ringing phone this afternoon and saw "Moll Pavillion / Fairview Hospital" on the called ID, I just assumed it was one of those recorded messages reminding me about my appointment tomorrow. (Never mind that I got that message yesterday. I was buys and not thinking about that stuff...) So when the voice on the other end was the Nurse Practitioner who was with me from day one of this ordeal, my heart immediately leaped into my throat. She was the one who told me that the results of my biopsy were that I had cancer. So it was only appropriate that she was the one to call me first today... She said that when she saw my results from yesterday's can pop up on her system, she could not wait until tomorrow to call and tell me the good news. What they saw was exactly what they wanted to see: no progression of disease, and no residual evidence of the tumor. I was so in shock. So stunned. I spent all this time mentally preparing for this news to
So, let me tell you WHY I received this photo from knitting dad today: That's my mum. That's two glasses of champagne. And I received this at around noon their time. So why were my parents, who barely drink at all, swigging champagne for lunch today? Because of the news I got at today's follow-up appointment with my brachytherapy oncologist, Dr. Fleming. As I laid on the exam table, feet in the stirrups, he looked in there and announced "What a beautiful cervix." The nurse nodded in agreement. It was such an odd exchange, it took me a minute to register what they were saying... See, when Ryan booked this appointment for me last month (on the day of my final brachy) he asked them if they would be able to tell by today if the tumor was gone. And the answer was NO - that what they would see would be a necrotic, dying, sloughing away tumor. So really, we went in there today with no real expectations. So, when I finally wrapped my head around
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