2020 has been a hell of a year so far. But let me go back about a year and a half first.
In August of 2019, I had a bad cough that wasn’t going away. I decided I was going to go in to the walk in clinic at my own doctor’s office, and it was another doctor who was seeing patients in clinic that day. I’d never met her before. She walked in, and looked about 15, and I thought “Nope. Not today.” But really, what was the worst that could happen?
She was really cool, and easy to talk to. So I just happened to mention that over the last six months or so before then, I’d also been having some issues with my face breaking out. Now, I’ve been pretty lucky in that area for the most part through my life. Even as a teenager, I had pretty perfect skin. I’ve always taken good care of it, and other than the typical cycle zit most women deal with, it had never been an issue for me. But over those months leading up, I had multiple cystic bumps at a time, and I didn’t think a whole lot of it but it was starting to frustrate me. She asked me a few more questions, and decided to send me for an ultrasound. Ultrasound? Huh? I didn’t really know where she was headed with this, but I figured she’s the doctor, she’ll figure it out. She gave me the requisition for that and some bloodwork, and off I went.
The lab called a couple of days later, and I went in about a week later to do both. My clinic is awesome in the way that if you can’t see your doctor, and the other one has space, they’ll see you and consult with each other. And I really like them both, which also helps. A couple of days after the tests were done, the clinic called and said that yes, they did need to see me for sure. I was a little rattled.
I went in, and she wasted no time. “You have polycycstic ovarian syndrome.” I stared blankly. I thought maybe my bloodwork would show my hormones were out of whack, or that I was severely anemic again, as I’d been really tired and that had happened before. She ran down a bunch of symptoms, many of which I didn’t even have. Either really heavy or missed periods. Nope. Excess facial hair. Nada. But this was what she suspected right from the start. Good job you, doc. This causes hormonal imbalances that can wreak havoc on your skin, lucky me! Other things that can come along? Depression, check. Anxiety, check. Chronic fatigue, check. Fabulous. And the best part? It’s chronic, there’s nothing to be done about it. But there was also something else that made sense. That I hadn’t had a successful pregnancy. There were options, but at that time, at nearly 41, it was out of reach. Devastated doesn’t cover it. But, that’s for another time.
So, fast forward to 2020. In January, I went in for a routine ultrasound to check up on my ovarian cysts. In December I had started a new medication and booked a follow up for that at the end of January. Two days later, the clinic called saying the needed to see me. When I said I had an appointment a little over a week later, they said that no, they wanted to see me sooner. Panic ensued.
I got an appointment for the next day, and it was a different doctor that was covering for my usual two. She told me that they found a new cyst on my right ovary the size of a lemon. Again, I stared blankly. Then she went on to say she didn’t THINK I had cancer (uh, what??) but they wanted to be proactive and send me for bloodwork to check for cancer markers ASAP. I went downstairs to the lab and had it done that day. Just casually, I said that it usually takes a day or two for results, right? Wrong. The test gets sent to Edmonton, and takes a week to come back. I beg your pardon? Yeah. Torture.
That was a Thursday. By the next Friday, I still hadn’t heard anything. I called my clinic, where the receptionist told me yes, the results had come back that morning, but the doctor was in surgery and wouldn’t be able to review them until Monday, and they’d call me. At the time, I thought another weekend of waiting might kill me. Saturday morning, my phone rang. The hospital’s number came up. I froze. Good news from a hospital never comes on a weekend. I answered, barely breathing. But she was quick to the point, and told me that the bloodwork showed that my cancer markers were normal. And in that moment, I realized that I hadn’t been fully breathing for over a week. My lungs completely inflated for the first time in 9 days.
Now, the idea that there’s something in me the size of a lemon is still unnerving to say the very least. They scheduled another ultrasound for the end of March. That was since canceled with everything that’s been going on with COVID-19, but there’s not much I can do about that right now. I’m not having any pain, and it’s not causing me any other issues. So for now, I wait.
February brought another fun experience. I cracked a tooth badly, and had to get it pulled. I’m a tough cookie when it comes to pain, that wasn’t bothering me at all. For weeks afterward, though, I had the weirdest sensation almost like I was teething. I think it was the lack of pressure between the two teeth, paired with my gums being swollen, where the two teeth on either side felt like they were shifting, and I constantly wanted to gnaw on something for relief. It drove me beyond crazy. To the point where it would wake me up at night. I knew it would be temporary, thank God. It’s healed up well, and I’m glad it’s over!
That brings us to March. Oh, you fickle bitch. This pandemic is the first thing of it’s kind in my lifetime. There have been other scary things. SARS, swine flu, etc. But this is a whole other beast. I still can’t really process the entirety of it. Part of it is the severity. But moreover, it’s the fact that there’s still so many that aren’t taking it seriously. We’re into April now, and no signs of this ending soon. I’ve been in quarantine…I think three weeks? I’m not even sure anymore, but it’s getting to me. I can’t work, with self isolation and social distancing. Which I AM taking seriously. I haven’t seen my parents in weeks. It’s killing me.
When this started, I expected anxiety as part of the deal. I knew that would come, as I suffer from anxiety to begin with. So that made sense to me, that my anxiety would be heightened. What I did not expect, was this feeling of uselessness. Not being able to work brings financial pressures, and we’re trying to find ways around that, but this is something different altogether. There’s a lot of things I could be doing, and just don’t have the energy to do them. I’m trying hard to stay positive, but it’s tough some days. So far though, I’m just really happy that all my loved ones are safe and healthy.
The one thing through this, is the things that I’ve seen in others at this time. The acts of kindness. The decency in some people. And I think about my family. And my friendships that have endured so much. And I’ve made some new connections through Twitter that have been a pleasant surprise. And they’ve kept me occupied and entertained through this, which is something. I don’t know how long this is going to go on, but there’s got to be light at the end of this tunnel somewhere. There just has to be. So I wait.