A HELL of a Year So Far

This is only my second blog for 2018. The year has not been my favorite.

In January, I found out I had endometrial cancer in my uterus. Just for fun, I got a complete hysterectomy - ovaries and cervix included, because it was the only way to completely remove the chance of it reappearing. I got the genetic test that said I do not carry the cancer gene. Yet, while the scary-looking robot was inside of me, the doctors discovered I also had a tumor on my bladder. 6 weeks after the hysterectomy, I had the tumor removed and they put chemo inside of my bladder to prevent another tumor from forming. All of this happened between February and mid-June

In the past month, Medicaid wrote me to tell me they were changing my coverage to "family planning only" - so useful for a 57 year old woman who has had a recent hysterectomy. I had to beg the cranky HR person who handles my landlady / employer's accounting, for a letter stating that I am an actual employee here, being paid - in kind - with an apartment. The information has been faxed to Medicaid and now I wait.

Two weeks ago, my urine became the color of Coca-cola. Then I had a blood clot come out of my pee. I pushed up the 3 month cancer screening and had a scope shoved up my urethra to discover that the wall, opposite my former tumor, was scarred and bloody. I firmly believe the chemo therapy caused this. The condition is called cystitis, according to a cancer website from the Texas Oncology clinic. It is an infection that can become very dangerous. My oncologist / urologist thinks I have another tumor. I composed an email informing her I refuse any future chemotherapy treatment. I think I need a second opinion, but where does one get this, when one has Medicare and is waiting for re-approval for supplemental Medicaid?

So, now I am filled with worry and thoughts of my demise. Now I look at the clothes piled on my bed and my apartment I am too weary to clean and think of the burden I will leave for others - most probably my sisters, if they can fly in - to sort out. I don't want to leave a mess.

On Facebook, I wrote my own obituary, of sorts. It chronicled the highlights of the past 57 years:

"It hasn't been a bad life. I got to meet and "make friends" with Barry Manilow, got to live in some of the most beautiful places in the country, flew on airplanes, bi-planes, jets, helicopters, hot-air balloons and a glider. Traveled on small boats, too. Sang for a living in my early years in several bands. Sang the National Anthem for the Seattle Mariners more than a few times. Worked on the radio for nearly 20 years. Got to go back to college when I was nearly 40 and finally get that degree. I became a painter and showed my work in galleries and coffee shops and hair salons. Sold a few of them to strangers! Produced a talk show with 16 million listeners every night. Saw deer and antelope and coyotes in my back yard. Loved several cats and a few dogs. A shame I never had a properly reciprocated romantic relationship that lasted more than (a couple of years). Never wanted kids. Finally got the truck I always wanted. A shame I never saw a UFO."

I hate that my sister thinks it is just "stinkin' thinkin'" and "what I think I become". I didn't think about any of this. Ever. Cancer did not seem like a possibility in my life because it isn't really in the family, except for the relatives who were heavy smokers. Is this how it ends or is this the start of something new?

As I've said before, I'm ready for the crap to end now.

Now What?

In 1996, six pounds of painful, useless flesh and fat were removed from my mammary glands. They call it breast reduction surgery. I take full responsibility for this elective procedure.

March 12, 2008 was the date of my first open-heart aortic valve replacement surgery. I chose a cow valve (they were out of pig parts that day)

Then there was the mold that got to me in 2010 and early 2011. Seattle doesn't think it has a problem.

Having been thrown on to the dance floor in 2010, it was determined I had a cracked and chipped 5th lumbar disc in my back. The pain comes and goes.

Late June of 2011 had me stuck in a 3-hour traffic jam at the top of Donner Pass in California. A week later, I was in the hospital for 8 days, being pumped with Heparin and Warfarin because a blood clot sailed up my leg and through my heart and took up residency in my lungs. Pullmanary Embolism, is its formal name.

More mold, this time in Pennsylvania, made me move to the high desert in New Mexico at the end of 2012.

A surprise diagnosis of an ascending (upper) aortic aneurysm needed immediate surgery in February of 2015, but not until after a large tumor that had wrapped itself around half of my thyroid and vocal chords was removed in January. And oh, by the way, the 7 year old cow heart valve got replaced by a pig valve, also.

What is this, March of 2018? Well, they've just discovered cancer in my uterus and it has to be taken out.

What the fuck, universe?