Had a dark night of the soul a couple nights ago. I found an online oral cancer "support group" that scared the bejeezus out of me. First were the statistics: 85% survival for one year, 59% survival for 5 years, 47% survival for 10 years. After I digested this, well, then I got onto a chat thread. The personal stories were even scarier.
So that night I got into bed and laid there feeling like it had finally sunk in that I have Cancer. Actual cancer. A disease whose treatment hasn't changed much since the turn of the last century, cutting out the bad parts and applying radiation. And I started thinking over all I've done and not done. I can't say I don't have regrets. I have plenty. But lying in bed trying to rewrite your life doesn't make for falling asleep. After a few hours, I got up and went into the living room.
My husband likes to sleep on the couch with the light and the TV on, neither of which I can tolerate, needing darkness and silence to even begin to relax enough to go to sleep. Not surprising, he was awake, so I had someone to unburden myself to. My mom's been visiting, but she was asleep, and I don't want to stress her out any more than she already is. So I shared my fear and got some comfort, which was good. Also a bit surprising, because he has never been able to relate to my chronic depression, and his usual advice to any fear I have is "don't think about it." This time he surpassed himself, and after we'd talked for a bit I was able to go and sleep.
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Sunday, March 11, 2012
The Big C part 2
Step one is over. I have had the surgery and am recovering from that before the radiation starts. I lost a third of my tongue and a bunch of lymph nodes on the right side of my neck, some of which were malignant. I have a scar that looks like someone tried to cut my head off. I had 2 drains in the right side but both are gone now. The surgery was Friday, March 2. I got to come home from the hospital Wednesday, March 7. I got the second drain out of my neck on Friday, March 9.
The chunk of tongue that's gone is on the right side towards the middle. I've been on liquids and pureed food, and am slowly going to have to re-learn to swallow. My speech, according to the doctor, is amazingly good, but compared to the perfect diction I used to have, I think I sound ghastly, and I tend to spit when I talk. Part of my tongue is still numb and part stings. Seem to taste everything OK, but I never had much of a palate.
I have gone from 200 lbs. and a size 22 to 178 lbs. and a size 16 in 3 months. If I had any illusions about the weight staying off (never has before), I'd regard that as the silver lining. I've learned that I'll get thinner before this is over, so I'm setting about packing up my regular clothes and gleaning smaller ones from assorted thrift shops. As long as I have pants that fit, I don't really mind baggy tops. I never liked my clothes tight. Weirdness: I know I've lost all this weight, and I can sure tell when I look at specific body parts, but when I look at my entire self in the mirror, I think I look about the same. Thin or fat, it's still me in here. I really only notice how fat I am in pictures. I should probably take pictures to commemorate my thinness!
I sound like I'm handling all this well, and I don't let a lot of the stuff inside out. But I'm really scared. I have zero risk factors for this kind of cancer, and got it anyway. It went from nothing to stage 3 (there are only 4 stages) in 2 months. This kind likes to grow back. You can bet my dentist is going to get tired of "Refer me to the dental surgeon! There's a thing on my tongue!" from now on. The what-if bunnies are multiplying. What if I get one like that somewhere not so noticeable? What if it grows back and they have to cut out more of my tongue? What if the radiation makes me lose my teeth? Terror. Oddly, I don't dream anything scary. I think my subconscious is realizing I don't need anything else. The teeth thing might not get to anyone else but my dad had full dentures the whole time I knew him, and it instilled in me a deep desire to die with all my teeth in place. Preferably of an advanced age. Hair, schmair, it grows back. Leave me my teeth.
The chunk of tongue that's gone is on the right side towards the middle. I've been on liquids and pureed food, and am slowly going to have to re-learn to swallow. My speech, according to the doctor, is amazingly good, but compared to the perfect diction I used to have, I think I sound ghastly, and I tend to spit when I talk. Part of my tongue is still numb and part stings. Seem to taste everything OK, but I never had much of a palate.
I have gone from 200 lbs. and a size 22 to 178 lbs. and a size 16 in 3 months. If I had any illusions about the weight staying off (never has before), I'd regard that as the silver lining. I've learned that I'll get thinner before this is over, so I'm setting about packing up my regular clothes and gleaning smaller ones from assorted thrift shops. As long as I have pants that fit, I don't really mind baggy tops. I never liked my clothes tight. Weirdness: I know I've lost all this weight, and I can sure tell when I look at specific body parts, but when I look at my entire self in the mirror, I think I look about the same. Thin or fat, it's still me in here. I really only notice how fat I am in pictures. I should probably take pictures to commemorate my thinness!
I sound like I'm handling all this well, and I don't let a lot of the stuff inside out. But I'm really scared. I have zero risk factors for this kind of cancer, and got it anyway. It went from nothing to stage 3 (there are only 4 stages) in 2 months. This kind likes to grow back. You can bet my dentist is going to get tired of "Refer me to the dental surgeon! There's a thing on my tongue!" from now on. The what-if bunnies are multiplying. What if I get one like that somewhere not so noticeable? What if it grows back and they have to cut out more of my tongue? What if the radiation makes me lose my teeth? Terror. Oddly, I don't dream anything scary. I think my subconscious is realizing I don't need anything else. The teeth thing might not get to anyone else but my dad had full dentures the whole time I knew him, and it instilled in me a deep desire to die with all my teeth in place. Preferably of an advanced age. Hair, schmair, it grows back. Leave me my teeth.
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