Fighter, Survivor…I’m Kicking Cancer’s Ass and Taking Names

The past few months have been, to say the least, the biggest challenge of my life.  And I’m not kidding when I say that.  I’ve gone through a heart attack at 30.  Two knee surgeries before I was 40.  Gastric Bypass Surgery (thank you for saving my life).  And now this.

I relate my cancer to showing up six months ago, but in reality I’m sure it was over a year before diagnosis.  Heavy horrible periods, hip pain, all the tell-tale signs that told me no tale.

I read other cancer blogs – people who are at stage IV.  It makes me feel guilty sometimes that I am fighting as hard as I am to put this behind me.  A stage III cancer diagnosis is scary.  Scary. As. Hell.  But then you hear of people at Stage IV and something in that brain clicks that says, “Hey, I could have it worse.”

It makes me feel bad to say that, well, yes, I am fighting this.  With every single fiber of my being.

And I’m feeling it.

Surgery – yup.  Bring it.  Take it out.  Get rid of it.  Extract it.  Remove that horrible cancerous tumor and all associated organs from my body.  Worst recovery ever.  But I did it.

Chemo?  Why not.  Bring it.  Paclitaxil and Carboplatin.  3 Rounds.  While I’m still recovering from my hysterectomy.  Worst sick I’ve ever felt.  But I did it.

Radiation?  25 rounds.  Bring it.  I’m still standing.  Sicker than I was with chemo, and I worked through the entire process.

Brachytherapy?  3 rounds of someone putting a radioactive rod up my vag?  Sure.  Bring it.  Horrible side effects, by the way.  Feels like I’m still pissing razor blades and acid.  But I did it.

Now, three more rounds of chemo.  Bring them.  Today I’d kill to eat.  But it isn’t going to happen.  Food and I are not on the same level today.  I’m hungry, but the smell and taste aren’t happening.  Bring on the saltines.

Remission?  Hell yeah.

My grandmother was a 40+ year survivor of endometrial cancer.  And I’m going to do it too.

I’m going to fight.  Because I can.  Because I’m worth it.

I’ve learned that dwelling on the negatives doesn’t really get me anywhere.  I could, but really, it would just bring everyone down around me.

But I decided today, that I am no longer going to feel guilty for fighting.  For doing everything in my power to win.

Because I wanna be just like my granny.

I’ll see you on my 84th birthday.  And I’ll be wearing a “Fuck You Cancer” t-shirt.


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