Awkward Moments (VERY Rated R post)

Standing in line waiting for the cashier to ring up the guy in front of me, I nervously looked around and for the first time was impatient as ever. Usually I'm totally cool with chatty chashiers. I was one of them, once upon a blue moon. It can be boring standing there. The little old man in front of me who I usually would have considered adorable was slowly counting out his change and I continued to glance nervously around the store. WHY of all days was this taking so long. It was a health food store, I could just imagine the stares and thoughts in peoples heads. I got antsier by the second and began jumping around in my place, hopefully looking just cold and not like I was nervous, for really what was not a big deal. FINALLY it was my turn. I place the goods on the little thingy and the cashier had to roll them around for the bar code. UGH, really? REALLY? Then she asked me about their rewards program, to save money. OOH I like saving money! But how long would this take because people are going to walk in the door and line up behind me and see what I was buying. Flashbacks were popping in my head of the one word she could say that would crush me. This had to be the most uncomfortable situation ever.

It was official, buying prenatal vitamins is just as awkward as buying condoms.

The flashback of the last time,

"Congratulations"

The cashier was just being polite, but I wasn't preggo, not even close. I didn't even bother to correct her, because explaining why this is the biggest oxymoron of life would take about the length of the average human gestation time. But really, buying prenatal vitamins when you can't get pregnant, it seems cruel in a sense. However, they're exactly the type of vites I need. Plus they help my hair and nails grow- BONUS!

So when I finally walked out of the store, vitamins tucked safely away in my bag, I could breath again. I mean can't a girl just want pretty hair, nails and skin with out having to worry about the stigma attached from assumptions made from one single purchase. But in all reality I was more so mad at myself, because really, who the heck cares. These people don't know me. It's the little reminders that take you out of your world and pull you back down to remind you that you're just a small fish in a big pond, not the fisherman, who every fish is aware of.

Where am I going with this... oh right. Assumptions and judgements. Never assume anything, never judge anyone. You're just opening up the door to have it come right back to you. However awkward moments are becoming the story of my life.

It's no secret with cervical cancer that there is some "rehabilitation" involved after the radiation. For full details see blog post "Accepting Applications" (Or Click Here) but the coles notes goes like this. Radiation makes the lady bits smaller, tighter and all around virginal. This may sound like a loosey gooseys dream but I'm not exactly a goose and forgive the over kill but was already smaller to begin with. (Hello pediatric speculum... awkward)

When my doctor told me there would be an 80% chance I could have sex again, I think I actually choked on the air I was supposedly supposed to subconsciously be able to breathe.

"Um what about the other 20%, I'm only 25."

Screw infertility, this is my sex life you're now messing with. My questions/comments at every appointment usually consisted of something along the lines of

"Well I can't bone if I'm not alive! When can I bone again? What are the prospects of a healthy sex life doc?"

The answer always involved a vaginal dilator. Well ummm ok, that sounds fun and dandy... not. My one doc was finally straight up with me...

"You know, it will work just as well and probably be more fun to just go and get some sex toys."

SOLD! To the doc who realized I am supposed to be just entering my sexual prime! AdamandEve.com and I have become close personal acquaintances. KY jelly is my new best friend. Let the rehabbing begin :D

So- this seems like an easy solution right? I mean orgasms are directly linked to lessening stress. (Semen is reportedly linked to alleviating depression but thats a whole other convo I don't want to 'spew' on about right now that clearly doesn't apply. ::laughing so hard, so proud of that one::) SO where does the problem lay? I mean I like orgasms, I'm well aware of what this rehab involves, I have all the necessary tools.... Oh right I live with my parents. -_-

Vibrators arn't quiet. It's a fact. We also have a dog who loves to sleep with me, and then there is Dexy who I would never not allow in my room. I'm being rehab cockblocked by my pets and parents. My future sex life is resting upon 8 paws and parentals. This has to be some sick joke.

Options... #1 well shut my door. You would think right? The layout of the house has the master bedroom and my bedroom separated by only a small bathroom. Also, we're a tight knit family, who is not opposed to barging in. Plus the animals get separation anxiety from me. (But yes, yes I do shut my door.)

#2 Wait till no one is home, WHY is this surprisingly rare? They both work, a lot! They both have friends and lives and yet... ::Palm to shaking forehead:: it seems like an impossible scenario.

I'm actually about to go pull a highschool and take my car up to look out point for a little alone time. (Not that I've ever done that........) Moving on.

