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How Else Do You Explain It?

Yet another blog post opens with an apology for the long delay since my last writing.  I suppose I should give up the notion of ever being a paid writer!  I have this silly pipe dream of someone somewhere…some big conglomeration of social media fabulousness…happening by chance upon this blog or my earlier blog and thinking my wit and bloviations worthy of a paid bloggership.  Kiss the nine-to-five goodbye and stay home in my PJs while my adoring e-public waits with baited breath for my next (very well) paid blog post.  Alas, while a wonderful dream, I don’t think that this will ever happen to me.  If, however, you are someone of social media fabulousness who does indeed find my writing witty and wonderful, yes, I’ll accept your six-figure salary to write for your site and will gladly leave behind the desk and the drama and the everydays of office living.  Have your people call my people.  We’ll do lunch.

All joking aside, lots has happened since we last spoke.  As you know, my last D&C went very, very well.  We found out that even though I was taking (by sheer accident) half the recommended dose of Megace, my atypical complex endometrial hyperplasia was “upgraded,” if you will, to atypical simple endometrial hyperplasia.  Still pre-cancerous, but now two steps away from uterine cancer and not one.  My doctor wanted me to go and see my oncologist again for her take on the news, and to see if she thought we should go forth with the hysterectomy, or if one more round of medication was worth a fighting chance.  Everyone in my life, to include family and friends and colleagues, all knew that I wanted one more shot at the meds.  Look at how far I’d come.  Even in taking a smaller dose than recommended (still can’t believe I did that…note to self, that label on the medicine bottle is there for a reason), I still got better.  My plan of attack today was simple…convince my amazing oncologist to give me six more months on the meds (at the full dose this time!), with a repeat D&C in February.  My bargaining chip?  If I’m still sick in February, you can have my uterus and cervix.  I won’t fight you.  I went in to today’s appointment with so many emotions, not having any way of knowing just how wonderful the news would be…

After being weighed and processed in, my oncologist laughed her way in to my room with a comment about how I am her fastest shrinking patient.  I guess having lost over 50 pounds since seeing her last might have something to do with that!  She did a brief exam, and told me that since my weight loss, my organs were easier to both feel and see.  Everything looks great.  As we were finishing the exam, she said something akin to, “I’m very _____ by the results of your last D&C.”  I tried so hard to remember that word, but right now, it’s just not comin’ to me.  When I got dressed and met her in her office, she and I had another epically fabulous conversation.  (Side note:  is it me, or is it absolutely wonderful when your doctor is someone who is easy to talk to?  Relatively certain it’d break medical ethics rules, but she’s someone I’d love to have drinks with sometime.  So easy to talk to.)  Where was I…?  Office conversation.  She was over the moon for me.  For my weight loss.  For having given up soda.  For having done so well on the medication, even at half the dose.  She bought off on my “six months of more meds” idea hook, line, and sinker.  She was so incredibly positive and excited about my progress.  I laughed and asked her what her word was…what did she say in the exam room?  That she was “encouraged” my the results of my last D&C?  She snickered and laughed and said, “No, my word was much stronger than ‘encouraged!”  I told her I’d come in to this appointment armed with my “six months” idea and dreading “the H word” in the worst possible way.  She smiled and shook her head and said, “Hysterectomy?  Absolutely not.  Not right now.”  And then she said something that took my breath away.  She said, and I quote, “Jennifer, this may even resolve itself.”  I’d read that hyperplasia does, on occasion, go away with medication, but my doctor had previously told me that she didn’t think that was possible in my case.  I was so over the moon today…so happy.  Happy.  Wow.  That’s an emotion I’d not felt to date about this situation.  You’ve read this blog.  You know the evolution of my feelings.  Fear, guilt, sadness, shame, worry, regret, and eventually. a peace of sorts.  But never happy.  Today, I was happy.  For the first time in a very long time, I didn’t self-identify as “sick.”  Instead, I thought of myself as “healing” and “on the mend.”  I know I am not out of the woods yet, but I’m a heck of a lot closer.

I am overwhelmingly blessed to be surrounded at my left and at my right by wonderful, beautiful people who love me and who care for me.  I’ve said it time after time…that I feel so incredibly lucky to have so many prayers and hugs and so much good energy and positivity around me all the time.  I’ve taken this journey in a very public manner, and it’s paid off beautifully.  Yesterday and today both, the hugs and the love and the prayers and the good wishes were all around me.  And look what happened.  I’m better, and I blame all of you.  How many times have I written here or said aloud that there is nothing bigger than love?  No disease.  No condition.  No pain.  No hurt.  Nothing is bigger than love.  My hyperplasia doesn’t have a chance against me because of all of you.  How else do you explain me getting better, especially in light of the fact that I took a lower dose of the medication than was prescribed for me?  It’s love.  You’ve given it from the start and it’s worked.  Some people would rather die than share this level of intimacy with the whole world.  I didn’t think twice about it, and that decision has paid off in spades.  Again and for the zillionth time, thank you.  The words seem wholly inadequate to illustrate the gratefulness I feel.  I am so blessed to have all of you in my life.  Bring it, cancer.  My people are bigger and stronger than you are, even if I’m not.  Even on those days when I feel most afraid, they’re right there, being positive and believing and praying.  You don’t have a fighting chance against them.

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