Off to See the Wizard

Well, that didn't work out as planned. I'm not sure which one of you dropped the Love and Light ball (I'm almost certain it was a cousin on my mother's side), but please know that I forgive you (everyone but my cousin on my mother's side).

Yesterday, after an endoscopic ultrasound (aka more ass probing, this time with colored pictures), I was diagnosed with a T3 tumor. This is not the news I was hoping for. As soon I heard the words come out of the doctors mouth I knew my 5 year survival rate went down 37%.

FUCK CANCER!!!  Fuck, Fuck, Fuck FUCK CANCER!!! 

Speaking of FUCK CANCER, did you know that 90% of all cancers are curable if caught in Stage One. I was poised to do some major fundraising for Lets Fuck Cancer, thinking I could be the poster child for early detection, until I discovered my wrecked-tail cancer. Even so, this is a great organization - 100% MONKEY endorsed - so please take a moment to check them out. 

fuck cancer, fuck cancer, fuck cancer

(deep breath)

In a personal essay I wrote titled, Kerry's Wallet - a futile attempt at understanding the circumstances surrounding my son's death - I relay the contents of his wallet.

Late last night, between tears and screams and lip lined bowls of wine, I felt compelled to clear out mine.

In the center pocket of my wallet, pressed between old sales receipts and wilted business cards, was a half-folded, yellow sticky note. Written on it was the name, "Dr. Felice Zwas."

It was November of 2011 when my gynecologist, Dr. Donna Hagberg handed me that sticky note and said, "don't put it off." I remember thinking, "Zwas sounds like Oz, how bad can it be?" so I made the appointment for my first colonoscopy (syrupy Seuss rhyme alert).

Unfortunately, I was hyper-vigilant that day and also made an appointment for my yearly mammogram and we all know how that turned out.

14 months, and 7 surgeries later, I finally visit the great and powerful Zwas and the trip is not so sweet.

This time it's not self contained. This time it is not two, dried up udders being chopping off. This time I'll be losing something functional and necessary. (notice how angry I am)

What lesson did I miss from my breast cancer? I understand that I am here to learn and grow. I understand that adversity is my greatest opportunity for growth. I understand that I signed up for all this before touching down. So what piece of the puzzle am I missing??? (That is a trick question... don't answer it. You know I hate being told what to do and you know I have to figure it out for myself.)

I know, I know, I know I am strong, I can take it. But even so, I must confess, I spent the past week trying to figure a way out of this mess. (why is everything rhyming?)

What's next...

Two more opinions. One in the city at Memorial Sloan Kettering. God, how I hate the thought of going there but if you're unlucky enough to have cancer, and you want to live, it's hard to avoid.

The other opinion is a local doctor who is well respected.

I'm getting hugs, and tears, and even a few appropriately placed kisses from doctors and nurses who are compassionate and sincerely concerned. I find this extremely comforting. I like to make them laugh and I have a slew of one line ass jokes that I practice on them. Making them laugh helps me feel less vulnerable, less humiliated. Besides, I'm hoping my twisted sense of humor reminds them that I am human.

I love you all. 

Please keep your love light flowing.

If you don't give up on me, I won't give up on me.

xo, MonkeyME