Started a CaringBridge page to journal just my cancer journey. If you visit, please sign the guest book.
I am already so tired of cancer. I drove over 1000 miles last week for appointments and will drive AT LEAST that many more to get a second opinion at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN. I am only 40, my future deserves a second look. My kids deserve me to have the best care available.
The current health system I have been doctoring has left me with a few uneasy feelings so the travel is worth the peace of mind.
I am scared…I cannot screw this up. I NEED this done right the first time so I don’t have to watch my family and friends go through this again. Yes, that is harder for me than dealing with the issue on its’ own; watching my family and friends hurting for me.
My cancer has a name: Dorothy. When I had my thyroid nodules, The Photographer named it Percy (for perspective). While on my way to my first appointment in Fargo I texted her and said, “This thing needs a name.” Within a few hours she responded with Dorothy…I frequently refer to my life as the storm I am living in…storm…tornado…Dorothy. I loved it. Then she texted me again to share with me that the meaning of the name is God’s gift. Who am I to turn down a gift from God?
I have been including Dorothy in hashtags on my Facebook status updates that range from #dorothymustdie to #dorothybegone to a simple #cancersucks. I am blessed with an awesome circle of family and friends. We are enjoying the humorous aspect of this whole ordeal.
I was standing in the elevator with my mom and niece and I kept hitting the #3 button (we were on the third floor and trying to get to the lobby). She asked if there was a reason I was hitting the wrong button and I guffawed saying well I DO have cancer…both of them rolled their eyes and said my excuse was already getting pretty old. She reminded me that it was in my boob, NOT my brain. I told her when I am dead they will be so sad when they remember making fun of me in the elevator. Neither one of them seemed to think they would…all compassion I tell ya! LOL
I can already picture my funeral (don’t worry, I don’t think this is even going to come close to killing me)…people are going to be interrupting the pastor, giggling, talking, listening to music, updating their Facebook, and taking selfies with my body.