They say that love and romance aren't supposed to hurt. I would venture to say that love does hurt. It hurts a whole hell of a lot. Rejection does, too. It bothers me that I'm always getting passed over in favor of someone prettier or more outgoing, or someone who's able to produce children. :-/ and that's something I can't do. :-( they say that there's someone out there for everybody. Everybody except me, it seems. Ugh, it feels like cancer has robbed me of so much. :-/
*kathy*
They say that March 30th is National Doctors Day, or something like that. Well, in that case, there are a couple of medical specialists that are near and dear to me: Dr. Winfrey and Dr. Moxley. Without them, I don't think I would be where I am today. They showed tenacity when it came to fight my cancer. They truly have gone above and beyond for me. And for that, I'll always be grateful. :-)
*kathy*
At what point do you tell a potential partner about your cancer diagnosis and the fact that you can never have children? You don't wish to say anything because you don't want to run the risk of scaring him off. But on the other hand, the cancer is an important part of your history. It's not like you can ignore or deny it, like you can do with past relationships that did not end well. You have to find the right time to tell him, I would think. Just something I've been thinking about recently.
*kathy*
It has been so long since I've had good health, I've almost forgotten what it's like to be healthy. I was doing good for a while, eating 3 meals a day. But my health comes and goes, I guess. Lots of things are making me nauseous again, and I'm losing a bit of weight. Being diabetic, that's not good. I'm thinking that maybe it's the hormone medication I'm on. I don't know for sure.
But the bright side is that this time, I'm not losing weight like I was before. So there's my silver lining. I would like to lose more weight, but I plan to do it gradually. I just got to take it one day at a time.
*kathy*
It's been exactly 7 months now since my cancer diagnosis, and it still feels like I heard those devastating words just yesterday. I guess it's something that I'll never, ever forget.
*kathy*
Can't wait until April 5th, the day of Relay for Life. I have so many ideas of what I would like to sell to bring awareness to endometrial cancer. Gonna sell brownies in small treat bags and tie the bags in peach ribbons. :-) oh, and I'm selling peach bracelets, too. :-) they're also having a cake auction, and I'm planning to make peach cobbler. But not because of the "peach" connection. I am using my mom's recipe, and I figured that this would be her way of contributing to the event. :-) I hope to educate at least one person that night. Then I will have done my job.
*kathy*
Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I had never had cancer. Would I have had any kids? And if I did, what would they have looked like? Would they look like me, or would they look their father? How many would I have had? I find myself asking these questions every once in a while. I still wish I could have the opportunity to find out. But obviously, life had other plans. :-/ I also believe my attitude and outlook have changed, too. I have learned to appreciate the important things. Not that I didn't already do that, but I have learned not to take advantage of stuff, like my health, because you never know how long you'll have it.
*kathy*
The hardest thing to accept about this cancer is knowing that I'll never be able to have children. Every time I hear of someone I know getting pregnant, it feels like someone has ripped my heart out. Yes, I'm happy for my friends, but it still burns me up inside that I can't have that. :-( and I don't care what anyone says. Adoption simply is not the same. It's just not. But hopefully one day I can see the bright side of this. I just gotta learn to be patient.
*kathy*
Before I had cancer, there were a lot of things I took for granted. A lot. But since that horrible Friday afternoon in late August, my outlook on life has most certainly changed. I suppose that is a good thing. :-) so here's a list of things I appreciate more now (some serious, some not so much):
*friendship and family
*love
*long hair
*sunrises (mean I woke up!)
*sunsets
*laughter
*health
*energy
*cancer awareness
*food
*children
*kathy*
Sometimes I wonder if it was worth having a hysterectomy last September. I seem to have a lot of problems with my right hip whenever the weather changes. :-/ (I guess that's what happens when you fall off the bed two weeks after the bed!) There are a lot of things I can't eat anymore because it'll mess up my stomach. And the stuff I can tolerate isn't diabetic friendly. So there's a fine line between what tastes good and what I'm supposed to have. And it bothers me that I can't have kids. Ever. A lot of times, I feel like I got robbed of that opportunity. I hear some friends talk about their kids and getting pregnant. Yes, I am indeed happy for them and rejoice in their news. But deep down, I feel like I have failed somehow because I haven't blessed the world with children. Yeah, the cancer is gone, but look at the extremely heavy price I have had to pay because of it. I wish sometimes that I could have done chemotherapy and radiation to fight the cancer, as opposed to having the surgery. That way, the possibility of having kids one day remained available. But I suppose that things happened this way for a reason. It might take some time for me to realize what that reason is, but it'll come eventually.
*kathy*
A week from today (3/19) will mark exactly six months since I had my hysterectomy. I can't believe that I'm halfway through my estimated recovery time, according to Dr. Moxley. It doesn't seem like it's been that long. Yes, I still have my bad days, both physically and emotionally, but the good thing is that those are fewer and farther in between than they used to be, and that's truly something to celebrate.
*kathy*
I was asked recently to share my story about my diagnosis. I was only too happy to oblige. It hurts to know that there are so many women that suffer in silence but don't want to do anything about it because they don't want experience any of the discomfort of the testing they would have to go through. You can't do that. That's exactly what I did, and look what has happened. Had I gone to get help when I first started having problems, I might have prevented the cancer from forming, and I might have been able to have kids. But regardless of the incredible sting I feel of not being able to bear children, I am happy. Why? Because I am alive. Who knows? Maybe my story will inspire at least one woman to get herself checked out. And if I can help at least one woman (if only one) by telling what has happened to me, then I will have been successful.
*kathy*