#3 The bathroom... umm what am I a dude? Plus its right next to the master.

Realistically these are a lot of excuses that can be overcome, but I think it comes down to the fact, I'm having trouble mentally getting over the fact that I'm .... pleasuring myself in my parents home. Everybody masturbates. If you don't you're a straight up liar... but really, why can't I get over it. I've even tried looking at it differently.

"This is not masturbation, this is rehabilitation."

Maybe it's a glaring respect issue, because I would never have sex while the rentals are home (except for one time with an ex, but that was the shortest dog walk of life MOM!) I won't even bring boys or boyfriends to my house unless we've been dating for quite a while. But this isn't even a human, this is B.O.B. (My battery operated boyfriend) who is stashed with the guys I'm cheating on him with. (Apparently I have a few B.O.B.'s in my arsenal.) The whole point is to expand so I had to buy varying sizes, which apparently do varying things. Its like a fascinating science, I'm not even mad, I'm impressed!

Also for the record "stashed"- hiding this stuff is not easy. My mother knows which drawer to avoid, but its a little harder telling your dad

"Ummm don't look there, no seriously dad don't!"

Guys don't do subtle and he will prod with questions until he'll instantly regrets that decision.

SO lets get down to it, this is doctors orders. 3x a week for at least 20 minutes. (No seriously that's what they said.) Also, if we're taking away the sex element, it's not just so that I can have a future sex life but also so that I can get pelvic exams with out feeling like I'm giving birth. Honestly its more for the sex life.

Now for the cancer part of it, because this whole post couldn't just be... ya know. After each session I also have to insert creams. A special antibiotic of sorts because this is a painful process. It's not all fun and games. I'm prone to infection and tearing is inevitable. I also have to switch it up and occasionally insert estrogen creams to help soften the tissue making it easier to stretch. Its a messy process. Its an awkward process. My vagina and I are at war for Orgasm's which technically should make us both very happy. #ThisIsMyLife

So as far as awkward moments go, it's time to suck it up, throw on my wicked headphones, turn on some porn and give her hell. Either that or my future Plenty Of Fish tagline will be "Only Small Penis's Need Apply!"

Awkward- is now just officially the name of the game :)

T.A.F. - And The Results Are.....

"An Arrow can only be shot by pulling it backwards. So when life is dragging you back with difficulties, it means that its going to launch you into something great. So just focus and keep aiming."

The arrow has been my symbol of hope for this adventure. This speed bump has caused me to sit back, slow down, re-evaluate, and get excited. Cancer was a set back, a HUGE, sucky one. But, it put me on the launching pad to shoot forward with the rest of my life.

Sunday night, I rolled around aimlessly in bed, for hours. I couldn't sleep. I knew what Monday morning brought. 6 am... 7am... 8am... the last time check I remember was 9am. My mum woke me up at quarter to twelve and I laid in bed cursing the world. It was cold, and I didn't want to get out of bed. I finally got up, threw some real clothes on (you know as opposed to fake ones) and sat back in bed. Going through my pharmacy of medications, I created my cocktail. 1 Perc, 1 xanax, 1 Valium, 1 Ativan, 1 Codeine. Ok this should do it I thought. My mum's best friend K was visiting in town and so we got in the car and were out. I warned her, this could get interesting.
We stopped at Wawa

"Um are you able to go into Wawa?"

My mum asked. In my most offended tone-

"Mom, this stuff hasn't even touched me."

I got my biscuit (OMG I miss Tim Hortons) and we were really off. My tolerance is really too high.

We got to the hospital and didn't have to wait long in the waiting room. A, the nurse, took me back to get my vital signs and all I was excited about was the fact my weight had stayed the same. Hey, its the small victories Then off to the cow oven mitts room.

I stripped, knee socks matching the cow mitts which very much excited me. Sheet on top and ready to wait for the doc. I quickly popped a dilaudid while on the table, my anxiety was rising faster than the mercury in a thermometer in a heat wave.

So, the meds and why I knew I needed to be sedated. If all went well today, Dr. D was going to remove the "thing" inside me. Said thing is a device that was surgically implanted to help Dr. D2 during the high dose radiation. The device helped him to guide the tools that would be inserted to get the radiation beam to go exactly where he needed it too, and to help protect the healthy surrounding tissue. It was the procedure that brought on tears each time because it was so painful and I couldn't wait to get this thing out. However, it had been surgically implanted, so I didn't expect its removal to be a piece of cake either.

