by Band Back Together | Oct 6, 2010 | Breast Cancer, Cancer and Neoplasia, Chronic Illness, Coping With Cancer, How To Help A Friend With Chronic Illness |
I met her in the Fall of 1999. I hadn’t set eyes on her until I showed up with my moving van in the Southie alleyway. The house where we would become roommates. A mutual friend put us in touch as I needed a place to stay and she needed a help on the rent.
We didn’t actually live well together. Sure, we were cordial and hung out a bit, but she wasn’t more than a roommate. I’m kind of that way with girls, to be honest. It takes me a long time to let someone “in.”
The next year I got engaged and my then fiance lived just 8 blocks away, so I moved out. This is when she and I became close friends. We exercised together, commuted to work together, met for happy hours, had sleepovers. She worked her way “in” and we’ve never looked back.
She is my son’s Godmother. She is my husband’s confidante in all things, “WTF is up with my wife?” She is my girl. She holds my secrets and my heart.
And she is sick.
Yesterday, my girl found out her biopsy results. She has cancer. The Big C. It’s in her breast and her lymph nodes. This is all she knows. She’s scheduled to see the oncologist tomorrow and on Saturday, Team A will get together with her for her self proclaimed “pity-party.” We’re going to figure out where to go from here.
I’m trying very very hard to not make this about me. But I’m scared. And I’m pissed. I’m fucking irate. I’ve cried a lot of tears and I’m sure more will be shed.
But on Saturday and every day that I’m with her, I will be her strength, no matter what it takes. Hell, if it comes to it, and she’s in throes of chemo and she loses her hair, I’ll shave my head with her. I’m in. I’m so in and will fight with her.
She’s my girl.
And she’s sick.
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originally written on thursday, 9/23.
An update. Initially, A’s MRI and CT scans showed that she had no more cancer. She was due to have her lumpectomy tomorrow, her 37th birthday. Instead, she had another biopsy on Wednesday last week and found out the cancer is spreading. So instead of the lumpectomy, she’s going for the double mastectomy. Losing both ladies. In16 days. And chemo right after. Fucking sucks, to be honest. I’m pissed off all over again. Her one positive note – she said “at least I’ll never again have breast cancer.” How’s that for a positive spin. She’s goddamn amazing.
by Band Back Together | Sep 6, 2010 | Anger, Chronic Illness, How To Help A Friend With Chronic Illness, Infertility, Invisible Illness |
Before I start, this is not your typical “I can’t have a baby post.” I am not the face of infertility, at least not as far as I know. I’ve never lost a baby. I’ve never even tried to get pregnant.
However, I do have Spondylolisthesis & Spondylosis which, in shorthand, means my vertebra on L4, L5, and S1 have less space between them than they should and have slipped forward.
This causes the muscles in my mid and lower back to try and compensate for what my spine can’t do, which leaves me in near-constant pain. I currently take medications for the joint inflammation and the pain. If I were to get pregnant, I’d have to stop taking the pain pills in the last trimester, be on bedrest for at least that long, and have to choose between breastfeeding and pain pills.
I’ve trolled through every forum related to my condition and pregnancy. It seems most women have experienced horrific pain during pregnancy that, in some cases, never went away. Many say that though their children are worth it, getting pregnant was the worst mistake they’ve in regards to their back problem. Some doctors advise having surgery to fuse the slipped vertebra together, a surgery with a six month recovery time, before attempting a pregnancy.
Even if I could quit work and devote myself entirely to a pregnancy, I worry the pain will make it impossible for me to care for a child. As it is, it takes everything I have just to get up the subway steps coming home from work. If I have to stand for the whole forty minutes on the train, I’m crying by the time I get home.
When I consider how many times a day a baby needs to be picked up, how heavy a car seat is, and how much energy it takes to keep up with a toddler, I know it’s totally out of my physical capacity. Plus, both Spondylolisthesis and Spondylosis are hereditary and I’d never want to pass this kind of suffering on to my child.
I know there’s always adoption or surrogacy, but they’re just not for me.
Selfish as it may be, I want the experience of carrying and delivering our child. I’ve spent a lot of years telling myself I didn’t want kids, but now that I’m with an amazing man, the tick-tocks of the clock are getting louder and I think I may want them…and the idea that I probably don’t have the option is crushing. When I see pregnant women or little girls with My Love’s shiny black hair, I’m hit with a wall of sadness and longing. Something inside tells me that’ll never be me.
So The Band, what do I do?
How can I accept that pregnancy and raising a child aren’t things I’m physically capable of doing?
