Surviving Cancer

Many hours later, I woke up to a blurry image of Erik and his Mom standing near me in the recovery room. The doctor said everything went as well as could be expected. To our surprise, he said the tumor was the size of a cantaloupe and that it had enough fluid inside to fill a Big Gulp. It had completely taken over my torso. Because of this, my other organs were pushed out of their normal position. We were shocked. How could that have been inside me and we had no idea?
 
I couldn't feel much pain at that time, because I was on so many medications, but I could barely speak. It hurt just to whisper, which was something I didn't expect. Recovery was rough that day. I couldn't move and all I wanted to do was sleep. That was not going to happen. Nurses came in every hour or so to check my vitals and see how I was doing. In the middle of the night, one of the machines kept beeping because it wasn't working properly and it was utterly impossible for Erik and I to get any rest.

The next morning, I was feeling a little better. I was able to walk about 10 yards down the hall, which was a huge improvement. Erik joked that Farmor (his grandma) would have beat me in a race. My sister brought Claire and Ethan to visit later that morning and I was so excited to see them. Even better than seeing them, was seeing my parents for the first time in 18 months. They were scheduled to come home from their mission in Norway the next week, but left seven days early to be with me in the hospital. I was overjoyed to have my parents finally by my side. They also got to meet Ethan for the first time. Ethan and my Dad already have a special bond (Ethan's middle name is Victor, my Dad's name) and it was so nice to see them together. Claire was delighted to see them again, as was I.

I remained in the hospital until Sunday (November 24th). My doctor said I could stay as long as I wanted, but I was feeling a little better and knew it would be easier on everyone if I went home. The drive home was miserable. Erik drove slow and cautiously, but every little bump was extremely painful. That week, I was a bump on a log. I literally laid on the couch all day and couldn't move. Every time I would sit up or lay down, I could feel and hear all of my insides slosh around. It was such an uncomfortable feeling. Between Erik, my Mom, and his Mom, someone was there to help me everyday. I wasn't allowed to pick up Ethan for six weeks, which was a huge challenge. Our friends, ward members, and families babysat the kids, brought in meals, and did so much for us during that time.

Thursday was Thanksgiving Day. It was definitely a challenge getting ready, but I made it to Erik's Aunt's house. As usual, we went around the room and said what we were grateful for. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would say that I was grateful to be alive. Thanksgiving and being grateful had a new meaning for me that year.

On Saturday, November 30th (8 days after surgery), we finally received a call from my doctor with the official pathology results. I had kidney cancer (clear cell renal cell carcinoma). It was unreal. Knowing that it was truly cancer and not just a tumor was devastating. I thought I was out of the woods after surgery, but now the emotional turmoil continued. Even though I was out of commission for about six weeks, the emotional part has been far more difficult than the physical. Not a day goes by that I don't think about what my future might bring. Will it come back? Will I die young because of it? Do I have a disease that predisposes me to this and other cancers? Do my children have that gene? It's been really hard and even though I try not to worry about the unknown, it's scary.

A couple of weeks after my surgery, I went in for my first post-op appointment. I was aware that I would not be meeting with my doctor, but when the nurse walked in, I knew I had seen him somewhere. Turns out, he was the first person I saw when I was wheeled into the operating room and the last person I looked at before going under. Dr. Brooks looked at my stomach and said the four-inch incision down the center and the three one-inch incisions nearby were healing nicely. It was great to hear.

Later that month, we received a call from my doctor's assistant. She told me that Dr. Fisher had spoke to his colleagues about my case and they all determined that I needed to have genetic testing. I was so young and had no family history, which made my case very rare. In fact, I was the youngest patient to have renal cell carcinoma that he'd operated on. That was not a record I wanted to break. Unfortunately, our insurance will not cover the testing (they say it is 'investigative') and we are still working with the genetic counselor to figure out our best financial option. These tests are thousands and thousands of dollars so we are hoping we can find a loop hole or cheaper option somewhere.

After six weeks of recovery, I was finally able to release my babysitters from their call of duty and pick up/hold Ethan for the first time. The many weeks of dinners, babysitting, and our moms cleaning the house came to an end. Now it was back to normal life. Sort of.

Shortly after this whole ordeal, I purchased a bracelet to remind myself of what I went through. Each item is of great significance. There is an orange garnet eye (the stone of courage), a 'forget me not' bead, and a cancer survivor ribbon. I wear it every single day to help me remember the lessons I learned through my fight with cancer.

My life will never be the same after this experience. Kidney cancer will forever be on my mind and it will be months before I am pain free. I will always be grateful for the outcome I had at this time, but will continue to be scared of what the future might bring. I hope that I will be able to function completely with one kidney, that cancer will not infect my body again, and that my children and I will be free of any predisposing cancer gene. My stomach may look like I've been in a bear fight, but in strange way, it brings me comfort and reminds me of how precious life is. Seize the moment. Tell your family you love them. Be patient with your children. And maybe most importantly, get a yearly physical. It may save your life!