Cancer Ever After

Musings on Infertility, Adoption, Parenthood and Cancer

Questions

There are two questions I’ve been asked recently that threw me for a loop.  The first, had me actually doubling over in a fit of laughter, as I attempted to answer.

“You do know what causes that don’t you?”

This question accompanied a gesture toward my three very rambunctious children.  I was tempted to show the scars on my arms from the numerous shots and bloodwork that accompanied each attempt to have a child.  This scar tissue presents a problem in accessing my veins these days.

There are also the scars that don’t show.  The losses, the cumulative effect of three pregnancies in three years.  The fear of being able to carry to term, the worry that our adoption would fall through.  The sadness over not having a “normal” pregnancy. Grief at not having a “normal” birth experience.

I was tempted to show my latest budget as we continue to pay the bills that brought us these three wonders.  My retirement is decimated, we refinanced the car.

Instead, I doubled over in laughter, shook my head and said, “You have no idea what causes this.”  The gentleman looked at my strangely and walked off.

These days, I don’t have the time or energy to educate on infertility, which I would have done in the past.  My life is too blissfully full. I just love that you can’t tell when you look at our family all that came before. We look fertile. We look blissfully normal.

Which leads me to the other question.

Is he yours?

So far, I’ve only been asked this once and I thought I was prepared for when the day would come.  Because we fundraised for our adoption, pretty much everyone we interact with knows our son is adopted.  I don’t mention it to strangers, because it doesn’t matter. He is my son, and saying adopted son feels like a qualifier.  It will be part of his story and he will have his own thoughts on the matter as he grows, but I will not introduce him as adopted.

I have, through the course of work, met a couple people who mentioned they had adopted and then I’ll share, but it’s personal and it’s at my discretion.

My son doesn’t look like me.  I have blue eyes, the palest skin you’ll ever see, and surprisingly, still have some hair.  It’s blondish-brown. He has a warm, olive complexion, and the cutest brown curly hair you’ve ever seen with dancing brown eyes.

I’m sure this is what spurred the question.  But there are so many better ways to ask.  “How old is your son?” (and then let me correct).”What’s your son’s name?” Assume he is and let me say otherwise.

There is a final question, I get these days as it’s becoming more apparent that I am sick. “How do you do it all?” There is no magic to it.  I just take it one day at a time.

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The end of my world as I know it.

First off, let me start by apologizing. I left this blog so abruptly. I meant to tell more details of the birth of Baby H and neatly end the blog with our happy ending.  Make no mistake, it was a happy ending.  Our court proceedings went well and our adoption was finalized without a hitch.

I just couldn’t bring myself to take  a break from soaking him up to write.  Maternity leave was AMAZING.  Taking care of ONE baby when you AREN’T recovering from childbirth is the stuff dreams are made of.  Baby H was so easy-going, he was a dream to take care of and leave gave me extra days with P1 and H to play and have fun.

At three months, I wanted to write, but life was beautifully, wonderfully hectic with three kids under two.

I thought about it again when Baby H turned six months, but the little stinker was starting to crawl and really giving us a run for our money.  I was just so tired in my down time and I couldn’t find the time to put the words down that I kept writing in my head.

Updating you was a passing thought at nine months when Baby H was standing and trying to walk.  He was already saying words!!!!  But we’ve been basking in the milestones, and once again, I was just so tired between the kids and working.

Then Baby H got sick. I got the call from daycare and picked him up.  His temperature shot up to 104 and we made our first ER visit.  My girls had never had a fever this high and I was out of my mind with worry. The ER very condescendingly let me know we were overreacting and sent us home.

That night the fever climbed to 105.  We rotated ibuprofen every four hours religiously and continued to call the doctor with updates.  The next day, I made a quick run with the girls to get more ibuprofen.  That’s when I noticed that something was wrong with my neck.  I tried to turn my head and it felt like something “caught” in my neck.

I put it in the back of my mind and went home to take care of Baby H.  After four nerve-racking days of 104 degree fevers it abruptly broke, and Baby H was in the clear!  Somewhere during this time, I had gone to the bathroom to figure out what “caught” in my neck.

After looking closely I realized I had a lump in my neck. As soon as Baby H’s fever broke I called the Drs office to schedule an appointment.  When I told them why I was calling they said, “Why don’t you just come in to our prompt care.”  As soon as I got there, we were the first ones admitted, even though the waiting room was full.  I thought it was strange, but didn’t give it much thought.

The doctor look at my neck and recommended an ultrasound and bloodwork. As I was leaving, he casually mentioned, “We should rule out leukemia just in case.” Talk about your bedside manner!

Within the hour, Baby H and I were sitting in an ultrasound clinic and the lump was being scanned. I hadn’t been able to resist googling and knew that a cyst was a possibility.  I asked a few questions, and the tech told me enough for me to know that this wasn’t the case.

A few nurses came in to entertain Baby H while I had a very extensive scan.  The tech then asked me to go to the waiting room. I didn’t even know ultrasound clinics had waiting rooms!  After about 15 minutes she came back to tell me that the doctor would be giving me a call.

At this point, I knew that something was wrong, and it was more serious than I hoped. My mom has thyroid issues, so that seemed to be a strong possibility. The  urgent care doc said I needed to get into a specialist and he was going to make a call to an ENT clinic.  Within the hour, the clinic called me and they were going to get me in that day.

Three appointments in one day! I called my husband to let them know this was getting serious.  The ENT reviewed my ultrasound and talked about abnormal things in my thyroid and a growth with bloodflow. He wanted me to get a CT and a small biopsy so that they could learn more about the mass in my neck.

Just seven days later, my head & neck CT quickly became a head, neck & chest CT. I knew. I just knew, when they added the extra CT without telling me that something very serious was wrong.  The radiologist confirmed it.  Before he even performed the biopsy, he turned to me and said three words that turned my world upside down.

“You have cancer.”

 

 

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