Cancer Thoughts: Phase Two

Do I have cancer or not? The longest wait, ever, in the history of waiting.

It had been only a few days since I learned there was a nodule on my right lung, and you would think that would’ve been my primary concern, but it wasn’t. My high blood pressure was still high, and the symptoms were intense and annoying as hell: pressure in my head and chest, lightheadedness, brain fog, and a weird warmth over my chest and throat. The symptoms would come and go and worsen as my stress increased, which, of course, increased my blood pressure.

I am taking meds, why is this happening? Is this my life from now on?

During those days, I was constantly thinking that my anxiety was causing my blood pressure to rise. I posed to myself that maybe my body had come to a point that it could no longer handle the stress and anxiety I put it through over the last few years. And, for a few hours on a couple of days, I was genuinely convinced of this.

Of course, I am the reason. I ruin everything.

With that thought, the rabbit hole began to open, calling me near. With strength I didn’t know I possessed, I resisted and turned away. I was astonished. Who are you today? I asked out loud. And I replied, out loud, of course, I have no clue, but I’ll take it!

The day of my primary care doctor’s appointment finally arrived, and I was excited to learn more about my blood pressure issue, and of course, my nodule. I wasn’t able to see my actual doctor, as she couldn’t get me in for over a month, so I was assigned to another primary care provider within the practice. She was Rich’s primary, and he said he liked her.

After meeting and chatting with her, I agreed. She was quite lovely, asked great questions, and really listened to me. What she did not do, however, was give me a good explanation for my sudden high blood pressure. She did suggest:

• I could be genetic, and it was “just my time,” even though she agreed that the sudden onset was weird

• It could be caused by my nodule or “mass,” as she called it. I was not very thrilled to hear about this possibility, nor the term mass. I much preferred the word nodule.

• And, the most likely scenario: she doesn’t know. All the blood work done at the hospital was normal, so there were no clues to be found.

I had no answers for anything, but left the appointment with an updated prescription for high-blood pressure meds, a little bit less blood (more labs), and referrals for a lung biopsy, visit to a pulmonologist, a stress echocardiogram, and a mammogram.

Three days after my visit, my blood pressure symptoms were still intense and causing me great concern. I sent a message, along with three days of multiple BP readings, to my doctor and asked if she wanted to increase my dosage. She did, and within a few days, although my blood pressure was still in the 130s and 140s (still high), I started to feel somewhat better. Not normal, but better.

I now know that it can take 2-3 weeks or longer for blood pressure to stabilize after starting blood pressure meds. It would have been helpful if my doctor had conveyed that nugget of information to me.

As my blood pressure began to stabilize, the appointment for my lung biopsy was confirmed, and I started to feel nervous and worried. I was trying to wrap my head around the thought that I would know whether I had cancer in a week or so. I wanted to know, and I wanted to know sooner, but there was a part of me that wanted to remain blissfully unaware, just as I had been before my emergency room adventure. But such unawareness would most likely end in death, so I found a way to be okay with waiting and possessing the knowledge that I might possibly have cancer.

The days leading up to my biopsy were up and down emotionally for me. I had so much work to complete, and so little attention span. It was a struggle to keep my mind on my work. One day in particular was especially challenging. I craved my anxiety stick more than any other time since I quit it, was worried about my blood pressure, and, probably most troubling, concerned about my ability to work and make money if I indeed had cancer. I was a mess throughout the day.

At the end of the day, after working myself and my blood pressure up, I felt the need to write in my daily journal to try to make sense of what was going on with me emotionally. As I wrote, I realized what I had known intellectually for a very long time, but could never connect with emotionally: I have the power to change my thinking.

As I continued to write, I realized I no longer wanted to live in fear. And this time, it was not just a “yeah, that sounds good and I’ll get to it eventually,” but I knew in my bones I was going to make this change stick. I finally realized I knew, understood, comprehended, and, most importantly, believed that I possess the power to control my thoughts. I can accept my reality and not live in fear.

Fear is not mandatory.

Fear is not inevitable.

And fear will no longer run my life.