Dr. D came in and got the speculum ready. It was SO painful for him to insert. This was already not going well. Any woman who has had to visit her OB/GYN knows it can be uncomfortable and awkward but painful shouldn't be on that list of adjectives. I gripped my hands together and closed my eyes and tried to breathe.
I didn't see the scissors, but hearing them, inside your lady bits, its scary as hell! They had to cut the stitches and I could hear each slice of the scissor. I kept trying to picture the Eiffle Tower with each breath, Black Christian Louboutin pumps and a sturdy gentleman and I kissing underneath France's beloved structure. It was the first image that came to mind and I kept going back to it, every time I thought I was going to faint from the sound of a slice.

I can't even describe anyone else in the room because I was on mental breathing duty. There were four or five stitches and I don't know how I wasn't shaking. Maybe I was. Finally once the stitches were cut he gently pulled out the little thing. (Which in reality wasn't that little). Normally I would have taken a pic, but it wasn't something I wanted to remember. I was tender and it hurt like hell. When everything was out he did his exam and the tiniest of movements and touches hurt. (This is not going to be good for my impending sex life.)

"You have had a complete response to the treatment."

Wait whAAAAAT? It was so refreshing to hear. It was what I needed to hear. It was to be completely honest, not what I was expecting to hear.

Flashback:
Dr. D pulled my parents aside after my first surgery months ago. The prognosis wasn't good and this was going to be one hell of a challenge.

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!

We went in his office to discuss and FINALLY the words I had been waiting to hear, had been said, again.

"You have had a complete response to the treatment!"

There were lots of questions but as per Courtney

"Um so when do I get to start with the vibrators and this whole vaginal dilation thing?"

- 4 weeks. UGH, the one thing I was excited about, but all good things are worth waiting for. As we were walking out of his office Dr. D said

"I was really surprised at how well you handled the procedure."

To which I confidently responded

"I'm not going lie, I'm slightly sedated."

With a smile he returned with a quick

"Thought so."

Now, am I out of the gate yet, no. BUT most likely YES! In four weeks I have to have a PET scan to check my lymph nodes. I have to wait the four weeks because all of the radiation and treatment will have caused inflammation that could lead to a false positive. It's too intense and expensive a scan to just do on a whim.
I will have one follow up appointment after that and then be done! DONE! DONE DONE DONE! (Until my next check up.)

SO where does this leave me. For the next two years I have to have a check up every three months. If there is the slightest of symptoms that something could be wrong, I have to high tail it to a doc.

HELLO PARANOIA- nice to meet you, I think we're going to be the best of friends.

After those two years, I have to have a check up every 6 months for 5 years. I have to continue hormone replacement therapy as well but that didn't surprise me. SO basically, now lots of doctors appointments for the next few years, again.

In the next four weeks we will check as well to make sure the leukemia wasn't brought on by the radiation. In the mean time and for now.

"Hey cancer- Fuck you, I WIN!"

The car ride home was a blur. I was stoned out of my mind. (Thanks meds for kicking in too late...as usual.) I remember blabbering on about salsa. We even stopped and got some. I remember passing out in the car (because I remember being woken up.) As we were walking in the door I stopped and stared at the clouds-

"Its going to snow."

Everyone was like yea ok whatever. (It snowed this morning- boom stoned weather predictions!) I tackled my sister's bff J when I walked through the door, he wasn't mad, in the slightest. I spilled vanilla scented oil all over my uggs which are not brand new, but look brand new. Just Peachy. I inhaled a quesadilla like it was my day job. I texted a few people (Oh lord I'm sorry for those conversations I can only imagine.) I had my iv fluids put in, I passed out. I woke up, had a quick skype date with one of the besties M, and then passed right back out. Writing this hasn't been easy because I'm having a drug binge hangover. But honestly, YAY! NO more painful $#!%. Or at least painful to the point of needing to be incoherent.

So its done. I did it. I'm praying that its done for good. That this will never happen to me again. Thanks for the offer but I'm completely content with 4 times. I'm ok with follow ups and check ups because I'm alive and rocking it. I still have some major recovery to go through but did I mention I did it! I've got this. As someone close to me says I'm ... no he and I BOTH are TAF! - Tough. As. F***!

SO now, reintegration back to normalcy begins! I'm ready to pull a Katniss and shoot this arrow forward that is my life! BOOM!

