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From the start I knew there would come a day when I would think to myself, “Do I really want to share this much? Do I really want to put out such personal details?” Whether it would be a blog about how scared I am on a particular day or one with details about what is going on, I knew that day would come, and here it is. What keeps me feeling safe and grounded through it all, is knowing that my Guidance would not have pushed so hard for me to do this if I was going to keep it “pretty and cute" hiding the reality of the journey. What would be the point? So, here we go-very personal share number one.
On December 21st, I met my new gynecologist. The office where I had the biopsy done was just not the right fit, so I had all of my records transferred to a woman who was highly recommended by a long time friend; a patient of over 20 years. In that first meeting and exam she told me, “I’m very happy to say I believe it’s very early. Your uterus feels small. (I assumed that meant no tumors) I’m going to set you up with an oncologist who will probably send you for a CAT scan.” She started to go on but I stopped her there and said, “I don’t want one. They are now known to cause cancer. (Thank God for MSN news THAT I never watch but "happened" to flip channels just in time days after I got the “LIVEagnosis.”) Why would I do it now?” as I pointed to my BeaUterus. She right away said, “Okay, would you do an MRI? That measures your magnetic field (something like that) so it gives you nothing it takes/reads.” At that moment I said okay, knowing I was going to Google MRI’s soon as I got home.
When I left, the plan was that she would make some phone calls as she had a few people in mind and that she would get back to me. When she called two days later, Joe and I were relaxed watching a movie and seeing her come up on caller ID I let the machine get it. I just wasn’t ready to tell her I was not going to do any of those tests. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind in that moment to tell her my plan. We have the kind of answering machine that you can hear as someone speaks. She said she had the name of an oncologist and that since it was late and she would be out of the office for the holidays, and that I should call back Monday. Keep in mind this was the day before Christmas Eve which was Wednesday. I point that out only because this is the third office (my regular doctor, my first gyno office and now hers) that one minute tries to get it through my head that there is no time to waste, and the next is hard to reach.
Well, Monday came around and I wasn’t up for the call. Today I was and left the message. When I noticed it was after five o’clock, I told Joe, “Well, guess I won’t be getting a call today” which I am used to now as it’s been eerily normal the past three weeks. I was wrong though. The phone rang forty-five minutes later.
From the beginning of the conversation she was already frustrated and said, “I think I am just going to send you right to the cancer specialist, but I don’t even know what they can do for you if you don’t want more testing.” I won’t share the whole conversation only because it would make this blog longer than long, but the “best” part was when she said in a very frustrated, almost pissed voice, “Why are you so dead set on not getting your uterus cut out?” I sat there a bit stunned feeling like my body was nothing but a sack of parts to her; to the medical field. Instead of saying what first came to mind, “Uh, because it’s a part of my body” knowing she was then going to tell me I don’t need it etc., I told her, “I won’t even say because it’s part of my body. I am dead set against it because it’s not the cure.” “Yes it is!” she said so quickly and like I was stupid beyond belief.
I went
