The exception: My life.

My family has always said that we are the one’s that people say, “I’ve never seen that before”. Not for good reasons typically. I’m living proof.

To shorten it up:

By 17-18, starting in my senior year of high school and went on into my freshman year of college, I had severe pain on my left hand side. I went to see endless amount of doctors. No one could diagnose anything. I received an ultrasound and the doctor said it is a cyst. She then put me on birth control. Not that I needed that anyways. But I took it hoping to help. It didn’t. Pain got worse and I was throwing up on occasion. One day specifically, I couldn’t eat anything and was running to the bathroom any time I moved probably about every 10-15 minutes. Too bad the bathroom was on the next floor. I gave up near the end and was throwing up blood into a towel. I had nothing left. I “slept” in a fetal position on the couch and waited for either my brother or sister to wake up and take me to the hospital. My sister took me and I was diagnosed with a kidney infection.

It took many months after to see a specialist and finally I was diagnosed accurately. I had a decent size kidney stone that required surgery, lithotripsy. I needed it twice done to break up the stone. And was supposed to monitor it after to see what may have caused it. Unfortunately, I failed to do so and I didn’t have another case for many years after until my first pregnancy at age 27. I know that pain very well. This time, it didn’t require surgery.

By age 24, I found to be gaining weight, throwing up and swollen. Eventually by my boyfriend’s pleas I went to see a doctor, even though we couldn’t pay for it at the time. I found a doctor that could take me, a woman’s clinic. My mistake. I had an internal ultrasound done with a big screen monitor to see. I saw nothing. The doctor comes in and looks puzzled. As the nurse moved it, he said, “Yes, I see the heartbeat.” Congratulated us and gave my boyfriend and I light up pens. Very nice pens. Bad doctor. Costing us over $400.

Something still didn’t seem right. I ended up in the hospital. I gave a urine sample, which came back with a positive for pregnancy and I received another internal ultrasound. After a while, I asked if everything okay. She looked at me and said “I can’t find the baby.” My heart sank. I got more scans done and they found a cluster of grape-like objects, meaning a molar pregnancy. They said normally it’s benign and rarely cancerous. They admitted me right then and there to have a D&C the next morning. The molar pregnancy was benign.

I went on to be monitored by my doctor until my HCG levels went back down to 0. But at the time I was not on a health plan or employed. So money was tighter. My numbers went low, but never saw them at 0. They may have gone back to normal. Who knows. I just kept bleeding, which was normal. I was passing these grape-like objects on occasion. Sometimes as big as a squid (sorry to sound graphic). The bleeding didn’t seem to ever want to end. During the time I was hired at a big retail store. My manager knew and was understanding with my situation. Thankfully. But the day came where it finally stopped bleeding I thought I was healed. Oh was I wrong.

By age 25 My boyfriend proposed to me! Within a month I was experiencing similar problems as the last time. I took a test, it came back positive. I scheduled a doctors appointment right away. It was deja vu all over again. I had an ultrasound and they couldn’t find the baby. I wanted to cry. I knew what was coming. The doctor came in, looked at it and actually knew what it was, molar pregnancy (round 2). She told me to go right away to the hospital. I did. The hospital wouldn’t do another D&C because of where it was located. They referred me to a specialist. My boyfriend and I saw him. I remember sitting on the medical “bed” and he took one look and said it’s cancer. I broke down. I wasn’t expecting to hear that, especially with the visit so short. Or my age. I lost it. I felt broken. But I followed the doctors instructions. I went back to the hospital to get my port surgically placed. It was official, I had choriocarcinoma Stage III. It already spread to other places, like my lungs. Next step was to my brain.

It went on from there. Chemo treatments started and by week 4, my hair was falling out. My boyfriend took me to a nice wig shop that specialized in cancer patients. They were very understanding. But at the time I wore a hat, still had hair, but it was getting very thin. I took off my hat reluctantly to try a wig on. I wanted to cry seeing how I looked without my hat. But I tried to hold. The wig was on and my boyfriend didn’t care about the price, but I did. I found a cheaper, but still nice wig and he bought it right then and there. But seriously, wig are hot. Very hot. And sometimes itchy. Small price to pay. I wore that wig for a while. My boyfriend’s family friend’s mother also underwent chemo and thinned out her hair. She already finished and gave me her wigs to use. It was one of the sweetest times. I used one wig up until the end, it looked the most like my hair. Not long after, I decided to shave my head. Why prolong the inevitable?

I had chemo treatments for 4 months down in Miami, until my insurance my family kept me on wouldn’t allow me to continue there. I was forced to go to Orlando. Worst hospital ever. I would drive the morning of treatment from Miami to Orlando and once treatment was over, usually two days, I would drive back down. I do not codon what I did. But I knew what I had to do. That hospital would have me on the schedule and tell me there were no beds available. I waited one day in my car in the parking lot for 7 hours until something was available. They knew it and didn’t care. One my one day treatments, I was in a chair for 9 hours. First in, last to leave. The nurses would even forget about me. My doctor put me on stronger chemo and found out that it may cause hearing loss. He knew I was born deaf in my right ear and never mentioned the side affects.

My “wonderful” doctor kept pushing a hysterectomy because it was the easiest and fastest. He had horrible bedside manners. I’m sorry, but if I’m laughing and trying to keep the mood light, DO NOT make me feel bad for that. I was the one with cancer, not HIM. I’ll never forget my last visit with him. Up until then, I knew the routine of these checkups, but this one was different. There was a nurse off to the side and he was checking my stomach. But this time he did things completely different. He stuck his finger in a different area, lower, and I was shocked and looked at him to see him smiling. I will never forget that creepy smile of his. He never addressed what he did, nor gave me a heads up or why. I got out of there as fast as I could. I never wanted to see him or that smile again. He did give me one good news, I was officially in remission, but was still on the schedule for one last 9 hour treatment. I never went.

At age 27 my fiance and I got married. I was told by every doctor, I would never bear children. He still wanted to marry me, even knowing he wanted children and I wouldn’t be able to give that to him. Well mind over body and *POOF*, I found myself pregnant. Here we go ago… I went to a doctor and finally I got the news I have been dreaming of: they see a baby! But because I had a molar pregnancy, I was on high risk. I saw doctors regularly and a beautiful baby girl was born. She’s my miracle.

Age 30, I missed my period. I wish it would be a more joyous experience, but I always have that bad thought in the back of my mind. I saw the doctor again. This time, he wasn’t saying anything. My heart started racing expecting the horrible news. But he was able to find our newest bundle of joy!

It’s been a real roller coaster. I have a lot to add to my life resume. The thing I wish I did was give back more to the cancer community. So I decided to at least do one thing for now. I haven’t cut or colored my hair since remission, it’s been 3 years. I may wait a little while longer, but this year or on my remission date next year, I will donate my hair. I know firsthand what that was like, and having a wig does help. Making someone feel a little more normal in a horrible situation, would mean everything to me.

Unfortunately for me cancer took one thing from me. It took my memory. It’s hard for me to remember much. I don’t feel like the same person as before. Yes, I’m stronger, but I know my memory has been wiped for the most part. I build new memories, that is the only thing I can do. Well, that, and take photos. Lots of photos!