Flashback: January 3, 2004: How it all began.

Flashback January 3, 2004.

My parents met when they were in the seventh grade in a small town 2 hours east of Toronto. They were married, had my sister and I, and we got to live all over because my dad was a professional hockey player in the NHL. When they got divorced, we were living in New Jersey. My dad chose to return to the small Canadian town and my mum stayed in New Jersey. Initially I stayed with my mum for a few years in New Jersey, but I hated everything about it, because I felt like it hated me. I just did not fit in, and so I moved in with my dad in Canada when I was 15. I like to joke that I was raised by guys, a hockey team of sorts and its why I speak dude fluently. It was hard leaving my mum and my sister, but it worked out well for us. So January of 2004, I had been officially living with my dad since the summer, Christmas had just passed and my sister was staying with my dad and I for the holidays. My mum just so happened to be in town as well visiting her mother, my grandmother. As far as all that was concerned, the timing couldn't have been more perfect.

My dad had gotten a brand new LCD TV for the holidays and we were so excited to watch "Finding Nemo" that night. My dad was broadasting for TSN and had to be on the air the next morning, so I made sure to keep quiet so he would look good on the air, not tired. My dad had the biggest couch of all time. It was fabulous. Natalie and I snuggled up to watch Nemo. We grabbed some popcorn and started the movie. About half way through the movie, I tasted blood in my mouth. I assumed a kernel had cut my gum. I played it off as nothing had happened. My Dad was in bed by this point so my boyfriend T snuck over (we started dating a few weeks after I had moved to Canada in June- his sneaking over is not as scandalous as it sounds). When the movie was over, the bleeding had increased in my mouth but I thought nothing of it or at least tried to think nothing of it.

It was late so Natalie went to bed. I told T to sleep in our guest room, because something seemed off about the blood in my mouth but I didn't want to alarm him. That's one of my downfalls, I ignore all the warning signs because I want to assume the best, I don't ever want to burden anyone with something that could potentially be nothing. He went to sleep in the guest room, and I grabbed a large plastic cup. The blood was accumulating a lot quicker and I had to spit it out in the cup to avoid swallowing it. I remember feeling light headed and woozy but still thought it was nothing serious, because I didn't want anything to be seriously wrong. I didn't want to wake my dad up to have him take me to the E.R. for it to be just a cut on my gum from popcorn, and potentially ruin his broadcasting career. So I just kept my cup, spitting in my cup.

My room was baby blue. I had baby blue walls and sheets and a comforter with white trim. I had a white dresser with baby blue drawers and baby blue closet doors with a full size mirror. The headboard of my bed was a white picket fence my mum had picked out of a trash and refurbished for my room. I had pictures from my cheerleading days in NJ, and posters of kittens. I wore a baby blue tee that night and crawled into bed with my cup. I started coughing because I was beginning to swallow the blood that was accumulating in my stomach, there was just so much of it. I grabbed tissues to try and wipe the blood away from my face but knew I looked like a character from a low budget vampire movie. I was glad I asked T to stay in the other room, because I didn't want him to see me this way. I eventually passed out, probably from being so lightheaded.

When I woke up the next morning I instantly knew that it was worse and this was an extremely dangerous situation. I had a raging headache. Everything was blurry. My sheets were no longer blue, my walls were no longer blue. There were puddles of blood everywhere. There was a spray pattern along my sheets no doubt from coughing blood in my sleep. Everything was covered in blood. I vomited copious amounts of blood up, from everything I had swallowed in my sleep. It was early in the morning because my dad was up getting ready. At this point, I knew something was seriously amiss and I could no longer hide it, nor should I. I yelled for my sister and she came rushing in.

"Nat, please go get dad."

To which any unruly concerned little sister would reply

"WHY? Court what's wrong? Tell me?"

I choked back a yell and simply said again

"Seriously Natalie, GO GET DAD. PLEASE!"

My dad rushed in wearing a brown suit and as he walked in my doorway stopped cold in his tracks. With absolute fear in his voice stammered,

"What the hell happened?"

The first words out of my mouth were

"I'm so sorry. I don't know whats wrong with me, it started last night but I didn't want you to be tired today so I didn't say anything and I'm sorry because I think something is seriously wrong."

Tears started to flow as it became a reality that this wasn't me being stoic, but something dire and I was urgently ill. My Dad jumped into action,

"Call T and have him come pick up your sister, that way we can head to the hospital right now, I'll call your mother and have her meet us on the way."

