The “C” word can just “F” off!

Have you ever wondered how you would react if you were told you had a tumour? What if you were told the tumour was benign, but then came back as cancer? Well I am going to dive in and relive the turmoil of both of those events that happened to me. If you have had to experience these events, my heart goes out to you and I will hold you tight and pray to Jesus you will be taken care of. If you haven’t, count your blessings. Unfortunately in today’s day and age with our toxic environment, more and more genetically modified foods and with 5G, smart meters and other bad EMF's pinging us constantly and damaging our DNA, it may soon be a common thing to experience for most everyone. And THAT scares me more than anything.

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After The Dust Settled

I will never forget the numbness I had felt when I left my doctors office after he told me I had a tumour. If you haven’t caught the first part of the story, be sure to read Why A Miscarriage Was The Best Thing To Happen To Me. It wasn’t even so much that they had found a tumour. It was that they found a MASSIVE one that I had only assumed had already spread throughout my body. 14 cm was the estimated size. It was as if I was growing another baby.

So many things were buzzing through my head on the drive home. Questions on how long did I have left? Where do I get a Will done up? Will I see my daughter’s 3rd birthday? How did I notice my growing belly and just assumed that I was eating poorly, when in fact I really wasn’t?

The next night, my husband had to work, so I was left alone with Aymara. We were playing quietly on the floor together. I remember not really being present for days after the appointment, but in that moment playing on the floor with her blocks, I decided to see what a 14 cm mass really looked like. So I built it. I was sorry I did. I stared in disbelief at the atrocity.

How could this be in me? Where did the rest of my organs and intestines go?

Then I started going through symptoms I was experiencing. I was tired, but I had a toddler and birthed her at 40 years of age. I was putting on weight, but I also stopped breastfeeding a few months earlier. That’s where my two only symptoms end. My kidney never hurt. I never had sharp pains or aches. I never even had constipation. I knew I would get more answers at my CT scan.

The CT Scan

I have heard for years how dangerous CT scans were, especially when they used the dye. Under other circumstances like inflamed tissue, or maybe a blockage of something, I would opt for an MRI. The fact that a tumour the size of the Empire State Building had taken residence on my kidney, warranted the immediate need for this scan. I would deal with the radioactive repercussions later.

I had a young technician, who made me feel comfortable with his humour. I knew he would be upfront with me, so I took the opportunity to ask him how dangerous these CT scans were. He answered me, “If you don’t really need one, don’t do it. It’s equivalent to 500 chest X-rays,” he said. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. Now I was thinking, that if this cancer didn’t kill me, the CT scan would.

After the scan was finished, the tech came over and nonchalantly asked if I had felt any symptoms. I knew right away it was because of the size of it. He was shocked when I told him I hadn’t really. I couldn’t wait to see the scans. I just wanted this all to be over. Like NOW.

The Scan Results

I had to wait over a week to get in to my Urologist. The night before my appointment, my family doctor had called me right before I was going to bed. I will never forget our conversation.

He wanted to reassure me that the results had come back as benign. 

I started to cry for joy. He wanted me to have a good sleep that night, because he knew I hadn’t slept much at all with all the stress since the discovery. I thanked him for the call and I honestly DID have the best sleep in a long while. I knew going in I had nothing to worry about. I thanked God over and over again that night and every day until after my surgery.

My Urologist confirmed what my doctor had told me. She showed me all the markings of a benign tumour. I was going to be ok. She did say though she would have to remove my kidney, as the tumour had squashed it into a pancake, even though my blood tests showed it was still functioning fine. The idea of losing an organ didn’t sit well with me. I asked her to save it if she could. If it was benign, then so what if she left part of the tumour there. I wanted to keep my kidney! She said she couldn’t, but if she could, she would. As upset as I was, I was still grateful it was benign.

Meet Pablo

My surgery was scheduled for September 30, 2016. I had a month to wait. My worry and fear had turned into excitement and relief. I was excited to get this “second baby” out of me, and maybe they could take an additional 10-15lbs with it. My sense of humour came back about carrying my little friend “Pablo” around with me. I named him that because I was deep in the series Pablo Escobar on Netflix, and like how Pablo was a scary dude, my tumour scared me as well.

I started telling people about my tumour, especially when people asked me if I was pregnant again. I wouldn’t have said anything if I thought it was cancer, because I didn’t want them to feel bad. I would just joke that I was carrying a tumour that was the size of a small baby, but that everything was going to be ok.

The Surgery

The day came when it was time to remove Pablo. I was pretty nervous to go under. Part of me kept thinking I might not wake up. I prayed to Jesus while I waited outside the operating room, and as they injected me with the anesthesia, I felt the warmth coming over me and I prayed for Jesus to hold my hand.

I remember nothing being under, but I do remember the nurses waking me up from my deep slumber, so they could lift me onto my bed in my private room. The first thing I thought of was, “just leave me here, I’m so tired. I’ll go up after”, but they wouldn’t have it. The moment they tried to lift me onto the bed, I screamed in pain. It felt like my groin was ripping wide open, exposing my open wound. The nurses quickly put me down and checked it out. They said it looked fine, but it seriously felt like it was a raw, burning, open gap. Later the nurse had told me it was nerve pain from the nerves being cut and stretched. THAT was a far worse feeling than pushing a baby out of my vagina.

