Something I realized today

I had my oophorectomy one month and three days ago. And in that time, I haven't had a period. I just realized that today. LOL I got my first period at 13 years old (so 30 years ago). I can't say that I'm upset about not having to deal with that nonsense every month. One of the (few) perks of this journey. :)

They said to go home

(Disclaimer: I found this on a bladder cancer Facebook group I am part of. I loved it, relate to it, and want to share it here. I feel like this relates to the BRCA+ journey as well.)

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They said to go home.

They said, "the scans look fine, your body will recover, you don’t need to be here anymore. The cancer might come back, but until then there’s nothing we can do.”

They said to go home.

They said, “go on and live your life. Take a breath, take a nap, maybe even take a vacation. Go back to your jobs, back to your hobbies, back to laundry, dishes, and paying the bills. Spend time with your family, meet a friend for lunch, catch a movie with your loved ones."

It sounded nice when they said to go home.

So we went home.
.

But the home we went back to wasn’t as familiar as we thought.

The paint was the right color and the furniture was in place, but it wasn't the same. Our thoughts, feelings, and interests had changed. Our relationships, jobs, and bodies felt so much different.

They said to go home, so we tried to go home, but it didn’t feel like home.

We felt lost. It was as if we had been on a path, kidnapped somewhere in the middle, turned around 20 times, and set off in a new direction. We didn’t know which way was up or down, left or right. We felt stranded in the desert- abandoned, desolate, and lonely.

They said to go home.

But home was out of reach. The home we knew didn’t exist anymore. We wandered around before trying to build a new home. But the new home crumbled and cracked, forcing us to repair, rebuild, or start completely over.

They said to go home.

But they didn’t understand. After seeing thousands of patients in this position, they still didn’t understand. It looked so simple from their perspective. Go home, go back to your life, pretend that cancer never came.

But we couldn’t go home.

Our souls were altered on the deepest level. Our hearts were shattered, our minds were chaos, and our bodies hurt. They couldn’t see it.
.

Then we saw others. “Do you know where you are going?” we asked.

“No, I feel rather lost,” they would say. “But you are welcome to join, and we can pave a new path together.”

In that moment, though we were all still lost, we felt a glimpse of home. Our hearts connected and friendships formed on the simplest notion of being aimless wanderers together.

“Your thoughts and feelings make sense given all that you’ve been through. Others may not understand, but I can see, because I’ve walked a similar path.”

“You belong here.”

Our hearts began to relax. We took a deep breath of fresh air.

They said to come home.

One down, one to go

I had my oophorectomy on the 17th. It went well. Pathology on my ovaries and tubes came back clean.

Recovery hasn't been bad. I took a week off from my part-time job because it has me on my feet 6-9 hours per day. I worked from home for a week for my day job. The pain was mainly on my right side, which is apparently where most of the work is done. I did have a bit of the should pain the day after due to the gas used to inflate my abdomen during surgery. It went away quickly, though. I couldn't sleep on my side until two days ago. I'm a side-sleeper, so I'm so glad I'm able to do that again. I only took Motrin after my surgery, though I was given a prescription for Norco too.

I haven't really had menopausal symptoms yet. I did have what I think were two hot flashes on Sunday of this week. They made me feel weird but weren't bad and didn't last long. I'm hoping the symptoms stay minor or don't appear at all. I'm not on HRT of any kind. Dr. P. said we'll talk about it at my follow-up at the end of the month.

So now the countdown is on to "the big one." My prophylactic bilateral mastectomy (PBM) with DIEP flap reconstruction is on February 2. I am getting anxious about it. I will be grateful to get it done, but I am definitely anxious. I'm still confident that it's the right decision for me and for my family. But I'm not looking forward to the surgery itself, the hospitalization, the recovery, and how it's all going to affect my kids.

Between today and February 2, I have eight doctor appointments. Not all are related to the PBM. Some are related to my bladder cancer (first of many maintenance cystoscopies), a mammogram that is both the annual one I'm due for and serves as a pre-op one, pre-op visits with my breast surgeon and plastic surgeon, pre-op assessment, post-op with my onc gyn, CT of my abdomen and aorta, and a couple of other things. Lots to keep my mind occupied and lots to worry about.

I guess my biggest wish this upcoming Christmas season is peace in my mind and peace for my family. We need the relief and break.