365 Days Ago, Cancer Gave Me A New Lease On Life And I Promise Not To Waste It

August 19th, 2019

August 20th, 2018 is a date that will forever be tattooed in my brain. To everyone else, it may have just been a random Monday in August.

To me, I remember that day like it was yesterday.

I can remember getting woken up in the hospital at 6 a.m. so that I could be wheeled down to the waiting room to get prepped for surgery.

I can remember my family hanging out with me before I went into the operating room hoping it was going to be an “outpatient” procedure. 

I can remember waking up from surgery and being offered saltines and ginger ale. I can remember thinking that ginger ale and saltines were the best things I ever tasted. 

I can remember the nurse telling me that my family wanted to see me and saying, “they’re nice people but they’re a lot so they can wait.” Whoops.

I can remember my oncologist coming into my room and telling me that the mass was malignant and then deciding that the best way to deal with this news was to go right back to sleep.

I can remember Morgayne asking if the cancer was genetic. Thank goodness, no.

I can remember not having to get up to pee which I thought was amazing since they were pumping so many fluids into me until I was told that I had a catheter in me.

I can remember my family leaving me for the night and turning on “Bachelor In Paradise.”

I can remember everything about that day. Except, well, not everything, EVERYTHING because I was drugged up during my surgery and if I could remember that we’d have a serious problem.

What I can’t remember is feeling scared. What I can’t remember is feeling like my life was over. What I can’t remember is feeling alone. What I can’t remember was feeling bad for myself. What I can’t remember is crying myself to sleep that night. What I can’t remember is thinking that I was going to die. Those things never crossed my mind throughout my whole cancer experience, especially that first night.

Maybe that makes my story not relatable to others that have been in my position. Maybe that’s why when people tell me they are sick, I don’t think they are given a death sentence. Maybe that’s why when people are looking for sympathy or a shoulder to cry on, I am NOT that person.

Technically, TECHNICALLY, I was the one who had cancer. I was the one who endured a painful two days when my mass ruptured. I was the one who had the surgery to get the mass removed and I have the scar to prove it. I was the one who had to spend 4 never-ending days in the hospital smelling terribly with a murderous roommate. I was the one who needed assistance in the shower because I couldn’t even stand up on my own. I was the one who had cankles and could barely walk upstairs. I was the one that got daily blood work, ultrasounds, and repeated stabbing in my arms so that I could freeze my eggs. I was the one who got a UTI from my egg retrieval. I was the one who had to get a port put into her chest for chemo and I have the scar to prove that one as well. I was the one who received chemo for three cycles. I was the one who had nausea from the chemo. I was DEFINITELY the one who lost their hair.

But I was also the one who kicked cancer’s butt. I am also the one who knows that I couldn’t have done this without my support system. I am also the one who recognizes I did not survive this for no reason. I am also the one who has a whole new perspective on life. And I am also the one who understands how lucky I am. 

I know I was lucky to get the cancer card I was dealt. Getting diagnosed at stage 1 was the biggest blessing I could’ve asked for during this whole experience. There are people who’ve been dealt a shittier deck and have had a much tougher battle with life and that is PRECISELY the reason why I refuse to feel sorry for myself.

Now, I don’t know how I feel about fate or a predetermined life path and all of that bologna, but I have to believe that there was a purpose for this chapter in my life. 

I may not find my purpose tomorrow, or the next day, or the next year, but at least now I’ve got more time. Time that I’m not going to waste.

This year on August 20th I didn’t wake up to hospital machines. Instead, I woke up, went to a workout class, and watched the sunrise on the boardwalk. This year on August 20th, I didn’t have to have surgery. Instead, I booked myself a full-body 60-minute massage. This year on August 20th, I didn’t get diagnosed with cancer. Instead, I got to celebrate myself by spending the whole day at the beach reading a good book. 

So if you’re reading this on August 20th, 2019 and the date held no significance to you, that’s ok. To me, 8/20/18 will always be the day I was diagnosed with cancer but more importantly, it will forever be the day that shaped me into the person I am today. And I like her, so she’s going to stick around for a bit.

September 26th, 2019 “Knowing Your Body, Even In Your 20s, Could Be The Difference Between Stage 1 Or Stage 4 Cancer” 

Yes, yes it’s me again. I know you guys thought that once I was in remission I would stop writing lengthy blog posts but alas, here we are. In light of September’s Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month, I just have a few words to say. I’m urging everyone to start getting to know their body better because it should be your best friend. 

Before getting cancer I KNEW I was a relatively healthy person. I mean, of course, there were nights when I would eat a pint of ice cream, have fries for lunch, or drink a whole bottle of wine. I’m no saint but I also knew how to take care of myself. Whether that was from the food I ate or the exercise I took part in, I was, in my own definition, healthy. Now I’m sure if you asked a celebrity trainer they would think otherwise, but, that is exactly why I don’t have a celebrity trainer. 

Last July, I started feeling bloated and not “oh I just ate 5 slices of pizza bloated” it was “oh am I pregnant? Bloated.”  I chalked it up to something I ate because I have had stomach problems in the past so I assumed something just wasn’t sitting right. I watched and tracked what I ate to see if maybe dairy was throwing off my system or if I was allergic to gluten. By the end of July, it truly looked like I was three months pregnant. It wasn’t just something that was in my head either. You know when you have those moments when you think you’ve gained weight because those jeans don’t fit you like that used to and then your friends tell you you’re crazy and look great? Yeah, this wasn’t one of those moments. It was a “holy shit” moment. 

My friend’s mom is a nurse and I remember going over to their house one night just to hang out and ended up showing her my growing stomach and needless to say she was concerned. With her encouragement and my parents, I made an appointment with a gastroenterologist and the rest, as they say, is history.

What I’m trying to say is KNOW your body! If you feel something is off or if there is something you are concerned about, get it checked out! 

Feel constantly run down and can’t pick your head off the pillow? Get it checked out.

Feel a lump on your breast? Get it checked out.

Feel swelling on your lymph nodes? Get it checked out. 

Feel like you have something growing inside you? Get it checked out.

I’m not saying start being a hypochondriac and go to the hospital when you have a paper cut but there is no one else who knows your body as well as you do. If you feel something odd, if you notice something different, if something just doesn’t feel right, then you owe it yourself to do something about it. 

What’s the harm in going to the doctor to find out some answers? The doctor could tell you nothing is wrong and if that’s the case at least you’ll have peace of mind. If time passes and you’re still not feeling great, go find yourself another doctor because trust me, there are plenty. 

You have to be your own advocate. This goes for both mental and physical health. No one is going to help you if you don’t start helping yourself. If you continue to wait a serious situation could get worse and worse. I’m thankful that I went in when I did and it only ended up being Stage 1.

People, it’s not rocket science, it’s your health and it’s one of the most important things in your life (only slightly before pizza and Chad Michael Murray). 

Get the answers that you deserve and be an advocate for yourself because it could end up saving your life. Just saying.