I have an endometrial condition that has a 29% chance of progressing to cancer--assuming it's not already there, just to the left or right of the biopsy snipper. It's not the kind of cancer that kills a person, I'm told; it's caught so early. But there is no medication course that remotely interests me: the uterus is coming out, and along with it the cervix. It upsets me; the uterus is just an idea, tucked up in there, beyond reach, past its productive life, but the cervix... I know my cervix. It's the front door. My child passed through it, and now it's a dented, well-lived door. What on earth is it like in there without the cervix? What am I like without it? My doctor advises that the hysterectomy is not immediately necessary--that we can get in there, look around, up the progesterone, wait and see. A friend in India admires that the doctor is not advising hysterectomy as the first course--that people don't die from this kind of cancer. The principle is lost on me; I don't trust doctors enough to be waiting and seeing comprehensively enough; it's not like they can take the thing out in its entirety and scan for trouble. Unless they actually take it out.
L and I went to church this morning; I've been wanting a place to go to unload all this anxiety, and in the absence of my mother (who's traveling for the holidays), I have no place. Neither is church the place; the priest was happy to see us--hugged us as we left. "How are you all?" she asked, but with a line of people behind me she couldn't have really wanted an authentic answer. "All good," I smiled. And then we left. You can't only show up on people's doorsteps when you need them. It's rude.
Nor do I have the patience to write it all out. I don't know why; there's so much to write. I wish I were more disciplined; I succumb too easily to spinning.
There was a full moon one of the nights around Christmas. We were driving through farm fields in Frederick, Maryland, and pulled over. The children ran outside, made a wish, then breathed it into the cold air, and blew the mist up to God. What a sight we make, blowing upwards on these evenings, as if we're keeping a tissue in the air. "One more year," I wished, as I do every year. What more can a person ask for? A year is pretty big stuff.
Hope you all had a lovely holiday, and all good wishes for the New Year.
6 comments:
Oh my gosh, I’m sorry.
But I can tell you that having been born without a uterus or cervix or anything else except a vagina, it’s been quite wonderful going through life without any pain ‘down there’, without any bleeding and without the fear of getting cancer in any of those bits. I’ve never missed any of it and have never envied my friends that had it.
What’s it like without a cervix? Well, my gay gynecologist (don’t ask) recently described my vagina as a cul-de-sac, for whatever that’s worth. But it does work, which I suppose is all that matters. I know your child passed through there, but it’s not like she’ll need to go back there anytime in the near future.
I think of you often and should you ever need to talk, send me an email or your number or both.
Love You and All the Best for the New Year.
I too, am sorry to read this. I can understand how you feel about it all.
{{{{{hugs}}}}}
My sons are now both older than I was when I lost my Dad to cancer. Each year for the past half dozen, I have felt as though I was on "borrowed time" and when someone asks what I'm thankful for on that November Thursday, my answer is always "To be here!"
I am sure that life continues just as it has, somehow, afterwards. Perhaps something has to be attached in some other manner to something else, but somehow it must work or they wouldn't suggest it.
Not only do you have children to think of, but their children, and hopefully their children as well! You, being you, wonderful you, would be the great-grandmother of all great-grandmothers! I was lucky enough to have one 'til I was 16 and she was very special to me!
As are you!
Though Blogzie is far more intelligent than I, and would be my first choice; I'm here if you want to write...
alan
You never cease to amaze me!
Much love in the New Year!
STB
Checking in to see how you are.....
Your life is not simple. We love you.
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