One possible outcome of my surgery, though remote, was that the endometriomas would actually turn out to be cancer. Everyone, from the ultrasound tech to the radiologist who officially read the scan to my Ob-Gyn to my new RE, assured me that it was very unlikely. But it was there.
I was very relieved upon waking up from surgery to find that all signs pointed to your garden-variety, non-malignant, problematic-but-not-immediately-life-threatening endometriosis. I was even happier when the pathology report came back a few days later to confirm definitively that the tissue removed was not cancerous. But as I've written before, my diagnosis of advanced endometriosis, blocked Fallopian tubes, and the advice I got to start IVF immediately was incredibly upsetting, and I want to explain why.
Last year, my mother was diagnosed with cancer. I will save you the suspense and say that she's just fine, she's been in remission for a while, and her doctors think she's likely to stay that way for a long time. But starting on the day of her biopsy, the entire family went through a journey that is best described simply as traumatic. I watched poison be injected directly into her chest and shaved her head during chemo. For six months, we all dove headfirst into the experience of cancer treatment and swam around in that darkness. There were lots of cliches, lots of tears, and lots of celebration when she was finally declared to be done with treatment.
When I first found out that something was wrong with me - when we were still at the stage of "we don't know what's in my belly, but it sure isn't good" - I slipped right back into the same pattern as when my mom was diagnosed. Learn as much as possible about the disease, the treatment options, the doctors who will be involved. Skip virtuously past the blogs and message boards, spend some time on PubMed and UpToDate for more "official" information, then wait until 3 AM to go right back to reading blogs and message boards. How were other people diagnosed? How were they treated? How did they cope? What was the outcome? How bad is this really going to be for me, for the people I love? What does the future look like now that this has happened?
I am very, very grateful that after my surgery I was diagnosed with infertility and not cancer. I feel so lucky that it's a condition that might change my life but doesn't threaten it. But I also recognize that I am treating my infertility journey differently than I might have if I hadn't been through the experience of serious illness in the family so recently. I'm much more anxious about everything relating to medical care than I used to be. I have less patience with doctors, nurses, and office staff. I hyperventilate when I see needles, IV bags, hospital gowns, those socks with little rubber treads on the bottom. And I am using the same coping mechanisms that I did when my mom was sick: get a calendar and write out every treatment date. Circle in red the day that everything will be done, regardless of the outcome. Exercise as often as possible to relieve stress. Apologize to my husband in advance for snapping at him. Focus on positive things that have nothing to do with illness or disease. Wait, wait, wait for it to be over.
And to those who are still struggling with cancer in any way or at any level - hang in there. You are not alone. Be strong.
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