A Tera - What?

I hope you had a very Happy Thanksgiving! This is long, so I will get straight to the point. I want to share a story with you.

Two weeks ago, I shot straight up in my bed. It was 4:00 am, and I was fairly confident that someone had stabbed me in the stomach. I ruled Mike out because he was still sleeping, and I didn't think I had done anything recently that warranted physical harm. I crept downstairs and poured myself some of that green juice that tastes like garlic but everyone pretends tastes great. I thought maybe it would help calm my stomach down, but it didn't seem to do anything. So I sat on the couch with the awful pain and eventually fell asleep. When I woke up, I called the doctor and let her know what was going on. She suggested I come in immediately. Mike drove me downtown, noting that I would be a danger to the City of Dallas if I got behind the wheel. We got to the doctor's office, sat in the waiting room and waited.

Mike played a game on his phone.

It's called Deer Hunter.

Have you seen it? It does exactly what its name suggests. The player tries their best to massacre a fake cartoon deer with a ginormous AK-47. I wasn't happy and since I had already read all the People magazines in the waiting room, our conversation went a little like this:

J: "Why are you playing that game? I hate that game. Stop it."

M: "I'm Sorry. What would you prefer for me to do?"

J: "I would prefer for you to stop playing that stupid game. Do you see any other husbands in here playing video games?"

M: "I don't see any other husbands in here at all. Maybe I should have waited in the car."

Thankfully for both of us, the nurse opened the door and called my name. I followed her to a back room, changed into the flimsy paper gown and laid on the table. "I am going to do a sonogram" the technician announced to me.

"Ok. Any idea what you are looking for down there?" I asked.

"We are just trying to get a better idea of what is causing the pain. By the way, your uterus looks great!"

"Thanks..." I said, because - what else can you say?

We finished up and I was sent back into the waiting room. I began to cry, partially from the pain, but also because I was starting to get scared. After her initial compliment, the sonogram tech had gone radio silent. I knew something was going on because I saw grey, fuzzy images on the screen that looked nothing like the hundreds of in utero fetuses I have seen posted on Facebook, plus I didn't think I was pregnant. When I asked what the pictures were, the tech kept saying, "The doctor will want to talk to you about this."

My biggest fear has always been that something would be wrong and I would not be able to have to children. There were too many unknowns at this point, and my mind was spiraling with the worst possible scenarios.

Finally, we got a chance to talk with my doctor. "You have a mass on your left ovary," she said. It's bizarre though, because your pain is on the right." Yes, bizarre.

She explained that this was not a "classic" ovarian cyst, being neither water filled nor an easily recognizable benign mass. She wanted to take it out as soon as possible. I needed to get an MRI done so she could get a better look  - would next Tuesday work for surgery? She needed to run some blood tests. With the odd shape, she wanted to rule out anything "abnormal."

I asked her if she was talking about cancer. My doctor said, "Well, yes, but a very, VERY small chance." I didn't hear much after she said Yes. I was picturing operations and chemo, hair loss and wigs. How much I hate throwing up.

Mike looked like he had been punched in the face. He kept saying, "I'm sorry. Could you explain this again? I really did not think you were going to be saying any of this." My doctor was incredibly patient and kind. She drew a full diagram out for us, but really didn't have any answers. She kept apologizing, and explaining that she would have a much better idea of what needed to be done once the MRI was completed.

We booked the surgery for the next Tuesday. We talked with Wendy, who had me sign a consent reminding me that if the doctor got a look at the mass and was unable to easily remove it, she had my permission to also remove my left ovary. She also discussed the possibility of calling "Other Doctors" if the blood work came back with "Abnormal" results.

"Oncologists" I said.

"Well, yes" Wendy agreed.

We went home. Neither of us said a word during the drive, and my phone rang almost as soon as we walked in the door. My dad was checking to see if I had gone to the doctor and I was holding on to the blue sticky note that had the names of the four blood tests being run. CA 125 was first on the list. CA...CA...CANCER....I started crying when I tried to explain what had happened. Mike took the phone and went outside to talk with my parents. I went upstairs and continued to cry.

Here's the thing about me and crying. I cry all the time. I cry when I am sad, angry or happy. It's really very confusing to those who love me. That night I was really angry, but I just cried.

The next week is a blur. I sat and waited for two days until Wendy called with my test results. My CA 125 was only very slightly elevated and there did not seem to be cause for concern. They would not be contacting an oncologist. We had gotten over one hurtle, leaving the MRI and the surgery. Mike had to leave for a conference and thankfully, my mother was able to come into town.

Before the MRI. 

Essentially, I pushed the pause button on life until Monday night. I didn't have anything I really wanted to do and I was in too much pain to exercise or concentrate on reading. Mom and I went to see a movie. We watched a lot of television. Mom taught me how to knit. Mike got back into town.

This is going to be a scarf...

One night at dinner, Mike asked me if I wanted to discuss my wishes if something were to happen to me. I wish you could have seen my mom's face. He now claims it was "a joke."

I slept for a whopping 2.5 hours that Monday night. I couldn't eat or drink anything after midnight, so I stared at the television. Mike, mom and I headed to the hospital, arriving promptly at 5:15 am. I changed again into a flimsy hospital gown, and waited for 2 hours while the nurses poked at me and asked questions. Finally, the anesthesiologist came in and gave me something to help me relax. As I was drifting away, I heard Mike say, "I won't let them take both your ovaries. I promise." It was the best thing he could have said.

I woke up two hours later, incredibly thirsty and very loopy.

Things go in and out after that, but the next thing I remember is seeing mom and Mike smiling on either side of me. "How did it go?" I asked. "Everything is great" they said. "It couldn't have gone better!" I still had both my ovaries and the doctor was able to completely remove the mass.

I cried, but this time it was because I was happy.

Turns out I had a benign congenital teratoma. Have you ever heard of that? Me neither. Apparently, they are rare and made up of tissues that develop while you are in the womb. Most likely it has been there all my life, so this is really all my mother's fault. If you Google it, you will see pictures of masses with teeth, hair and other random body parts. They wouldn't let me bring it home. I asked.

It has been 5 days since the surgery and I am doing well. I have three tiny incisions on my lower abdomen, giving me an excuse to wear sweatpants at all times. The weird thing is we still don't know what was causing the pain. The doctor suggested severe digestive issues, which led to the discovery of this mass. I'm not sure about that - we are going back to see her next week.

We didn't end up being able to travel to Birmingham for Thanksgiving, so Mike cooked an entire Thanksgiving feast for us here in Dallas. He even fried a turkey. Before my mother left, she made me a pecan pie, which I devoured in three days. An entire pie.

The turkey looks almost as big as the dog. It was only 10 pounds lighter.

Every year around this time, I say, "I am thankful for my health, my friends and my family" but honestly, I always took my health for granted. While I only suffered a scare this year, it made me realize how lucky I am to be healthy and able bodied. I am incredibly thankful for family and friends who said it was ok to be scared. That this kind of thing is scary, and that maybe, they were a little scared too. And my heart goes out to the families that are dealing with or have dealt with serious health issues- you are much braver than me.

Happy Belated Thanksgiving! I hope you spent time with some of the ones you love.