Milestones Galore

Two days ago marked 20 years cancer free for me, and I wrote about it a little bit here.

But what isn't apparent in that pretty upbeat post was the deep, deep sadness that consumed me for the entire day. It started creeping up on me as I was writing the post, then just kind of got worse and worse until hubby found me in my office a weepy mess. What the f%^& is wrong with me?? I asked that question, he didn't. I didn't think I had an answer. I just assumed it was a typical malaise that we all encounter every now and again. I was surprised by the words that came out.

20 years later and what do I have to show for it? What have I done with the life that was given to me? How have I helped anyone else besides myself? Who have I lived for beyond me? My life could have ended 20 years ago but it didn't. How have I shown my gratitude?

That was part of it. The other part of was based much more soundly in self-pity. 20 years later and I still have a drawer full of meds I can't afford. What's changed?? 20 years later and I am trying to undo what's been done to pieces of me that were never diseased in the first place.

But hang on a second. That's awfully presumptuous of me. What makes me think that hubby and I would have zero problems conceiving if cancer weren't in the picture? What makes me so sure that we wouldn't be in the same boat as so many of our real and blogging friends - testing, trying, testing again, trying to figure out why what should be so easy sometimes isn't? Cancer is an easy, easy (and deserving) scapegoat for us. But it has saved us from the months and months of diagnostic hells that so many of you go through - Do not pass Go, go directly to Egg Donor Program. We didn't have the unknowns, the unexplained, the maybe this, maybe that diagnoses that I know would have driven me crazy. So, I'm thinking for that I should be thankful.

Yesterday marked the one year anniversary of our first consultation with the RE. One year. That's a long time, but then again, it isn't. One year later and what do we have to show for it? Well, we now have our families and most of our friends fully invested in (and thankfully supportive of) our desire to have a family. It's no longer a secret, something whispered wistfully between us. I have this blog and this one which have turned into vehicles for empowerment, advocacy, and most importantly, have put me in touch with some kick *ss amazing, phenomenal women.

I have two little embryos that I hope are growing inside me as I type. Tune in Thursday for the first Beta.

And for that, I am thankful.

Hey, but what about...

My friend sent me this article the other day on long-term childhood cancer survivors. Not bad, but other than a fleeting mention on page 2, it is missing one critical piece. The "probably sterile" one on page 10.

I'm not angry. I'm not bitter. I am just hopeful that as the circle of survivors grows and becomes a powerful demographic and social voice, those of us with the fortune to survive and the misfortune to do so before freezing eggs was even a possibility will be more than a footnote or one sentence in an eight page article.

19

Today marks 19 years in remission for me. Tomorrow is our first consultation at the fertility clinic. It’s kind of a big week.

We are scheduled to meet with the doctor, the shrink, the nurse practitioner, the financial advisor and the social worker. The whole nine yards. I took today off work just to review paperwork. Are we really going to do this? As of right now, I’m still thinking yes.

Filling out medical history forms shouldn’t be emotionally draining. But it is. Because no matter how well I feel now I am forced to recount in great detail a time when I didn’t.

If you responded yes to any of the above questions, please detail the event, the doctors and hospital involved and year in which they took place.

If you, or a member of your immediate family, has a history of any of the following illnesses or symptoms, please turn to side two and complete the additional questions.

And there’s the left hook of the one-two punch. I am adopted. So whenever faced with these questions, I have to write a big “N/A” or draw in an asterisk and try to fit in tiny letters somewhere on the already crowded form an explanation of why I have no idea whether or not breast cancer or heart disease runs in my family because I don’t know who my family is.

Please don’t tell me that the people that raised me are my family and the rest is irrelevant. I’m in no state to hear that. That was last week’s drama. That can be another post.

Today, the paperwork is finished, all of the remaining credit cards have been dredged out of drawers, dusted off, credit limits checked and hubby and I have given ourselves the fifteenth pep talk of the week.

Now, I want to refocus my energy on being physically and mentally prepared for the days to come. These are exciting times.

Today is my anniversary. Today I feel invincible.