Imagine - A Different Kind of Life

This last week has been a blur. A numbing experience. The wait unbearable. Had cancer spread? What procedure? Children? Recovery length? Pain? Risk? So many questions, so much uncertainty, loads of fear, tough decisions ahead...

(Or are they tough decisions?)

Yesterday I walked through the doors of Cedars-Sinai, a world-renowned hospital sharing space with the glitz and glamour of Beverly Hills. Medical forms, questionnaires, and a white plastic ID band snapped to my wrist rushed my reality to the forefront. 

I have cancer. 

The journey has begun. 

From the specialist we heard our options, we heard his opinion, we heard what to expect, we heard positivity, we heard "there are no signs of cancer anywhere else." And as the breathe that we had been holding for days slowly released, my mind automatically moved onto the next.

Do I choose to have a full hysterectomy? Do I choose, for my long-lasting health, to take away the possibility of carrying my own child? If, in fact, the cancer is contained in a small portion of my cervix, it alone can be removed. This leaves me with a 30% chance of pregnancy. It will be difficult. It will be risky. It may come with heartache and frustration. It's not a guarantee. 

I'm at a standstill. I need more time. It will take more research, more education, more soul searching and attention.

I know motherhood is in my future, I just don't know how it looks...how it comes to be. 

Value - Sharing

I share in times of sadness and pain, when fear so badly wants control and the unknown begins to paralyze. I share because I know from challenges past that I must acknowledge. I need to confront. I will deny. I must weep. I may break. I will build. I can rely. 


I can rely on each of you (the most incredibly loving people) to encourage me, push me, carry me, remind me, love me, hold me, believe in me, lift me. 


Yesterday's note prompted the most beautiful string of messages, voicemails, notes, and texts. With every heartfelt "I love you" my soul grows more strength. With every hand held out to comfort, I feel more at ease. With every word of encouragement, confidence builds. With every reminder of who I am, fear subsides. 


I know I'm not entering this phase alone. I feel each of you - your love, the prayers, your bright light, the strong faith, all hope and promise. Thank you for letting me share this next chapter with you. Thank you for being by my side. 


It will be difficult. It will be challenging. It will be painful. It will be a struggle. 


BUT 


It will make me stronger. It will create unbreakable bonds. It will intensify my love for life. It will encourage the art of living in the moment. It will expand my heart. 


It will become a thing of the past that once existed sometime long ago, leaving not a single emotional scar, never dimming my light, never stealing my smile. I will win. 


I WILL KICK CANCER'S ASS! 

Embrace - Cancer

Cancer.  

I want to deny. Forced through my lips, the ugliest word. It comes out as a whisper. Voice barely audible. I'm not ready to own, not ready to embrace. 

It's been 3 days. Shock still guarding me, protecting my heart, quieting my mind. 

The diagnoses - cervical cancer. 

It hit me with the weight of a ton of bricks - a voicemail with such concern and urgency that tears and trepidation immediately surfaced. After months of testing from an array of angles, my doctor had found the source. With Mom's hand in mine and the strong, unwavering presence of a very special man, we sat in the doctor's office and heard my reality change. 

Cervical cancer. Minimal chance of a full hysterectomy. Can still carry a baby. Check the lymph nodes. CT scan. Specialist. Blood work. The entirety of the disease is uncertain. Radiation. Cesarean. Chances are good. Survival rate is 99%. Not terminal. Healthy. Young. Surgery. 

The words came flying at me, piling on my shoulders, leaning against my chest, weighing down my heart. Tears and pain filling the room. 

We walked out in a daze, following instructions like robots, made the unavoidable phone calls, and then put it away. 

Exchanging the sorrow for celebration, I've spent the last 72 hours in a place of love and gratitude, enjoying life, indulging in delicious food, sipping strong cocktails, and laughing carelessly. My focus remains on the gifts in my life - the amazing people I call my friends, the incredible family I was born into, the memorable experiences I am treated to, and the love I am surrounded with.       

This is how I tackle challenge. This is how I will tackle cancer and all that may follow. 

Smile. Love. Faith. Strength.