This may sound a little over-dramatic, but Iѻým currently dying.
I mean, (spoiler alert) technically we all are. But at the moment I have cervical cancer, and am just finishing all of the tests required before treatment starts. Itѻýs a personal cancer, with intimate details of symptoms. Itѻýs a cancer that begins with invasive screening, and when itѻýs hopefully cured, some very privately heartbreaking side effects.
All of it may be too personal for print, although in my opinion it shouldnѻýt be. But suffice it to say that I have been diagnosed with 2B cervical cancer, with involvement of at least one lymph node. This is going to take more than a few visits to the gynecologist to clear up, but Iѻýll be okay in the end.
As my symptoms worsened, it got harder to be at work. So Iѻýve been at home for the past month. Iѻýve been preparing for chemo and radiation, which will take about six or seven weeks once it starts. Iѻýve been resting and spending time with my family, and napping. And Iѻýve been kicking myself.
I am acutely aware that Iѻým in this situation because I willfully neglected my regular pap smears for a few years. Okay, many years.
I had been to the doctor for countless other reasons. Iѻýd even been through a breast cancer scare, but still no pap smear. Itѻýs hard to know how long Iѻýve had this tumour. Even as I was getting more and more ill over the past seven or eight months, the thought of cervical cancer never crossed my mind.
Honestly.
Over the past month, I havenѻýt just been sitting around waiting for treatment. Iѻýve learned things about the disease that every woman should know. We donѻýt talk about cervical cancer like we do about breast cancer. Perhaps because when we go to the doctor and do the routine screening, itѻýs caught early enough that we barely have to miss a day of work. Cervical cancer is a slow-growing one, after all, with no early symptoms.
From chatting with friends, Iѻýve learned Iѻým not alone in forgoing that annual or bi-annual exam. For this reason alone, Iѻým eager to share what Iѻým learning with everyone, because as the commercials currently on TV right now say: ѻýIѻýd rather be anywhere than here.ѻý
And ѻýhereѻý so far in my journey is countless, painful internal exams, multiple trips to the ER, endless imaging appointments including MRIs, CT scans and even a PET scan in Vancouver. Itѻýs meant consults and hospital tours, all in Abbotsfordѻýs beautiful cancer clinic. Itѻýs included days spent in bed, hours spent in a hot bath in agony from the inside out, thousands of trips to the washroom, a binder that grows with medical paperwork by the week, medication Iѻýve never heard of, and arms and hands covered in bruises from injections and blood work.
Itѻýs given me my first tattoos, three tiny marks around my hips and pelvis to line me up with the radiation machine.
Itѻýs involved tears, but also love and warmth from friends and family. Itѻýs included access to fast testing, immediate results, and caring doctors and nurses. Each note of positivity, each card in the mail, each kindness to my family, has given us reasons to smile in a time when we could easily retreat into darkness. Yes, this is a world I want to stay in, for as long as possible.
In a few months, I will be post-treatment and looking toward a long life once again. But it didnѻýt have to be this dramatic, this fraught with emotion and risks and side effects. It could have been caught sooner had I been more pro-active.
So please, book your screening and talk to your doctor about other cancer risks.
Jessica Peters is a reporter with The Chilliwack Progress