That pain lasted for many days, and it was the most crippling pain I had ever felt. Walking like a 90 year old with the worst posture ever, was the only way the nerve pain was tolerable. To my dysfunctional pleasure, I had my doctor take pictures of the tumour so I can get a true sense of what baby Pablo looked like, especially his size. I was shocked! If you would like to see the gruesome pics of my tumour and squashed kidney, you can do so here. (WARNING: very graphic)

The Surprise

My post-op follow up was exactly 2 weeks later. I wasn’t expecting much, other than to remove the bandages to take a look at the surgical sites, to make sure there were no signs of infections. I didn’t really have many questions going in except how long the nerve pain would last, which unfortunately can be up to a year. The pain was so intense, there was no way I could function in daily life, let alone take care of my two year old. The doctors and nurses even said there was nothing they could do. Pain medication didn’t really work for nerve damage.

Lucky for me, I am well versed in natural medicine. My trip to the local organic food market provided me with a homeopathic remedy called Hypericum Perforatum (I sound like Harry Potter doing a spell when I say this, lol). It specifically helps with nerve pain. It took less than 2 days and the pain was completely gone. I wish every medical professional would have this knowledge to pass on to their patients. It was literally a lifesaver.

A side note when using homeopathics: Take away from food at least 10-15 minutes. Turn pellets to drop into the cap. DO NOT TOUCH with your fingers. If you touch them, throw it out, it won’t work. Dump cap into mouth and let dissolve under the tongue. Do not store homeopathics near any electronic devices.

The moment my Urologist sat at her desk and pulled up my file, she didn’t waste any time with small talk. She jumped right in to tell me that the tumour came back as cancer.

I sat there dumbfounded. How could that be? I had all the markings of a benign tumour. I right away cut her off to ask how that could be after everything she had told me prior to the surgery? Of course they could never be certain until a biopsy was done, and when it was, it came back as a very rare form of cancer called chromophobe renal cell carcinoma.

The word chromophobe actually wasn’t a new word I had heard. I heard it before years prior when my mom had been diagnosed with the same cancer. What makes this even more bizarre, this cancer is NOT hereditary. What are the odds that my mom and I both had the same one?

With this cancer, apparently it would be the one to get if you got to choose what cancer you could get. It’s very slow growing, doesn’t spread typically, and radiation and chemotherapy don’t work on it, only surgery.

Suddenly I felt so grateful they had taken out my kidney and surrounding tissue, which the actual size came to 15.5 x 12 x 12.5 cm. The cells could have stayed in there and continued to grow. Hearing that I had a very rare cancer with these positive attributes (if you can even call them that), made me feel a little better. I didn’t need to make the choice to undergo chemo or radiation. The hard part was done.

My job now was to continue going for chest X-rays for the next 5 years, incase the cancer had already spread to the lungs, where normally that would be the first place it would spread to. Of course I had to ask, that if in fact it DID spread to the lungs, would they need to remove a part of my lung(s) as well? She looked uncomfortable when answering me. It didn’t bode well for me if it did spread there.

Lovely. That was all I needed to hear to have me living in fear for the next 3 years. Checking out Dr.Google, chromophobe could also spread to the brain. When I asked to get a full MRI from head to toe following my first yearly check up, she said no. She wouldn’t do it unless I had symptoms. I reminded her I had NO symptoms of my tumour on my kidney, and wouldn’t it be better to catch it BEFORE symptoms started to increase my survival rate?

In the end, I never did get that MRI. After doing more research, I think the MRI could have caused me more anxiety, because they are known to pick up bits and pieces of scar tissue and other markings that are completely safe and benign. Digging around in there would have only caused more damage.

The Power Of Prayer

My life changed completely after leaving that day I was told I had cancer. I couldn’t cry for days because of the shock I was in.

Pablo was NOT my little friend after all.

I began talking to God again. I thank Him all the time. I thanked Jesus for being with me during surgery. I thank Him for the miscarriage that very much saved my life. I thank Him for my beautiful daughter and for blessing me with becoming a mom. All the little things that bothered me before, never bothered me again. Even the things that were in a sense big at the time, I would always take a step back and realize that things happen for a reason.

That smashed window in my car may have prevented me from a future car accident if I was still driving it. The failed plans to vacation somewhere could have been a disaster of a trip. The falling out with a friend may have been for my protection. I don’t question things anymore. I say Thank You and I move on.

Do I still worry about the “C” word? Sometimes. Especially when it’s time for my check up. I don’t want to go through it again, that’s for sure. As time goes on and I am now reaching the 10 year mark, I have become more comfortable knowing I am okay. Living in the present moment brings me more “gifts” than fearing the future or regretting the past.

When my time comes to go home, then I go. That is in God’s hands.

I do take action in being healthy and living each day to the fullest, or at least I try. I’m not perfect. If I continue to eat poorly, let stress consume me and be angry at the world, I WILL get sick again. I don’t like playing Russian Roulette. I don’t like taking risky chances. Especially now that I have children. I want to be there for them as long as I can. I want to be there for me too.

I am here to fulfill a purpose after all. My job is not over yet.