Five Years Ago Today...

Five years ago, I got a phone call at 6:30 am. I was getting ready for work. When I answered, it was my midwife, Margie. She said, “Honey, you need to go for a sonogram as soon as you can get there – they are waiting for you. Your test results came back and there’s something wrong. I think you’re still pregnant.”

I had been to see her two days prior – I thought I had recently had a miscarriage, and she wanted to do some blood work to make sure my hormone levels were back to normal. I remember how clear the sky was that day – so blue, so sunny, and it was about 75 degrees. I remember thinking, “I feel SO good. I feel healthy. I feel like myself again.” After having Anna Claire, I had struggled with postpartum depression and it took me a long time before I recovered from the physical exhaustion and aching that often accompanies it.

I quickly got Anna Claire out of her crib, and left to drive to the sonogram, with her still in her pajamas. I called Gary, told him to turn around and meet me at the clinic. We met out there, and he entertained Anna Claire while I had my sonogram. Unlike other times I’d had sonograms, the sonographer’s face was very serious. I remember her name was Gloria. She kept going over the same place again and again, and finally put the wand down and got up. She picked up the phone on the wall and began talking in hushed tones. I couldn’t figure out what she was saying, but I knew it was not good. Another doctor came in and performed another sonogram, her face equally grim. The phone rang – it was my midwife. The doctor spoke to her in hushed tones and then turned to me. “You can get up now. You need to go straight to the hospital. Immediately. Go to Margie’s office and she’ll tell you what’s going on.”

Gloria came back in the room, looked at me, then came over and gave me a big hug. When she pulled back, she was crying. “You’re going to be just fine. I’ll be praying for you, honey.” I remember being a little bewildered by that interaction.

Gary and I quickly dropped Anna Claire off at a friend’s house who had twins of her own the same age, so we knew Anna Claire would be well-cared for and entertained. We arrived in Margie’s office and Margie told me that I probably had a tubal pregnancy that was in danger of rupturing. “They’re waiting for you down in surgery,” she said. “Go right down.”

It was surreal. We were quickly making phone calls to let them know what was going on. I probably called some people that day that I didn’t need to, and forgot others who were important. I remember feeling like I was having an out-of-body experience. I was totally oblivious to how bad it was, yet I think I knew deep down that something was terribly wrong. They quickly prepped me for surgery, and when I came out of the anesthesia a couple of hours later, Gary was there.

“Was it a tubal pregnancy?” I asked groggily. “No,” he said. Looking grim, he responded, “It was a tumor.” I thought, “OK, no problem. I’ve had several benign tumors” - which included a benign ovarian tumor I’d had removed 3 years prior when we began dating. I went back to sleep.

Later, I stirred again, vaguely aware of two female voices. “She’s always been the dramatic one in the family. She always wanted all of the attention,” one of them was saying. Once I could shake the grogginess enough to open my eyes, I looked and saw two of my closest friends talking with a nurse. They kept telling her how different each of us was and how it was amazing we all came out of the same family. “Huh?” I thought. I seriously thought I was still sleeping. It turned out that C. and D. had convinced the nurses that they were my sisters, which basically got them a free pass to come back and see me in the recovery room. Mind you, these girls did nothing but continue to tell tall tales to the nurses to further convince them how three women could be so different.

You have to know that none of us look ANYTHING alike. Not even remotely. We could not be more different looking. And yet the nurses bought the story – hook, line and sinker. It was hilarious. And I was apparently the dramatic one who always needed the attention, which is why I’d taken it upon myself to grow a tumor. Go figure! We still giggle about that one.

It turned out I was never pregnant. And I never had a miscarriage, or a tubal pregnancy. What I had was an ovarian tumor that had been growing for approximately 4-6 weeks, and it contained four different types of cancer cells. Because it was so unusual, it would be October 8th – almost 4 weeks – before I had a definitive diagnosis. And I then began a journey on which I never expected to be a traveler…cancer patient.

I am now strong. I’m healthy. I survived. Many of my friends did not. It wasn’t without many scary, sad, and dark moments. But God has brought me full circle. And now one of my passions is to help other women on this same journey. It’s enormously gratifying and it nurtures my spirit.

To God be the glory – great things He has done in the last five years.