A Day I'll Never Forget

It was Monday of President's Day weekend. I had just spent the weekend in Solvang, CA., wine tasting with some friends. I remember on Sunday, the last day of our trip, we stopped for lunch at a sandwich shop in town called Panino's. I love this place, but that day I barely touched my sandwich. My teeth were kind of sore. It was the first time I noticed it. They weren't killing me, but the pressure made it uncomfortable to eat. So I picked at my sandwich, didn't think much of it, and we drove home. The next day I went to work, my teeth were still sore, maybe even a little more than the day before, and the roof of my mouth felt funny, like I had burned it on some hot food. I hardly ate again that day, finished my shift, and headed home. Later that night, around 9:15pm, I was putting away some laundry, ESPN was on in the background, my teeth were still bugging me so I went to my bathroom mirror to see if I could see anything.

Today is what I call "Tumor Day." Two years ago today, I looked in my bathroom mirror and I found a lump. It was huge and definitely not supposed to be there. I didn't know what it was, but the last thing I was thinking was tumor, cancer, surgery. So many details of that day and the days that followed I will never forget. It's crazy how EVERYTHING can change in a single moment. Like the flip of a switch. I didn't call my parents right away, it was late, and I didn't even have anything to tell them, I didn't know what it was yet, if anything. Calling them now without any information would just make them worry. So I called my best friend, Erica. I was kind of freaking out, explaining to her what I saw and not knowing what to do. I hung up with her, basically took a selfie of my mouth, sent her the picture and called her right back. The picture gave me a better look at it as well. This thing was HUGE. It honestly looked like I had balls hanging from inside my mouth. No joke. Since it was late and there was nothing I could do about it now, we decided the best thing to do was go to my dentist first thing in the morning.

The week that followed was like a tornado. Dozens of appointments with doctors, surgeons, and oncologists. I had my tumor biopsied, my nose scoped, x-rays and several different scans done. So many new terms and names that I never even knew existed were all too quickly becoming part of my vocabulary. I remember lying on the bed for my first PET scan right before it started, arms above my head, freezing in the gown, thinking....how the hell did I get here? How has this become my reality? It took longer than normal for the results of my biopsy to come back. It was a rare type of tumor and they wanted another opinion so it was sent to Stanford and The Mayo Clinic --- my mom always said I was special. It took about a week for the results to come in and the cancer card was officially dealt (another day I'll never forget).

Two years ago...a thousand things. I remember the time, what was on TV, what I had for dinner, who I called, etc etc. I remember almost every detail in the days leading up to that moment and the days after. I wonder if that ever goes away? It all happened so fast, but at the same time seemed like I was in a slow moving fog. It all seemed so unbelievable, so surreal. I never really had the why me? kind of questions. Why not me? Shitty things happen to good people, they just do. I am no stranger to random ass unfortunate situations happening to me, both health wise and life wise. Seriously, I could write a book. My friends think I should call it "Seriously, WTF?!" So I gave up the why me? thinking long ago. I was way past the why me...I was mind numbingly scared.

The stages of processing or dealing with something are an interesting thing. I think the order of the stages vary from person to person, but eventually, you have to go through them all to fully get yourself to the other side. There's the numb/not processing stage, the denial stage, the anger stage, and the acceptance stage to name a few. Some stages are harder or take longer than others, sometimes you bounce back and forth from one to the other, it really just depends on the person and the journey they're on. I started off in the numb/not processing stage and stayed there for quite a while. So many appointments those first few weeks, I just simply stopped processing. You have a tumor, it is cancer, there will be a surgery, it will be awful, you will lose a portion of your mouth, you will wear a prosthetic to fill that missing portion. Here I am, 2 years later and I'm still processing it, I'm just further along on the path now. The anger stage came later, but that was specific and directed at a certain person, that's another story entirely that I'll get into some other time. For me, the acceptance stage was last and has been the hardest --- I'm still in it, not fully completed yet. I have come a very long way though, and I am very proud of myself for the progress I have made. But there are still days when I want to take my prosthetic out, throw it against a brick wall and watch it shatter to pieces. Like I said, it's a process.

Something I learned on my journey was that it was ok to be lost. I had to be ok with it because fighting it certainly wasn't getting me anywhere. If you're lost, be lost. It's ok. The best part of being lost is finding yourself. You just can't ever lose sight of the fact that you will find yourself. You have to know that, believe that, and never forget that. You will make it out. The road to getting there might completely suck and challenge you in ways you didn't think was humanly possible, but you will get there. Don't get me wrong, you have to work at it. You can't just lay in bed all day waiting around until you suddenly feel whole again. It takes work. For me, I found that it was a bunch of little things that I had to constantly and continuously do. I say little things because it was things like going outside for a walk, going to therapy, meditating, and journaling to name a few. Those are relatively easy, small tasks, but I know first hand when you're in the middle of it, just getting out of bed is a battle in itself. On days where I didn't get outside for a beach walk or weeks where I skipped my therapy session, I noticed it. I felt the slip backwards. You have to work at it, you have to stay the course, and you will get there.

I remember a day a few weeks after surgery when I was really struggling, a bunch of family was over at the house hanging out with me, as they did during those early days, and my Uncle Pete saying to me "You know you're going to be ok, Amy. You're going to get through this. You do know that, right?" He said it again, until I answered..."You do know that, right?" I held back tears and answered, "Yes." And I did know that. I never lost sight of that. I just hated the road to getting there, it was too long, too hard, and I wanted it to be over. But you have to stay the course. You will get there.

Two years ago my life changed when I looked in that bathroom mirror. This journey began in that moment. Those awful days seem like they were just yesterday and a thousand years ago all at the same time. One surgery, three prosthetic mouths, and a whole lot of ups and downs later... it all still seems like a bad dream. I still often think, did that all really happen?? It has been a roller coaster, a terrible one at that, but I feel like I'm finally off of it. But with any crazy roller coaster ride, you always get off it a little squeamish, holding your stomach and head, thinking Woah. That's where I'm at now, off the ride and still getting my bearings, but hey, that's progress!