Little did he realize that T was two bedrooms over, but I left that part out. Last thing I needed was to feel like hell AND get busted for unauthorized sleepovers in the same day. However, if I was ever going to get out of it with the sympathy vote, that day was the day. My Dad went to change and call my mum and I woke up T and explained what happened. We left immediately for the hospital. I didn't pack a bag, or bring anything. I knew I was sick but had no idea with what, and no idea how severe it was.

It was a 45 minute car ride to the hospital because we lived on the outskirts of town. It was long and quiet. I looked at my dad and said

"I don't think this is just an iron deficiency anymore."

We met my mom at the hospital and she took one look at me, and knew. It was the first time I had seen her since she arrived in town. I was pale as anything and covered head to toe in bruises. If you didn't know I was sick you would have thought someone beat me silly. There was no waiting in the E.R., they took me right back and began blood work. The doctor said he knew exactly what to test for because he was pretty sure he knew. While we waited for the tests I was starving. T went to get me Harvey's because all I wanted was a cheeseburger. When he finally got it to me, I was too weak to even lift it to my mouth. There was so much blood pooling in my stomach that I couldn't stop vomiting. They had i.v.'s running fluids but it wasn't helping. I tried to take a bite and savored it while it was in my mouth but simply could not swallow. The simplest task of taking a bite of one of my favorite foods on earth was impossible. T patiently tried to continue feeding me, but it would simply not work. The doctors came back in, and we knew they had nothing but bad news.

"We need to get her to Toronto immediately. She is DIC (disseminated intravascular coagulation) and needs blood transfusions. We can't be sure which type, or how severe but we believe she has leukemia and with out further testing and treatment she may only have a week or two. So we need to act immediately."

They arranged to have an ambulance take me to Sick Kids in Toronto, and my father rode with me. I was in and out of consciousness the whole ride. I had one of those turquoise kidney shaped puke buckets and it was full to the brink of bloody tissues. I kept spitting the blood into the tissues. I knew I was sick. I knew it was serious, but I had no idea I had cancer. If anything, I was excited at first.

My parents lived in different countries, I was the baby of the group of my friends. I was the new girl at my school, and I had an older boyfriend. I craved attention and needed any sort of validation to feel secure in my new roles in the new life I had created for myself. I thought to myself,

"I'm going to head to the hospital for a few weeks, get a lot of attention and be back and at it in a couple of weeks."

I had no idea what was ahead of me. No idea what so ever. Here I am, nine and a half years later... still wondering when I'm going to wake up from this dream. Still trying to come to terms with how this happened. Still... fighting.

The signs were all there. When I got to LCS (My high school) I was in the best shape of my life. I played on their basketball team and hockey team. I trained as hard as I could everyday and ate really healthy. In December I said to my hockey coach

"I'm so sorry, I don't know whats wrong with me. I'm training just as hard, if not twice as hard as the other girls but I am always exhausted and feel like I can't keep up."

I was taking advil like it was pez from a dispenser because I constantly had headaches. I was covered in bruises to the point, I had an adult ask me about my relationship with T. T didn't go to my highschool, because he was a cottage boy from Toronto. He was an angel and they couldn't have been more off base asking me, but based on how I looked you never knew. I attributed the bruises to hockey. I only joined the team because my school didn't have a cheerleading squad and I could skate, and well! I learned how to skate before I could walk. At the winter formal, while getting ready at a friends house, I walked into her dresser. It just grazed right below my shoulder but with in minutes I had an enormous bruise. I would think to my self when things like this happened

"Wow, I must have walked into it a lot harder than I realized."

The final give away was my period. I was always bleeding. Somedays it was so bad I couldn't go to school. My blood was clearly trying to tell me something was wrong. I just always had an excuse.

"Oh maybe I messed up my birth control. Oh Hockey was a little tough today. I have headaches because I'm dehydrated. I'm tired because I'm not sleeping enough. I can't keep up at practice because I'm not training hard enough."

T's family had looked into it and said that it sounded like I had an iron deficiency because I was not a fan of red meat. Nobody knew, but nobody wanted the reality to be true.

Canadian health care is not the best, and I will gladly and openly talk about it's downfalls. All of this was happening in November, I couldn't get a doctors appointment until January 6th. I went into the hospital on January 3. Round one. Ding Ding Ding.... and the race was off. That was how it began...