I have all of my hair. That was the first thing I thought of when I walked into the oncologist office and looked around and noticed a few women with the hairstyle of a fighter. I also noticed I was the youngest woman in the waiting room. We took a seat in front of another woman, ah, maybe about 25+ years of wisdom on me. She didn’t have the look of fear like some of the others in the room did, including myself. Partly because I knew there would be an impending endometrial biopsy at the end of this visit. This woman was bubbly and she was there, perhaps for a follow up from her battle or maybe waiting for a round of chemo. She asked me how long we had been married. She also asked if we had kids. My guess is she was probably thinking that we were too young to be sitting in the chairs we were in. Or that I have in neon blinking lights “I have a barren uterus” tattooed on my forehead, at least that’s how I feel sometimes.
After my ultrasound, I was ushered into the room of impending doom. Back to the room with painted ceiling tiles. Gotta hand it to them, at least there is something to stare at while I am awkwardly placed in the stirrups. Now, the biopsy was just how I remembered it. Still hurts like hell. Not even sure why they spray your hoo-ha with the numbing agent because I can attest to the fact that it does not work. They may as well have sprayed Aquafina or Binaca all over my lady-bits and it would have had the same result … writhing PAIN. Perhaps they should check the expiration date on that bottle or something, just saying. So just to pepper in a little more drama, Dr. Oncologist doesn’t think he got a good sample. This means, depending on the results, I may need to have a D&C under general anesthesia. Point evil uterus, Candace zero… well played uterus, well played. More to come on this front in the upcoming weeks.
So that bubbly woman in the waiting room, I need to be like her. Life will throw you steamy piles of shit, it is inevitable. You will also want to compare yourself to the person next to you and think why? Why is it easier for them. Here is where things all focused into perspective for me, this waiting room was different. At no point do I want to compare or wish for their steamy pile, because frankly I am sure it is worse, and even if it is not no one wants to be there sitting that waiting room chair. So I thank God. Because I have my steamy pile, I have my hair and I am truly thankful for what he has handed to me.
Chris’s 2 Cents: I don’t have much to add on this other than to say that Candace rocked this appointment today. After seeing how much this procedure hurts her, I was not looking forward to watching her go through all of this again. On one of the previous biopsies, she had a vasovagal response which caused her to hyperventilate, sweat, and shake from how cold she felt. I don’t care how cute she is, it wasn’t something I wanted to see again. Today, I held her hand and reminded her to breath while they were collecting the biopsy sample and, although she at one point grabbed my hand with both of hers from the pain, she stuck it out for them to collect what they hoped would be sufficient. And to top that off, this stubborn woman even got off the bed and dressed before getting the green light from the nurse to do so. Note to self: never get on Candace’s bad side. Based on what I saw today, sleeping on the couch would be the least of my worries. I love you and am very proud of how brave you were today Candace!
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Beautiful.
I’m thinking of you both, and holding your hands from several states away. I was in more oncology waiting rooms with my mom over the years of her illness than I’d care to think about. The experience was always an odd one. Not sad, or depressing, or upsetting, per se, just odd. It was as if time stopped moving in those waiting rooms, and each sideways glance briefly caught or “good morning” uttered had more weight to them than the longest of relationships.
And, PS, sorry to hear the numbing didn’t work, but all I could think was “SHE got numbing stuff? Why didn’t I get this (apparently useless) numbing stuff! I call B.S.!” (My biopsy a few years ago was truly the only IF procedure I’ve been through that nearly made me break. I’d do an HSG every morning for 2 weeks straight if it meant avoiding a biopsy!
Beautiful, thank you for your perspective as a care provider during these oncology appointments. We also felt that the waiting room was an odd experience. Do you ask the person next to you how they are doing or do you just assume that, since they are at an oncologist, they could be doing better? There was a dramatic difference between two women in particular as one walked out with a triumphant look on her face while the other seemed to be barely able to move psychologically speaking. It is a hard world and we are in admiration of all of the people out there fighting that ugly “C” monster.
I too have experience sitting in those chairs wondering who is there for treatments versus who is there to hold their hand. It’s a sad place to be regardless. Kudos to you both.
Fox, the more worrisome part was the people that went in alone. You can’t help but wonder what they had for a support system and then, contemplate whether they had one at all. That evil, pity demon creeps up into your system and all the sudden, you are struggling to do anything but look at that person. The crazy thing is, maybe the person that came with them is just in the bathroom or something. Truly an alternate reality.
You are strong and you will make it through whatever you have to. There’s also your upcoming transfer to your surrogate to look forward to! I was diagnosed with breast cancer last spring (at 29 with no family history, just after starting meds for an FET). It really sucked, but we know how to take things one step at a time from fertility treatments, and thinking about options for how we will get our child helped me through some tough moments. I also know how it feels to look around at the bald heads and be told by everyone you meet that you’re too young to be there. Luckily, I only needed 3 surgeries and no chemo or radiation, and my oncologist is comfortable with us trying to get pregnant before starting hormone therapy to keep the cancer from coming back, so we’re hoping my body will behave for once and to do an FET in early Nov. I know my story is different from yours, but just wanted to let you know I’m thinkingof you and sending positive thoughts your way!
Joey and Maria, thank you for sharing your story with us. It is great, first of all, that they were able to remove all of the cancerous tissues without the need for any treatments. We are impressed with your determination and courage to move forward with IVF and would love to hear how you are progressing so please keep us updated. We hope the best for you!