Lisa H.

My story starts off like this.. I was 29 years old single mother with no history of cancer in my family.
Life has a way of changing, in the blink of any eye. Or in my case it changed with a cervical biopsy.
Imagine sitting at your desk on a Friday afternoon. Just 8 days until Christmas, wondering if you have all your kids presents bought, wrapped and ready for Santa to deliver.
Now imagine the phone rings and a nurse from your physicians office is on the other end. She tells you the doctor wants to see you after hours....

For what? I wanted to know because by this time I was so tired of pap smears and biopsies every 6 months (which was what I did for 6 years). I was not making a special trip to the office for her to tell me she didn't know what was wrong with me and schedule me for yet another pap smear. I just wasn't in the mood for that conversation. I was to the point I was feeling like 'find out what's wrong with me or leave me alone'. I was tired of being examined, tired of being tested and just wanted stop going to my gynocologist all together.

"To discuss treatment options", she said. Again I asked "for what"?

She said it best I speak with the doctor about that. Not what I wanted to hear. It was
December 17, 1999. It was very cold and snowy in Northern Michigan. The last thing I wanted to do was to leave work early, drive 30 miles to get my kids off the bus and then drive another 30 miles back to her office. But, that is just what I did.
 
 
I got home a bit before the boys got off the bus but just in time for a phone call. It was my sister Lori. She was just calling to say 'hi' but could hear the stress and fear in my voice. I told her I had gotten a call from my doctor and she wanted me to come in that evening to discuss a treatment plan. Lori asked me about the plan and what it was for. I told her I was sure it wasn't good news, that I was probably going to be told I was dying and I would call her later. I picked up the boys and we were on our way.

As my boys, then 6 and 9, played in the waiting room I was escorted back to an exam room where I waited. Impatient and irritated because I was again in the office waiting for her to tell me my tests came back abnormal but she didn't know why. Again I would schedule an appointment this time probalby for 3 months down the road.

After waiting for what seemed like an hour she came into the room. I think I even rolled my eyes when she apologized for keeping we waiting.Honestly the next thing I remember is her handing me a piece of paper with an appointment date and time on it. She told me Dr. Michelin was an oncologist. I was so confused. I asked her why I needed this appointment and she looked at me and said 'Lisa, you have cancer and you need to see this oncologist'. She told me he was new to the area but was a great doctor, she said Traverse City was lucky to have him. I took the piece of paper and walked out of her office.

I didn't want to frighten my boys so we just put our jackets on and went home. Home just like every other night. We had dinner, they got their baths and then it was time for a bit of television and then off to bed for them.
As soon as I closed their bedroom door I lost it. I cried like I never had before. I was angry at myself for not having a will. I wondered how much time I had to live and what I would do with that time. I got pissed because I was not going to see my kids graduate from high school or get married, and though I didn't want to be a grandmother I was mad that I would never be one.

It was then time for me to make some phone calls. First to my sister. After telling her I was going to die, she ask me questions about the diagnosis. I didn't have any answers but she continued to ask me questions. Then she told me I had to call my mother. I told her no, I was not going to call her. My mother lived 1500 miles away and had just been to visit me 6 months earlier after my back surgery. The last thing I wanted to do was to upset my mother again. Be a burden. Mary, my sister, said I could call mom... or she would. I made the call to my mother and my other sister.
I didn't sleep much that night.
 
The next after dinner, I told my boys. My oldest looked at me and asked 'who is going to take care of us when you die'? My heart dropped and my eyes filled with tears but I managed half a smile and told them I was not going to die and that our small family would be fine.
Within a week, two of my sisters were packing me up into the car and we were heading to the oncologists office. I was in good spirits because I knew once we saw the doctor he would realize he was looking at someone else's results and we'd be on our way home with no harm done.
As my sisters sat there with their little notebooks ready to take notes, I was sitting on the exam table just swinging my legs, telling jokes without a care in the world. I think they actually got a little upset with me because I was not taking things seriously. Within the next 60 mintues I would be taking a lot of things seriously and never again take anything for granted.
By the time the tumor was found it was too large to remove surgically so my treatment was to be six weeks of chemotherapy and radiation with some 'radical' radiation at the end of the 6 weeks. Piece of cake, right?
 
I did believe things would be fine until the next week when I arrived at the Bederman Radiation Treatment Center. I must have stood in front of the building for 10 mintues before going in. This was it. I had to admit to myself that I was a cancer patient. I have cancer! I went into that office with tears in my eyes and fear in my heart.
 
Week one of chemo was fine, I went alone and didn't get sick. Week two my sister Mary came with me. She was great. Chemo took 5 hours so it was nice having her there with me. Good thing she came with me cause week two of chemo was not as 'nice' as week one. The poison was starting to take it's toll on my body.
 
By week three I had to take some time off work and Lori not only took me to chemo and radiation but had to take care of my kids because I was weak and too tired to take care of them myself. She fed my kids and then came to the couch to tend to me. I was shivering so bad that she laid with me just to try to warm me up. She made a couple of mad dashes to the bathroom with me that night too.
There is no worse feeling in the world than being too sick and weak to take care of your own children. They already thought I was going to die so having to send them with family members off and on during treatment made it even harder to reassure them that I was going to be fine.
By the 4th week of chemo my veins and my bowels were not cooperating, IV went in the back of the hand and the rest room was becoming my best friend. Everything I ate came right back out. Life at this point really sucked! Really sucked!!
 
Week 5 my blood counts were too low so I could not get my chemo treatment. I was kinda happy about that but had to go back a couple days later to have that treatment.
The sixth week.. the final week.. blood counts were too low again. This time Dr. Michelin said I would be fine without that last treatment. I was so excited. But the end of chemo meant the beginning of the 'radical' radiation.This meant 3 days in the hospital lying flat on my back (with was not wonderful because I had back surgery 8 months earlier) with some kind of special paddle surgically place on what was left of the tumor. Talk about suck!!!! The radiation was so intense that my kids could not come see me and anyone who did come was only allowed to be in the room 30 minutes per 24 hours. And I swear the door to that hospital room was a foot thick. That was some powerful raidation. I was so bored, one can only watch so much television right? My blood counts bombed again but this time I ended up having a transfusion. That is very scary.
 
After 3 days I went home for a week and then back to the hospital for round two of the radical radiation. Another three days flat on my back and yet another blood transfusion. The only thing that kept me going was knowing that this was it. No more chemo or radiation. I was done.
I had to see my oncologist a week after and aside from some radiation burns things were looking good. I saw him every 2 weeks, then every month, 3 months, 6 months and then yearly for 5 years before he 'released' me to see my ob/gyn again.
 
I am lucky. Lucky that my treatment was only 6 weeks long. Lucky I did not have to have a hysterectomy and lucky to be alive. I still get scared every May when I go in for my pap smear, still wonder if the cancer will come back and if it does how bad will it be.
 
But for now I am a stage 2B cervical cancer survivor.
 
Lots of women had it worse than I did and many lost their lives to this terrible disease.
Cancer changed my life. It cost me friendships, it cost me time away from my family. It took away my dignity and was such an invasion on my personal being and privacy. It is a demoralizing, dehumanizing and invasive disease and we need to find a cure.