I don’t need to be afraid of things I cannot control. Since I cannot control them, why not accept the situation rather than be fearful of it?

Duh, it seemed so simple, but hit so hard.

I will deal with whatever comes my way, and all will be good.

Whatever is supposed to happen will happen.

Worrying about things that scare me does me no good whatsoever.

On that day, after years of choosing fear, the possibility of having cancer moved me into a place where I could (and would) choose peace and confidence in myself and my abilities.

A few days later, armed with my newfound peacefulness and lack of fear, I arrived at the hospital for my lung biopsy. Rich and I both knew this was the point where our “it may be cancer” journey was officially beginning.

A biopsy is a big deal. Many nurses, doctors, and other healthcare professionals are involved in the process. Much more than I imagined. It makes sense considering they were going to insert a very long needle into my lung and retrieve samples. I get that.

The biopsy was unremarkable except for physically feeling the long needle being inserted four times into my lung. Although they gave me some fentanyl to make me “comfortable and not remember the procedure,” I felt all of it and did not forget any of it.

Other than that, it was a good experience. 🙂

They told me that the results would be sent to my doctor in 3-5 days. More waiting. But I was waiting in peace, not fear, right? Yes, and no. I was maintaining my “I will deal with any outcome well” belief, but I’m not going to lie, I was anxious. Not scared, but anxious.

All my blood work was normal, I had no symptoms other than the pesky high blood pressure, and my tumor markers were normal, so if it was cancer, I had a good idea it was caught very early, and thus, I had a good chance. Those thoughts, the only things I knew to be true, kept me grounded in my peace and away from the fear.

Two days after the biopsy, we were on our way to PetSmart to take Bodi (our adorable puppy, whom we had adopted just five days before the event that started this journey) for his first bath when my phone rang. As soon as I saw it was my doctor, I realized that in seconds, I would know the results of my lung biopsy. In seconds, I would be told I did or did not have cancer.

Would I be in the 70% group or the far luckier 30% group?

And the cancer goes to…

Victoria

I knew I had cancer the moment my doctor said hello. I heard the downcast and hesitant tone in her voice.

Doctor: “I am so sorry, but your mass is cancerous. I know this is not the news you wanted to hear.”

Me: Well, I had a 30% chance, and it was not in the cards for me. I had a feeling it would turn out this way, and I am okay with it.

Doctor: “Oh, okay, you seem to be prepared and handling the news well.”

Me: Yes, I am ready for whatever comes next.

I wrote in my journal a few days later…

I am strangely okay with all this. Within an hour of receiving the news, I was in front of my computer on a Zoom call, acting no differently than my usual cheery, happy self. Now, two days later, still okay. I have not cried, fretted, or behaved strangely. Well, I did drink half a bottle of wine last night.

I know this diagnosis is a gift in so many ways. I don’t know what form the gift will ultimately take, but I have a few ideas:

• I will eat even better than I already do (which is pretty good, as I make 95 percent of what I eat), so that I can support my body in its healing process.

• I will drink less wine and learn to deal with my stress in more productive and affirming ways.

• I will eradicate from my life, including work, the people and projects that cause me stress, pain, worry, or frustration. This will help me focus on my well-being and reduce the amount of stress in my life, which has always been excessive.

• I will be much more grateful and much less fearful. I want to live a life of gratitude, knowledge, and understanding.

• I will engage in my art and writing more deeply, which in turn will create a more peaceful and fulfilling life.

• I will connect more deeply with Rich and be more present.

• I will connect more deeply with Dawson and be more present, allowing me to be there for him when he needs me.

Through years of self-improvement, focusing on the positive, and maintaining a “can-do” attitude, I have arrived at this point, where I am ready to face whatever comes my way. I must say, I am proud of myself for that. Very proud.

I have lung cancer. I accept this as my new reality and will move forward with hope, not fear.

I have an appointment with the oncologist in about a week. I will then learn if the cancer has spread and which stage I am in.

I am so hoping for “no, it hasn’t spread, and you are in stage one,” but will accept any outcome.

Thanks for reading and joining me on this adventure.