To describe my life before cancer is difficult, it was nondescript and genuinely not memorable, if that is possible. Sometimes I think it was like walking through a haze of what was expected and never quite doing the things I wanted to do. Figuring that I had my whole life ahead of me and that I’d get around to it. Yes, I was a mom, a wife, and a friend, but I had no idea who I was and I was certainly no friend to myself. My self worth wasn’t great, I’d let go of just about every dream I had ever had and had no one to blame, but myself… Ironically, it took cancer to crash into my life, to shake my core, and blast the fog away.
I had known that there was mass and I hate to call it a mass, but since that is what it was, I will, for arguments sake. A bigger girl at the time and figured it was just a fatty deposit. Hey, it sounded good and kept things simple. It had been on my leg, behind my knee for at least two years that I had known and since it had never caused pain, figured that it was nothing. Looking back, there were a number of “little” things that I should have figured as a sign of a problem, but if I’m anything, I’m the queen of denial. It’s a skill and I’ve reached a professional level.
Finally, figuring that I had better get my weight in check, I started walking and training for running a race in the future. I went from 225 to 155 and was feeling incredible, but the mass on my leg was then much more noticeable. My right knee area was at least three inches larger than my left and I began to get scared. You know that eerie feeling of dread that something is really wrong and it’s not going to be able to be swept under the rug? Yeah, that’s the one. I had it and I had it bad. Sleep wasn’t coming easily and the panic was beginning to set in.
When I went to the doctor, it verified that something was seriously amiss. Not in the words that were being said, but by the look on the doctor’s face. I adore my doctor, but he is obvious when something is awry. The MRI was scheduled in about a week and the ride was about to begin…
First lesson learned… Never and I mean NEVER schedule a test on a Friday the 13th! I’m not superstitious, but I’m not stupid, either and will never do that again. Sometimes we think that we’ve got it together and know what the future holds, but life can throw you a curve that you never saw coming and you must be ready to swing like you’re going to knock it out of the park… Your life may depend on it.
The MRI went fairly well and it really is like lying in a trashcan and having someone beat on the outside. They really need to make the music where it can be louder than the pounding. Afterwards, I spent the rest of the afternoon hounding my poor doctor for results. I badgered the poor man until he gave in and told me on the phone that it was cancer. Looking back, I feel terrible for pressuring him so much, but I wanted to know. Okay, I’m lying, I didn’t “want” to know it was cancer, but so it was and the adventure began.
It’s called Liposarcoma and a rare form of fatty cancer. It sounds like something that you would pay to have done, not something that you would be diagnosed with and nothing could have ever prepared me for the months to come. The mass was huge and people were measuring it in inches, instead of centimeters (approx. 6” by 4” and wrapping around the side of my knee, from the back). I was sent to a Sarcoma specialist in Cincinnati that was beyond incredible. After spending three days thinking that I would likely lose my leg and possibly have to go through chemo, with one look at the x-rays he said that he didn’t see a reason to think that I would lose my leg and that chemo wouldn’t be necessary either. For the first time, I had hope and was immensely grateful.
The light was turned on and I realized that life doesn’t go on forever and that I wasn’t immortal. Spending most of my life putting off until tomorrow, the things I should have already been doing today. I was suddenly running scared and introduced to anxiety attacks and depression. I had hoped to be able to run my first 5k race that coming fall and that goal was looking unattainable, under the best of circumstances. To fight the depression, I continued training as much as possible, through treatment. It became what pushed me forward and gave me a reason to care whether I survived or not. Needing to know that tomorrow would be worth something and to work towards was imperative, life had urgency.
Treatment consisted of six weeks of radiation (which was a piece of cake), followed by two surgeries (one to remove the tumor and the other to take care of an abscess), two weeks of IV antibiotics to treat some serious infections from me trying to avoid the second surgery (which, by the way was a bad idea), and eight weeks of physical therapy to be able to walk like a human and no longer like a duck. When I wasn’t on crutches or in a brace, I was on the treadmill. It may have not been pretty, but walking and running continued. The race dream created a reason to push through the pain and fight to be as normal as I was going to be. When I was too weak or unable to walk, I was online researching, becoming a sponge, and taking in everything. Studying my disease, physical therapy, racing, business, writing and whatever else came to mind, becoming a continuous student.
It took me six months longer than I had hoped, but in May of the following year and just eleven months from my diagnosis, but I ran and finished my first ever 5K race. I didn’t officially win the race, but in finishing I won the race of my life and couldn’t feel more joy, if I had finished first. Cancer was the race of my life, it changed me forever, but I won… I won!!!
Now I run three to four miles a day, have developed a growing business, and have already ran three different 5K races, aiming towards a 10K. These goals continue to grow and evolve, planning to move on to writing a book and well… I’m thinking of trying something a little faster than running… Maybe four wheels and racing school, how cool would that be? Life is short, it is NOW and we must experience it.
