- Joined
- Aug 18, 2013
- Messages
- 11,660
As many of you know, I was diagnosed with endometrial cancer in May. That was after a year of horrible health issues to do with heart and thyroid. Since the end of May, I've been on an endless round about of treatments and testing, culminating in removal surgery last week and pathology testing - the results of which I received...this morning.
Grade 1. Stage 1a.
This is as good as cancer diagnosis ever gets and means, post surgery, there is no further treatment required. I will need ongoing active monitoring for 5 years, but I cannot express how relieved I am, and how incredibly lucky I know full well I am.
Over the last couple of months, I joined 2 cancer support networks, and I have seen people with my exact diagnosis receive horrible path reports and go from symptom-free to deceased in 4 months. I've seen women with terrible burns from ongoing radiation, or massive weight loss due to the nausea from chemo. I've seen more bald heads than at a Men's HairClub conference. And I've seen despair and sadness, like the woman who is an active quilter, given one year (optimistically) to live, who shared with us her quilting projects list - most pressing projects for her children first - and her overall goal of using all her fabric before she died. Since endo cancer, when it spreads, goes firstly to the vagina, rectum and bladder, I've seen women - true warriors - endure stents and pain and stomas and terror, the likes of which are simply beyond my comprehension.
So, for everyone who asked and supported me; thank you. Your kindness has been well noted and appreciated more than I can say.
But if you can spare a few seconds, please send out a prayer for those who don't receive my news, and for whom life becomes a continual, daily struggle out of the darkness of depression, towards the light of joy. I have been blessed by God beyond measure for no reason I can comprehend. If there's a rhyme or reason to it, I don't know what it is. But I know that my job at this point is to be grateful. To never take this life for granted. And to always, always offer the same hand to others that was offered to me.
This is a poem someone posted this morning in one of my groups. From now on, my commitment is that I will try to provide supportive arms, and help form the circle of support referred to below.
Thank you to all of you who were in my circle of support. Thank you very, very much.
For Sharon
When worry breaks your sweetest sleep and tugs
you to the surface of the ocean-deep night,
your thoughts like flotsam, the despair
rocking up against the bulwark of doubt
and fear that builds, drop by drop by drop
as a faucet leaks, ears throbbing with the tum
of your pulse, each breath chasing the next,
Know this: how the darkness tricks, snags us
with its lies, the huckster’s wink hidden
by a veil, and on the other side stands tall
your family and every friend who bears your cause
their ceaseless prayers, stalwart hearts, their many arms
around you form a circle that will not break
even when you think you might, their love reflecting
just a glimmer of the extravagant love of the One
who we belong to and who belongs to us.
Remember – even in the darkest dark of night
you have never been alone.
Not once.
Grade 1. Stage 1a.
This is as good as cancer diagnosis ever gets and means, post surgery, there is no further treatment required. I will need ongoing active monitoring for 5 years, but I cannot express how relieved I am, and how incredibly lucky I know full well I am.
Over the last couple of months, I joined 2 cancer support networks, and I have seen people with my exact diagnosis receive horrible path reports and go from symptom-free to deceased in 4 months. I've seen women with terrible burns from ongoing radiation, or massive weight loss due to the nausea from chemo. I've seen more bald heads than at a Men's HairClub conference. And I've seen despair and sadness, like the woman who is an active quilter, given one year (optimistically) to live, who shared with us her quilting projects list - most pressing projects for her children first - and her overall goal of using all her fabric before she died. Since endo cancer, when it spreads, goes firstly to the vagina, rectum and bladder, I've seen women - true warriors - endure stents and pain and stomas and terror, the likes of which are simply beyond my comprehension.
So, for everyone who asked and supported me; thank you. Your kindness has been well noted and appreciated more than I can say.
But if you can spare a few seconds, please send out a prayer for those who don't receive my news, and for whom life becomes a continual, daily struggle out of the darkness of depression, towards the light of joy. I have been blessed by God beyond measure for no reason I can comprehend. If there's a rhyme or reason to it, I don't know what it is. But I know that my job at this point is to be grateful. To never take this life for granted. And to always, always offer the same hand to others that was offered to me.
This is a poem someone posted this morning in one of my groups. From now on, my commitment is that I will try to provide supportive arms, and help form the circle of support referred to below.
Thank you to all of you who were in my circle of support. Thank you very, very much.
For Sharon
When worry breaks your sweetest sleep and tugs
you to the surface of the ocean-deep night,
your thoughts like flotsam, the despair
rocking up against the bulwark of doubt
and fear that builds, drop by drop by drop
as a faucet leaks, ears throbbing with the tum
of your pulse, each breath chasing the next,
Know this: how the darkness tricks, snags us
with its lies, the huckster’s wink hidden
by a veil, and on the other side stands tall
your family and every friend who bears your cause
their ceaseless prayers, stalwart hearts, their many arms
around you form a circle that will not break
even when you think you might, their love reflecting
just a glimmer of the extravagant love of the One
who we belong to and who belongs to us.
Remember – even in the darkest dark of night
you have never been alone.
Not once.