Cervical Cancer Awareness Month

January is Cervical Cancer Awareness Month and this isn’t a post to join in with the rest of the world showing you all that I’m a part of the bandwagon of the internet with t-shirts and ribbons and empty facebook shares. This post is about real pain, struggle, and wins.

The week of my wedding in September 2018, my mom was having some health issues we learned were blood clots in her leg and both lungs. She went through treatment, but she didn’t get better. It started a long process of doctor appointments and disappointing, inconclusive test results. My mom lives in a rural town in southwest Oklahoma where it’s a task to find quality care. Finally, in 2019, she got a referral to a doctor in another town. This doctor did not give a diagnosis, she was too shaken to even tell my mom what she had noted and referred her to Oklahoma City with no explanation of what was going on but we all knew it was not good. In May 2019 I went with my mom to the OU Stephenson Cancer Center and we sat in the waiting room for gynecological oncology, still confused as to why we were there. We were lead to a dim-lit small room with a round table with a box of Kleenex sitting right in the center of the table. We sat there for what felt like hours. And it was hours that we were there until we were given a diagnosis from, what we were told was, an esteemed doctor. (We later found out that she is the doctor who writes the textbooks on gynecological cancers.) In a stupor, my mom learned that she had stage 2 cervical cancer and would begin aggressive treatment quickly. My mom could not even process what was happening.

We came back in June and learned that she would be coming back during July to do radiation daily and chemotherapy once a week for a month. I did not hesitate to open my home to her for her to get treatment from these doctors rather than having her stay in the small town she lives in. It was exhausting and strenuous on her. She is terrified of needles and went through being poked multiple times a day for a month. She spent a week in the hospital with sepsis due to poor cleanliness of nurses and doctors at the hospital when she received blood. She was living a nightmare. My mom got through the month though, and made it to the other side which was a radical hysterectomy. We almost lost her during that surgery. It was one of the most terrifying moments of my adult life.

After surgery, tests resulted in a different diagnosis: Stage 4 Endometrial cancer. Endometrial cancer is the label for cancers that start in the cervix and move to other areas of the female reproductive system. The good news though was she has beaten cancer!

Ringing the bell after completing radiation.

The phrase “it takes a village” applies to the support needed for a loved one through their treatment. She had a team of doctors and nurses that were all angels. I gained so much respect for nurses during this process. There were lovely admin women on the radiation floor that checked her in daily who met her with a smile every day. They asked me how my day was and truly became a key part of our lives during July 2019. They were there by her side when she rang the bell after completing radiation. My mom is a paraprofessional teaching 5th and 6th graders with autism. She was scared she would lose her job during all of this but with the support of her best friend (and coworker) and her principal she was able to keep her job which she looked forward to each day. Even my friends and husband made her feel welcome, inviting her to dinner and events so that she was active and was around positive light during a dark time.

But, cancer doesn’t stop with just the person going through it. I watched my dad regress to not being available and depending on me to take care of the family. My mom moving in with me was not singularly a decision made for her treatment but because I had to step in changing from the oldest child to the matriarch of my family. I made decisions for my family and medical decisions for my mother. I have yet to have time to grieve and process what has happened because it was a whirlwind of events. I was running my immediate family, taking my mom to appointments and making sure they were scheduled as well as taking notes, administering her medication through her PICC line, stepping into a counseling role for her, and much more. All while I had to maintain my career (hiding from upper management that I was working part-time), keep my house up making dinner and cleaning, still trying to have a social life, and not lose my sanity. Thankfully I was in therapy myself.

I never thought much about these awareness months. You don’t think about them unless they affect you personally. Even if you know someone outside of your immediate friendships or family, you still don’t understand. You post your ribbon on social media and maybe share a little pre-written blurb you found but you don’t see the pain. I watched my mom go from the most decisive and strong woman I know to someone who couldn’t function with her daily life without me there to help her make those basic decisions about her health. She repeats herself as if her memory only lasts from the last 5 minutes. Her once happy-go-lucky with a dash of cynicism became “I feel hopeless.” My mom had very long beautiful shiny brown hair and she lost it all. She has to wear a medical mask in public. She cannot walk through a store without having to sit down after a few minutes. She is in constant pain and confusion. For me, the worst part is not knowing how to comfort her because I don’t and cannot understand the depth of her pain. I do see the mental and physical pain she goes through and it hurts to not find the proper way to console her to bring back the shine in her.

THIS is what awareness is for. THIS is what you are running these marathons for and donating for. The support and love those with cancer need to make it through these “hopeless” feelings is needed more than your social media post. Volunteer at your local cancer center, find non-for-profit companies that donate care packages and deliver them at these centers. Just go there and hug someone, say hello to someone you see around and tell them you’re glad they are still around. A simple high five once gave my mom so much joy she talked about it for days. If one of you has experienced this, just know that my heart goes out to you. I send you and your loved one good vibes. Please know you are not alone.
I urge you, while you are still young to get the HPV shot. This is one of the ways to prevent this type of cancer. They didn’t have this as an option when my mom was my age (it came out when I was in middle school). We need to fight to keep Planned Parenthood and other medical facilities that offer these services for those who cannot afford it so they have the opportunity to avoid the pain that my mom is going through.

To learn more about Cervical Cancer awareness and where to receive HPV shots or screenings please visit the National Cervical Cancer Coalition website.

My mom has two more chemotherapy treatments and she is done. She’s one of the lucky ones.

much love,

B