Mind over health
I'm 34 I was diagnosed with beginning stages of endometrial cancer in my 20s . I did what I was supposed took my megace , and actually my last hyteroscopy / d&c in 2019 I was clear no evidence of cancer. Well 2020 I knew something was wrong the pain was constant , my periods were off, and I just knew to call my oncologist .
Dr says I don't want you to schedule an appointment just schedule a surgery so we can take some biopsies. Let me say this again I knew
Doc gives me a call and tells me I had a reoccurance its back it spread and is worse then it ever was . I listened to my options: keep taking the meds so we can have a baby and jeopardize my chances of it getting worse or have a hysterectomy. Husband said what options there isn't any . Forget about trying to have a baby hysterectomy it is, your life is more important.
I honestly beat myself up and was so upset! Lied to my friends and family saying I'm perfectly fine with the decision, but in all actuality I wasn't ok and I'm still not ok . Knowing we've been pregnant previously, taking all the meds for 7 yrs , going under so many times, and it was all for nothing! For me just to be told that my life is on the line, and no babies. Everyone says you can adopt , I get it yes I can , however I will never be able to feel a baby kick , listen to a heart beat, or have an amazing bond with a child in my womb . What womb !!! I don't have one 😶. Its officially gone my options are over. I still feel empty and it's only been 3 weeks post my hysterectomy.
I don't feel complete anymore, and honestly I don't know if I ever will . I know I sound completely selfish right now. I honestly so needed to get this off of my chest . Sorry
Getting to Know You
5 years ago, I was diagnosed with endometrial cancer. I was scared, anxious, sure I would die from this aggressive disease and feeling isolated and alone with my emotions. After surgery and 6 months of chemo, my doctors declared there was no evidence of disease and it was time to go back to living my life. But the process of recovery was far from easy. And the more I talked to other cancer patients the more I realized I was not alone. Turns out, for most of us, cancer is a big ordeal.
Getting to Know You
5 years ago, I was diagnosed with endometrial cancer. I was scared, anxious, sure I would die from this aggressive disease and feeling isolated and alone with my emotions. After surgery and 6 months of chemo, my doctors declared there was no evidence of disease and it was time to go back to living my life. But the process of recovery was far from easy. And the more I talked to other cancer patients the more I realized I was not alone. Turns out, cancer is a big ordeal for lots of us.
#Cancer # Emotions #MentalHealth
I'm new to the community
Hi, all. I'm new. It told me to let everyone know I'm new and who I am, but I can't find the area to do so. So, I'm just posting then. I , um, hmm, not sure what to say. I have been "frail" by government standards since I was 14. It all started when I woke up one day and was covered from head to toe in a weird rash. It turned out to be psoriasis. I had treatment for weeks before it slowly began to go away and then it went away except for my scalp and knuckles which I still fight to this day. Then my musculoskeletal system began to fight against me. I would fall for no reason, drop things, etc... I had to go to Physical Therapy for a long time. Then I started taking medicine. 14 pills a day (now I take about 30 pills a day). In my 20's, my back began to fail me. They called it disk degenerative disorder. I had a herniated disk and my lower back was crumbling, I had spurs up my entire spine, and cervical stenosis. I also lost 3 babies, which was devastating. In my 30's, I lost two more. When I lost the last one, I was informed that I had endometrial cancer. I fought it, and it went away only to come back in six months so I fought it again and it went away only to be discovered that it was coming from cervical cancer so I had a total hysterectomy and lost my chance to ever have a child which put me into a downward spiral of depression. Then they discovered a small patch of skin cancer and removed that. Then I ended up with thyroid cancer and with some surgery and radiation, was able to get rid of that, This year will be my five year if I come out clean. Only they did a fibroscan of my liver (I'm stage 2 fibrosis NASH) and found severe liver damage and want to do a biopsy because they fear liver cancer. And on top of that, I've had some heart issues here and there (just little valve problems and angina) and they seem to suggest that a part of my heart is not getting oxygen so they want to do a cath, but I've been having uncontrolled seizures and they won't do it until I get a neurologist and he/she okays the cath. Anyway, I'm disabled. I travel by wheelchair = manual and electric - and I'm mostly in bed. When I graduated college, I was able to teach college (English Composition) for 8 years and those were some of the happiest days of my life. When I was doing my Bachelor's in college, it was in theatre and my truly happiest moments were being up on stage and acting. I don't know why I'm blabbing, I'm so sorry. I just never had somewhere where people might understand. I probably just signed my ignore warrant. Thanks for letting me in.
Worried I will die without accomplish anything
I am 57 and have had serious health problems all my life. I have always been very health conscious, and yet I've had breast cancer, had endometrial cancer, have severe endocrine problems, and several of my internal organs are starting to fail.
I was never able to have children, and was never able to get a carrier established. I have done a lot of scientific and nonfiction writing, but have not been able to get much of it published.
After a recent hospitalization for acute renal failure, I worry that I don't have much time left. I want to find some way to make my remaining time meaningful.
The idea of dying after a meaningless life full of suffering bothers me much more than the thought that I am running out of time -- I really don't want more time if it will just mean more suffering, no ability to do the things I want, and nothing accomplished.
I am looking for people in similar situations to talk to -- I really don't know anyone else in this situation. My cancer problems are now under control, and I haven't found support groups for people with my other problems. Please help me connect with others facing similar things!
