Round 2? Fall 2024 is a Sh*tshow.

A week ago, SK and I took the horde to Disney World as a way to honor his mom and make memories. It was amazing and exhausting. First time flights were had, boundaries were stretched, new foods tried, rides were ridden, shops were shopped, and ultimately feet were tired out. I averaged twelve thousand steps per day, which is about fifteen thousand more than normal (ok, that’s hyperbole, but still, my feet cried a little every evening). It was awesome. We all agreed that a full week of Disney is a once in a lifetime trip, meaning we never need to do that many days in a row ever again (we’re all introverted enough that the crowds and activity get to be a lot for all of us).

The rest of this post is a mix of medical TMI and political stuff, so feel free to skip it.

Before we left, I’d had a minor surgery to remove and biopsy a uterine polyp. I’ve been on a hormone blocker since I finished chemotherapy in 2020. One of the known side effects of the medication is a higher risk of endometrial cancer. Isn’t that fun?

So, the last couple years I’ve gotten to have a super fun ultrasound before every annual OBGYN exam. Because being a person with girl parts is super. fun. Anyway, after much rigamarole (and assurances that the polyp my doc saw in the ultrasound is probably nothing but it should be removed to be sure), I ended up having the fastest general anesthesia surgery ever in early October.

They still forced me to take a pregnancy test. I’m still pissed about it.

Anyway. It wasn’t nothing. And so, here we are having round two sort of, because my doc called to say “it’s NOT cancer, but it’s pre-cancerous cells” which is exactly what happens when this hormone blocking medication has the side effect that causes endometrial cancer. So. I have a second oncologist. I have a second round of more major surgery with a longer recovery time. And, as it turns out, statistically I have a 25 – 50% chance that there’s cancer lurking in my unused and rather annoyingly problematic uterus, since a biopsy is a very tiny sample.

Of course, since there’s no way to know for sure until after said organ is yanked out through my bellybutton, I’m essentially Schrodinger’s endometrial cancer patient?

Also, I keep seeing this whole surgery as that scene from The Matrix when they pull the bug out of Neo’s bellybutton in the back of the car. I mean, my oncologist said it’s a robot that does the surgery…just sayin.

I’m not super impressed by any of this, but it’s also a contained space that my oncologist is confident will be handled by surgery and moving along with maintenance visits, just like I do now with my BC oncologist. And, by doing a full hysterectomy I’ll be 1) protected from both uterine and ovarian cancer potentials and 2) partially protected from the upcoming project 2025 horrorshow the orange shitgibbon is planning on inflicting on women, because I just won’t have the parts anymore. Then again, I suppose that makes me valueless to the project 2025 assholes, doesn’t it?

Yeah. The hard evidence of the country I live in being so irrefutably full of racists, misogynists, and generally selfish, ignorant assholes would be disheartening anyway. As SK adroitly put it on Wednesday morning, people seem to have voted for the person who allows them to be their worst selves. To see that on top of the health scare (followed up by my annual mammogram today, which is always accompanied by some level of PTSD) is…well. It’s been an overwhelming, terrifying, sad week.

I’d like to say it’ll all be ok, but I can’t say that, because Schrodinger’s disaster (oh, did I just compare the shitgibbon to cancer? Infuckingdeed I did.). But if we’re going into round two, we have more of an idea of what’s coming, and we know how to support each other. We know how to endure. We know that it’s hard but sometimes necessary to cut people out who steal our energy and peace and don’t treat us with the respect kindness we deserve.

We know how to endure. We know how to help. We can do this, together.