Cancer. That word scares the hell out of most people — especially those who’ve watched loved ones battle such an evil, unyielding force. The mere mention of the word has always made me shiver. But yesterday one of my biggest fears were realized. Yesterday I found out that I have cancer too.

I’d gone to an Urgent care facility Monday morning with severe stomach pains and diarrhea. Since Friday night, my digestive system was forcefully pushing everything I ate or drank out of my body. I could hardly walk from the stomach pains. I felt weak. But still, when I’d hobbled into the Urgent care facility, it was with embarrassment. I assumed they’d check me out only to roll their eyes and tell me I had gas. I figured they’d prescribe some industrial strength Gas-X product then send me home. I assumed I’d go to bed, wake up the next day and get on with life. I assumed that today, I’d be happily back to doing all of the mundane chores I do each day that keeps our home running smoothly.

But I was wrong. The doctor at the Urgent Care sent me to the ER.

After several unsuccessful IV attempts (because I was really, really dehydrated) my arms and hands were sore. A nurse was finally able to eek out a bit of blood to test. A saline IV was started. I was given Morphine, Zofran and something to relax me. 

Then they took me for a cat scan. They found something troubling. They discussed it with me. They told me I needed another cat scan. They asked me if they could call any friends or family for me. I called my parents and brother, asking them to come up. By the time my parents arrived, the doctor had stopped by to tell my husband and me the news. 

I have cancer. I still can’t believe I just typed that sentence. I have cancer. The words, despite the machines connected to me, despite knowing I’m now in the oncology ward, despite the long and chaotic succession of nurses and doctors I’ve seen, just don’t seem real. 

They aren’t sure if its Colon cancer or lymphoma. I cried, my parents cried, and my husband cried as he started making arrangements for my son to spend the night at a friend’s house. He stumbled through his words as he tried to tell my dear friend Kathy what was going on. It was the third time I’ve ever seen him cry - the first and second times being when he learned about the death of his grandmother and cousin Amanda.

My brother and sister-in-law came by a bit later. Everyone kept reassuring me, even the doctors, that my odds of survival are good. They kept telling me I’m a “fighter” and I’ll get through this. I never considered myself a fighter. But maybe that’s the lesson I need to learn from this experience?

So here I am. I have my own room, a cup of ice chips at my side, a bag if saline to keep my hydrated, and a bit of morphine for when the pain gets bad.

I don’t know what to say…. I am still in shock. At some point today, the doctors will do a little exploring to find out what cancer I have. While they think its an fast-growing tumor, hey are hopeful that it will be the kind that hasn’t spread. They are hopeful we’ve found it fast enough. I just want to get it over with because I’m starting to get kind of hungry…

If I don’t give updates, I’m assuming one of my dear friends will be doing so.

But the upside is that when you do see me? I’ll definitely be leaner. ;-)