Rachel Peterson

That’s her, not me. I kept telling myself this lie over and over… The C word still ringing in my ear. Cancer? The phone call that changed my life and all I heard was Cancer… blah, blah, blah… My mind stopped cold and I couldn’t breathe. When I was 12 years old my mom told me that my “friend” would be visiting me soon. This right of passage into womanhood was a mystery to me. It would be many, many years before I would understand why this time of the month would be considered my “friend”. After several unplanned and planned EPT (pregnancy) tests, I came to see this thing as my “friend“ and my enemy. In 2002, I had a menstrual cycle that lasted 15 days. This was not so out of the ordinary for me. My whole life has revolved around my cycle, ladies you can relate. I planned my whole life around that time of the month. Some of you ladies understand the long, heavy cycles. Those days when it is best just to stay home. I always envied my girlfriends who had a 3-day cycle that was barely noticeable. I suffered many embarrassing moments at school, at work, in social situations where my cycle got out of control and embarrassed me. I was driving to Scottsdale to an appointment. It was about a 30-minute drive from our house in Surprise. By the time I reached the parking lot, I was hemorrhaging and my clothes were soaked. I had to turn around and come back home. I just thought I was having a heavy flow day but my husband convinced me to call my doctor. We set up an appointment for a biopsy to test for fibroids. The weekend before my appointment my girlfriend convinced me to go to the ER. I was still bleeding very heavily and at times I felt as thought I was going to pass out. In the ER room, nurses and doctors were shuffling around when all of sudden everyone started moving fast, every one was rushing around and before I realized it, they were asking me to sign papers to receive a blood transfusion. I would later learn that I had lost so much blood; I would have died had I not come in that night. I had an emergency D&C that night along with my blood transfusion. I went home the next day to rest. Two days later I received the strangest phone call of my life. The ER doctor called me and told me that my test results came back positive for cancer and that he had taken the liberty to schedule a hysterectomy for the following week. He asked me if I had any questions and I said no. He asked me to come in the next day for pre surgery blood work and then we ended the phone call. It was all very quick and business like. I remember just sitting at my desk at home staring at the phone as if it was a dream. After a few minutes I came to my senses. Did this doctor just call me and tell me I have cancer over the phone? I don’t even know what kind of cancer. I didn’t ask any questions I just said ok. Just then my phone rang and it was the doctor again. He said he called back to check on me and to ask me if I was home alone. I told him I was home alone, but that I would call my husband. I asked him for the official name of the cancer and what stage it was in. He told me the name; Uterine Adenosarcoma, Stage 1b. He said he would answer all my questions tomorrow when we met for my pre-surgery appointment. As my husband, my sister and my parents rushed over to the house, I was pacing the floor. I kept thinking, That’s her, not me. This is happening to some other Rachel. This is all too surreal. For the next six months I would live my life from the outside looking in. For the next few weeks, I was consumed with researching this thing, this Cancer. I surfed the Internet like a mad women reading anything and everything I could. The more I read, the more stressed out I became. The survival rate for this type of cancer started out at 10% and slowly increased it’s way to 50%. Not the odds I was hoping for, but better than the alternative. I kept thinking, that’s her, not me. This is happening to someone else, not me. I began to reflect on my life. Had I accomplished all the things I had dreamed I would? Did all of my loved ones really know what they meant to me? Had I resolved all unfinished business and did I have closure on everything? The emails, cards, letters and phone calls began to flood in as the news spread though my family and friends network. We met with doctors, my test results were even sent to Harvard Medical School for review since this cancer was so rare. I remember feeling as though I had this monster inside of me growing and growing. I was anxious to get it out and get on with life. So we went forward with the hysterectomy surgery. It was decided that I would keep my ovaries. I was only 34 at the time and did not want to go into menopause. Jeff sat in the waiting room during my operation with one of our friends. That was the longest hour and a half of his life. I came home to prepare for six weeks of recovery. I stocked up on books and after a few days of round the clock pain killers, I began my reading marathon. It was hard to sit around and let other people do everything for me. I harbored tremendous guilt. Our friends and family were so amazing. We had a hot cooked meal delivered to our house for nine days in a row. I will always be grateful for the help we received during such a stressful time. After six weeks, we went to meet with the oncologist. After knowing that the surgery was very successful and I would not have to undergo chemotherapy or radiation, it came as such a blow to us when the doctor said they found an unknown mass on my left ovary. A second surgery was scheduled. This surgery was twice as long as the first one. This surgery would also tell us if the cancer had spread. Again – I would be down six to eight weeks recovering, more work for my friends and family. More unknowns… I remember we both cried together on the drive home. Somehow this news hurt more than the original diagnosis. We prayed and asked for strength. Doctors can tell you all about what physical pain to expect; they can predict how long your recovery might last. They can tell you what physical repercussions to expect. What they can’t tell you is how you will feel emotionally. I remember feeling so at odds with the whole thing. I was happy to be rid of this cancerous monster. I was happy to be rid of my “friend”. No one warned me about the finality of losing the ability to bear children. Three months after giving birth to our second child, we decided we were done having children. My husband had a vasectomy and we began to plan our life accordingly. I had no regrets. But having that part of yourself taken away, was unnerving for me. I felt as though I was grieving some sort of loss. Holding a new baby was difficult for awhile. Even though I knew I didn’t want any more children, having the option totally taken away was a hard thing to take. three years later, Six CT scans later, I am still here. People say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I am here because of the power of prayer. I am here because I have so much to live for. You can’t control all of the things in your life but you can certainly decide to survive and thrive no matter what. I can proudly say, “It’s me, not her”! I survived and I have a story to tell.