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It’s Friday, It’s Friday

I’m sorry I’ve been such a downer as of late. My blog was supposed to be a depressing catalog of infertility ramblings, rather than a depressing site dedicated to my feelings about cancer. I apologize if I have thrown you off subject.

You’ll be happy to know that Day 1 “DPO” (haha with an FET you can almost pretend you are doing this the normal way because you are following somewhat of  a cycle), and I have no progesterone symptoms yet. Oh, don’t think I’m that naive, I know that they are coming. I said YET. By this time next week I can assure you that I will be a raving lunatic all hopped up on hormones.

One of the things about cancer is that it affects all people differently. Hearing about it for the first time, many people offer condolences. Many just shake thier head quietly and look away. Some are emboldended to ask the tough questions, but mostly those are the people who really have no business asking at all. They are emotionally removed but want the gory details. Then there are the people who have loved ones who have fought the disease and lost.  There is a chance that my mother could be a survivor, but there is a chance that she could not. There is a chance that sometime in the future I may be one of these people who’s faces plainly reveal a familiarity with the pain that is cancer, as soon as the word is uttered. They have been where I am  now standing. They know the long journey that I am about to embark upon. It is something that only those who have been with someone who has fought cancer can know. They know that words can not prepare me. That there is no book or no doctor given explaination that can prepare me for the horror of watching someone you love endure chemotherapy. Endure being sick. Endure being unable to eat or drink. Endure frightening physical deterioration. I know that they feel sorry for me, but in many cases I know that my admission that the disease has settled itself upon my family opens old wounds for them. Wounds that have quite possibly never healed. My story may dredge up old sadnesses or anger long repressed. There is anger. Cancer is a very maddening disease. It is not selective of who it crawls into, stealing away their strength and taking over cells. It does not care if you have children or a husband or a wife or grand kids or future plans. It only cares that you have blood and tissue and cells to feed on. It is a hungry disease and it will eat you away, giving no thought to the massive destruction that it leaves behind. And the guilt. There is such guilt. About not spending enough time, about not feeling the right way,  about feeling angry at the disease. Maybe even at the person for being sick. We feel guilty for not knowing sooner.  We knew she wasn’t feeling well, why didn’t we make her get checked out sooner? How could we not have known? How did we let it get this far without intervening? We should have known that the cancer was there.   There are people that know these feelings. That have been through them. Have been to hell with a loved one but come back alone. That is what cancer does. It leaves you alone.

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Day After Surgery

I am in bed wishing I were still asleep. Now that she has moved from the oncology unit to the post-op floor, we have to follow normal visiting hours which means no staying the night with her and not getting there until 10am. In a way this is a blessing, as it gives us time to rest and regenerate for a long day ahead. My brother leaves to go back go Salt Lake today and I am dreading it. I do not want him to go. My mom’s sisters will start getting in today and tomorrow but I’m afraid the novelty of cancer will wear off and I’ll be stuck as the only caretaker as everyone else goes back to their normal lives. I know that this surgery business is the easy part compared to what’s to come. I fear for my 12 year old sister and what she will have to endure. Her father died. She has already been through so much.

As for FET #1, I’m on 3 estrogen a day right now and am having those vivid hormone dreams. That’s the only thing goin on with that.