This last week has been a blur. A numbing experience. The wait unbearable. Had cancer spread? What procedure? Children? Recovery length? Pain? Risk? So many questions, so much uncertainty, loads of fear, tough decisions ahead...
(Or are they tough decisions?)
Yesterday I walked through the doors of Cedars-Sinai, a world-renowned hospital sharing space with the glitz and glamour of Beverly Hills. Medical forms, questionnaires, and a white plastic ID band snapped to my wrist rushed my reality to the forefront.
I have cancer.
The journey has begun.
From the specialist we heard our options, we heard his opinion, we heard what to expect, we heard positivity, we heard "there are no signs of cancer anywhere else." And as the breath that we had been holding for days slowly released, my mind automatically moved onto the next.
Do I choose to have a full hysterectomy? Do I choose, for my long-lasting health, to take away the possibility of carrying my own child? If, in fact, the cancer is contained in a small portion of my cervix, it alone can be removed. This leaves me with a 30% chance of pregnancy. It will be difficult. It will be risky. It may come with heartache and frustration. It's not a guarantee.
I'm at a standstill. I need more time. It will take more research, more education, more soul searching and attention.
I know motherhood is in my future, I just don't know how it looks...how it comes to be.