#endoflife #lackofmeaning #findinghope #findingmeaning
I have had two cancers in four years. I might get more.
Four years ago, I was diagnosed with endometrial cancer. I was 36. I’m 40 now. I remember the shock I felt. My gynecologist had just told me a week before she didn’t think it was possible I had endometrial cancer, after all, “I was too young.”
About four weeks later, I was having a complete hysterectomy that later revealed that my cancer had spread into my cervix, my fallopian tubes, into one ovary, and into my lymphatic tissue. I did three sessions of chemotherapy, then 28 external pelvic radiations and then three more sessions of chemotherapy. I finished treatment March 2016. Now, almost four years post finishing my treatment, things are still great. My last checkup I was told everything looked healthy and good.
Me shortly after going bald for the first time. Do you see the relief in my face?
Shortly after treatment ended, I was talked into genetic testing by the physicians assistant for my oncologist. “Don’t you want to figure out why you got cancer?” she said. Reluctantly, I agreed. I thought for sure it would come back negative.
“Good news! You are not BRCA positive. But you do have Cowden’s Syndrome.”
Cowden’s Syndrome is also called PTEN Hamartoma Syndrome. It is a mutation of the PTEN gene. The PTEN gene is your tumor inhibitor gene. It causes multiple benign tumors (called hamartomas) all over your body, an enlarged head, goiters in the thyroid, skin tags, and puts you more at risk for certain cancer, like breast, endometrial, colon, rectal, thyroid, and melanoma.
It was like so many things regarding my medical history that I had wondered about for ages finally made sense. My big head could be explained. The goiter I’ve had for almost twenty years, lodged firmly in my thyroid, explained. The weird bumps and skin tags that never seemed to go away, despite my best efforts? Explained. I was no longer a mystery, things made sense.
They went through the list of cancer I was at the most risk for. Endometrial was at the top of the list. Next was breast. I was advised I had a 77 percent chance I would have breast cancer before I was 70. Then thyroid, colon, and skin. I asked what all this meant, and they said that I would have to be tested every year. Breasts would be tested twice a year. I would have to rotate every six months between a MRI and a mammogram. I would need to start annual colonoscopies. I would need to see a dermatologist for skin checks.
I began the annual testing. My life began feeling like I was just waiting for the moment where I would be told I would have to repeat the hardest nine months I’ve ever had to go through. It took me at least two years (two rounds of tests) before I finally accepted that this was just something I was going to have to deal with. This is my new normal. Living, working, breathing — but also doing everything I can to make sure that if cancer wants to pay another visit, it doesn’t stay for long.
Fast forward to May of 2019. I had been putting off my mammogram/MRI cycle. I had no symptoms to indicate that I had an issue, so instead of going and just getting it over with, I waited. Finally, upon the insistence of my Mother, I went. I thought for sure this would be like the others, that I could go, get my boobs squished, and leave.
Well, you know what they say about assumptions.
I was diagnosed with DCIS, or DCIS, early June of 2019. DCIS is an early, non invasive form of breast cancer. Typically DCIS, depending on the stage and grade, requires either a lumpectomy along with radiation or for those that wish it, a mastectomy for treatment. No chemotherapy.
Now, the thought of radiation again, even on a different body part, made me nauseous. The thought of having a lumpectomy and then potentially, needing to do this all over again with a recurrence made me feel even worse. If I was going to do this, then I was going to go for the most aggressive treatment option. I was going to do this and decrease my chance of recurrence down as low as possible.
I decided on a bilateral mastectomy, along with sentinel lymph node biopsy. My surgery was seven weeks ago today, on August 7th.
Now, I’m a fat woman. I had big boobs. I didn’t like them. They sagged. They were in the way. I thought losing them would be fine, because the most important part was that I do everything possible to make sure I did not have to repeat this process again later.
I remember the first time I looked at my chest after the surgery. I cried. I cried because my boobs had been replaced by a mess of bruising, swelling, staples and drains. It took me a good month before I could shower without crying because I couldn’t stand how I looked. Today, the swelling is mostly gone, the drains and staples took a hike weeks ago, and I am still adjusting to my new body shape. Reconstruction was not an option because my surgeon does not do reconstruction with mastectomies, so I went into this knowing I would be “flat” for awhile, if not permanently.
Me after getting my drains and staples removed.
I am back to work post surgery. My risk of recurrence for breast cancer has gone down to less than one percent, so body issues aside, I made the right choice for me regarding my treatment. I go to physical therapy once a week to work on getting my range of motion back to where it was pre-surgery, and it improves every day. I am trying to get back to a place where I feel reasonably okay with how I look. Some days are better than others, but I’ll get there. I beat two cancer in four years, and let me say this here so I can come back to this when I am feeling low — I beat two cancer in four years, so I can do anything.
My annual Cowden’s Syndrome tests have started, and unfortunately I’ll be going for a biopsy for my thyroid in about two weeks. Three of the nodules in my goiter that I have had for about twenty years now are growing per the ultrasound I had two weeks ago, and my endocrinologist and I both feel a more aggressive approach in monitoring them is needed. So yes, I’m still trying to shut the door on one cancer only to have the possibility of needing to open another door. I am nervous for the possibility, but am choosing to cross that bridge when I get to it.