For the next year and a half, this little lump would surface and then disappear, sometimes the size of a lima bean, sometimes the size of a small egg. It always popped up at times when I was stressed or worried about things, so naturally I connected my own dots and thought it was some kind of stress-triggered muscle bind. As time passed though, the surfacing lump was larger. It then became a constantly visible lump. I remember one lump making an appearance two weeks before our wedding and I worried and worried about how my little ball of stress would forever make my neck look "lumpy" in our wedding pictures if it wouldn't go away. Sadly, I had a lot more to be worried about than lumpy wedding pictures.
In the winter of 2009, my little companion swelled up to the size of a goiter on the left side of my neck. Finally, I decided that it was time to visit the Student Health Center (a visit which I had been putting off, because it always seemed like I rarely got any help there other than, "Rest and drink your fluids".)The doctors were astounded, but took many precautions and ordered several tests. The final precaution was a CT scan. After it was completed the technician wouldn't tell me nary a result but suggested I call my doctor, which I immediately did. The doctor told me I should probably withdraw from all my classes that semester, that I’d be getting chemo therapy-but first I needed to get a biopsy. She wouldn't tell me that I had cancer, just that I would need chemo therapy. And you know what, as I think back on it, NONE of those doctors ever said that I had cancer. I was left to fit the puzzle pieces together with surprised and speechless Jeffrey (8 months after our happy marriage-didn't he get quite the bargain!). It wasn't until I bluntly asked the surgeon who took the biopsy that I finally heard "cancer" cross a health professional's lips.
I started treatment for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, Stage IIB, on January 27th, 2010. After 8 rounds of chemo therapy (1 treatment every 15 days), I underwent 4 straight weeks (20 sessions) of radiation treatments. Throughout it all, I stayed as healthy as a person who is getting poisoned could be-I was of course sick and weary every single day, and I was amazed at the simple things I could not do, but I was lucky not to lose too much weight or contract an outside illness. I even only lost half of my hair, while the rest decided to stay with me. Staying healthy definitely had its costs, however. I lived in a semi-hermitage state, with few visitors and rarely ventured out of the house. Even with my lack of human contact-I was showered with love and support throughout the entire 8 month process. I cannot express what every little (or big) card, package, dinner, dessert, message, call, prayer, positive thought, or gift meant to me-but I will forever remember the support which was offered me by so many uplifted hands.
I am still amazed at what I had to go through for those 8 months. At times I remember it like it was a bad dream, and at other times, smells or fatigue trigger those old feelings, making the experience very real. It's strange to believe that such a thing happened to me at such a young age and such a horribly inconvenient time of life. However, I absolutely believe that throughout it all I was truly blessed. I may not have been able to fit every single scattered puzzle piece together, but I was never afraid that I wouldn't be cared for, and I knew that eventually I would be alright. And now, I count this experience as one of my greatest blessings-for I came to know so much about myself and acquire a greater knowledge about the human experience and what is truly dear to me.
Some nasty pictures:
{support-please take this picture as a representation on behalf of everyone who supported me}
Blog posts about the Journey:
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| {the lump that launched the ships} |
{the biopsy}
{I cut off 20 inches, and have missed every inch everyday, but I was lucky only half of my hair fell out throughout the entire process}
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| {head scarves and wigs at the ready. thankfully they never had to be used} |
{what happens to cancer patients after 7 minutes of sunshine-bad news}
{the mask I wore to lock my head in place during Radiation treatments; I wanted to save it for Halloweens to come but Jeff wouldn't let me}
{the mask I wore to lock my head in place during Radiation treatments; I wanted to save it for Halloweens to come but Jeff wouldn't let me}
{radiation-FINISHED! the end of cancer treatment}
{celebrating the final day of radiation}
{my amazing cousin Rhett, who organized a 5k fundraiser for my treatment costs}
{family support at the 5k}
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| {my wonderful, faithful, loving and patient Jeffrey, at my side through it all} |
Blog posts about the Journey:
9/14/2011 Update: I finally had my port (port-a-catheter) removed! It was another big step in moving forward and a sign of my continued recovery. It didn't quite feel that way as I lay on the table with the surgeon trying to tug out the port, but for now I still marvel daily that it is gone.
8/8/2012 Update: Today was my second CT scan since finishing treatment. I hate CT scans, especially the part where I have to drink barium sulfate- aka "major gag reflex stimulator." But the news is good, two years and counting cancer free!
3 Years and Counting
