Fingers crossed for superpowers
Wednesday was my dad’s birthday, and I neglected to call him (instead using the tried and true Facebook/text happy wishes) because I spent the day at Seattle Cancer Care Alliance, and I didn’t want him to have to spend his birthday talking to his daughter about her new super fun cancer.
Spoiler alert: it is not super fun.
Last week, when they told me I had cancer, it took quite a bit of getting used to (understatement of the century). I’m still not used to it, honestly, and I don’t know that it’s something you ever could or should get used to. But I at least got to a point where I wasn’t crying all the time, and was starting to feel a bit better about everything. This lasted until about 24 hours before my appointment with the specialist who would be giving me my treatment plan. The day before my appointment, I could feel the anxiety start to fill my body, which made me SUPER productive at work because I had somewhere to channel that anxiety, but once I was done working for the day, the anxiety just led to a near panic attack.
The appointment itself was not that bad. I got a CT scan, which I’d never had before, and was alternately delighted and horrified that the dye they inject you with makes you feel like you’re peeing your pants (which, thankfully, they warn you about). Other medical professionals spent time poking and prodding me in uncomfortable ways, then I had a long wait before I actually saw the doctor, and THEN the solution they gave me for treatment was...horrifying and miraculous and, thankfully, not altogether unexpected since I’d done some unfortunate Googling before the appointment (I do not recommend this Google search, just FYI).
You see, you probably already know that the usual course of action when a tumor is found is to cut it out, if possible. That’s the best way to get rid of the cancer. Unfortunately, my tumor is on my tongue, which means they’re going to have to remove a portion of my tongue in order to get the tumor out with good margins. Then, they take a small piece of the underside of my arm and use that to replace the part of my tongue that’s now missing. (THEN they take skin from my thigh and cover up the piece of my arm they stole...there’s a lot of borrowing going on.)
And, unfortunately, since some of the lymph nodes in my neck have been affected, those have to go, too. This surgery is scheduled for three weeks from now, which feels both too soon and not soon enough. I’ll spend a week in the hospital after the surgery, learning how to swallow and speak again. Isn’t that wild and disgusting and HORRIBLE? It’s the part I’m having the hardest time coming to terms with. I’ll have to learn to speak again. And the words might not ever come out as easily as they do now. And, you guys, I spend a lot of time just blabbing about nothing. It is my mouth’s primary function.
After surgery is, most likely, radiation. And potentially chemotherapy. I’m not really letting myself think about the horrors of either of those yet. I have to get through the surgery first.
As you can imagine, I did not take any of this information well. I don’t know anyone that would. It sounds terrifying. It sounds, honestly, like they want to chop me up and put me back together like Frankenstein’s monster, and then douse me with radiation. I just keep reminding myself that others have gone through this and they’re OK now. If others can do it, that means I can do it. It’s my best course of action for, well, not having cancer anymore. Still, the only good outcome I can see here (other than, you know...living) is that maybe, just maybe, I’ll get some superpowers out of this shit deal.