Prologue

I guess first I should explain the title. I have had cancer twice before and now I may have it again. On the seventeenth anniversary of the day I started chemotherapy for Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, I was having a mammogram for a lump I found in my breast.

I kind of feel like a giant cancer cell with legs and arms. But then I think that this cancer thing is happening to the shell in which my being resides. In other words, my being is not affected by what happens to my body (the shell). How I handle this is what determines who I am and who I choose to be.

I remember when I was told I had Lymphoma. My husband was in the Air Force and we were stationed in Alaska. We had to fly to Seattle to go to a larger hospital. I was in a blur, so I pretty much did whatever I was told to do. Have this biopsy, take this test, see this doctor, attend this class, and talk to these people. I did all that. Everything that was done to my body helped, but there was one thing that made me understand that my body isn’t who I am. I walked into a waiting room shortly after my arrival to Seattle and saw a woman with no hair who was wearing a Levi, floppy hat with a huge daisy holding up the front of the brim. She was smiling. I thought at first, What does she have to smile about? But then, I got it. Her body may be ravaged by the disease, but her spirit was alive and well. I decided then that I would also be that kind of patient. It was the best decision I ever made. (I also found a hat like hers and wore it a lot.)

Eight chemo treatments, two biopsies, one insertion of a Groshan catheter, countless blood tests and CT Scans, two blood transfusions, and self injections of a drug to keep my white blood count up and I became a survivor instead of a patient.

Two years ago, I was told I had Endometrial Cancer. Age and experience gave me enough wisdom to say “Just take out everything. I don’t need it anymore.” One CT Scan, one surgery, one small infection, and I was good to go.

And now this……

I am writing this in a day to day format, because I don’t want to forget what happened when and also because my readers (whoever you are) will understand how long it actually takes to get on the road to treatment and, hopefully, remission.

Peace,

Tracy