The Verdict

So – the diagnosis is complex atypical endometrial hyperplasia) in polyps bordering on endometrioid adenocarcinoma.

In English?  Precancerous cells.  And they need to come out.  Along with all the other parts.

They actually do not know for sure if it is cancer.  They won’t until they get in there and look.

So, in the next two weeks, I will be having a full hysterectomy.  When I say full hysterectomy, it means uterus, fallopian tubes, ovaries and cervix.  They will also look at the lymph nodes and biopsy them while I’m out.  I’ll be having the surgery at University of Maryland Medical Center.  I’ll be there four days.

I am a little relieved to at least know (mostly) what this is and have a plan of action to tackle it.  In most cases, the hysterectomy is the full treatment, unless they find issues with the lymph nodes, and then possible radiation and chemo.  Depends on what they find.

So, keep up the thoughts and prayers.

MUAH to you all

Hi Ho Hi Ho…Back to Work I Go

So, I’ve been off on short term for the past week and a half because they thought I had a virus.  Which in retrospect may actually not be a virus, but I’m not trying to think about that.

I’m ready to go back, even though I’m going to be slammed.  I worked today from home, but being back in the office is a whole different matter.

And then I have Thursday hanging over my head.

I also had my conversation with my supervisor about the big “C” today.  Bah.  Horrible conversation to have when you are actually talking about yourself.

Crappy day all around folks.

Distractions – I Haz Them

 

devil hat

I’ve named my area of interest Audrey.  Because this is how I picture it:

Right?
So, things to think about other than “Holy fucking shit do I have cancer?”
Knitting – this is my current project:

George Clooney – because, well, c’mon!

Painting my toe nails – this is the color I’m painting them tonight:

Lindt Dark Chocolate with Sea Salt

My 9th grandbaby who is going to make her appearance any day – this is her mama’s current view:
Photo: My view today. Big belly and my snuggle doggie Diego.
George Clooney (did I already say that?  So?)

And how I may treat myself to a shoing of Magic Mike this weekend – just because –

See, not cancer talky at all.

Cancer What the Hey?

I’ve been in tons of cancer/oncology waiting rooms.  In every case, I was accompanying someone else.  That someone else was always the patient.  Until today.

The Cancer Center at the University of Maryland Medical Center is huge.  I mean HUGE.  And the place is pretty impressive.  They have this huge massive waiting room that has all the creature comforts of home – huge flat screens, internet docking stations, cell phone charging stations, couches, a refreshment counter…I was impressed.  Of course, there are constant reminders around you that despite it looking like a large hotel lobby, it is in fact, a hospital.  Like all the doctors and nurses and handwashing stations.

So, they called me back and I met with the nurse practitioner.  She went over my medical history (and needed an extra sheet of paper) and my symptoms.  Then she went over what sparked this whole thing (my back pain with the stray cyst on my ovary).  By then I had been in there an hour, and had been out of the house for two hours, and had a large cup of coffee in me, and I was doing the peepee dance in my seat.  She told me then the doctor would be in, and to get dressed from the waist down.  That’s when I asked to use the rest room, and she said sure.

So, when I got back to the room, I wrapped the blanket around my waist, and waited for Dr. Rao to come in.  When he did, he explained what they were going to do, what they had seen on the MRI report (lots of fibroids and an “area of interest”) and told me they were going to do an endometrial biopsy.  And they’d need me to give a urine sample.  o.O

Luckily, I’m still on the lasix, so in about 10 minutes I had to pee again.  Turns out they were doing a pregnancy test.  I’m not.  Duh.  Trust me – spend a month with the virus from hell, and sexin’s is the last thing on your mind.  So, they do the exam, and then proceed to do the biopsy (OUCH X 1,000,000,000) and then they tell me that they’ll have the results back in one week, but he’s 99% certain that I am going to need a hysterectomy.  Well, shit.  More surgery.

So, I go back in one week to find out if this “area of interest” is malignant or not.  And they are probably going to do the hysterectomy even if it is benign because of my wicked family history of cancer.  So, yay.

So, that’s where we are.

At least Dr. Rao is cute.  Of course, cute in the “Wow he looks like he’s 12” cute, and not the George Clooney kind of cute.  Because yeah, no one needs to be all hot and bothered by they gynecological oncologist.

RIP – Maurice Sendak 1929 – 2012

May your Wild Rumpus continue where ever you may be…

*cough* So Much For Blogging More

So, last I left you, we were having another grandbaby.  She’s progressing nicely, and her big sister Braelyn is ready for her impending arrival in August.

In other news, I’m taking two classes this summer.  I’ve been released from ortho care regarding my knee (healing awesome!) and am busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest.

Work is work (there is news on that front, but I’m not posting more about it because who knows who can access this bad boy) and life moves on.

Maybe one day I’ll get back to regular blogging.  Until then, bare with me.

Nine

http://platform.twitter.com/widgets/hub.1326407570.htmlWhen my step-daughter Jessie was up at Christmas, she shared with us a secret.  A secret that set this step-mom’s heart into over time worry.  I wouldn’t let myself get excited.  And I couldn’t stop worrying about a woman who I have come to love just as much as if I had birthed her myself.
Jessie told us she was pregnant.
If you have been following me, then you know that Jessie has had problems staying pregnant.  Before Brae, before Bob and I were even married, Jessie lost a baby that never progressed passed six weeks.  They got preggers with Braelyn on the very first try afterwards, and had a lovely, smooth, and eventless pregnancy, and I was blessed with my tiniest and spunkiest grandbaby of all eight of them.  And Jess and TJ wanted so bad to make more little munchkins just like her.
And they tried.  And tried.  And tried.  Five subsequent pregnancies, followed by five miscarriages – all at the same point.  The baby  never progresses past six or eight weeks.  They ran every test imaginable on Jess and TJ both and came up with nothing.  And with every subsequent pregnancy and miscarriage, my heart ached for Jess and TJ.  And I secretly in my head begged them to stop.  This grammie’s heart couldn’t take another loss, and I would have been devistated if through all of this, something had happened to Jess as well.
So, when Christmas came, and Jess told us her news, I felt bad.  Bob and I should have gotten up and danced around for her.  But we couldn’t.  We couldn’t speak.  We couldn’t show her we were excited (we weren’t).  She told us she was just barely pregnant – six weeks along.  So I hugged her (probably a little too hard) and told her that no matter what, we were throwing prayers in the air and hoping for sticky dust for this little one.
And as each week has gone by, and with each doctor appointment (Jess sees her OB every week), and with each report of a strong heartbeat, Bob and I let ourselves relax a little more, and hope a little more.
On Wednesday, I got a text from Jessica to send prayers – she was going in for her first sonogram.  They’d get to see what was going on (it was always at this appointment that the bad news hit).  This was at 7:30 in the morning.   And at 12:30, I got this on my phone:

This, my friends, is grandbaby number 9.  Heathly, perfectly progressing, and twelve weeks and 3 days along.  We are past the danger zone.  My sweet Jessie is finally going to have her two babies.  Braelyn is going to be a big sister.
And I am already in love.
At 5:30 Wednesday night, Jessie posted this picture to Facebook:

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