I wouldn't wish this on . . .

Isn't this what we say all the time when facing bad news. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy, or someone who has hurt us deeply. Be it bad luck, bad health, or some other misfortunate, do we really wish others such negativity, or positive outcomes in life. For me, I always say, I wouldn't wish this on my ex-husband, and truly I would not. I wouldn't wish cancer or ill health on anyone. It's just too painful and difficult.

My husband has a new wife

Not really, just one with new hair. Since he's known me, more than 12 years, I've had shoulder-length or longer auburn hair, thanks to garnier or other products. So, here I am facing chemo, and likely loss of my long thick hair. But yesterday, in my effort to come to terms, some acceptance of having cancer, and starting chemo in two weeks, I went to the hair salon, cut my hair very short, went nearly my natural grey. Cried and laughed, and waited for the shock of D.'s face when he saw me no longer with my mane of lion hair, but funky short, spiky hair. He's getting used to it, as am I, but feels as though he is married now to a new wife, with such a different look.

Can't I at least get a tummy tuck out of this?

Isn't it odd where our minds go when under tremendous stress. Mine tends to look for drama, tragedy and ultimately humor. So there I was in the hospital, the day after learning I had ovarian cancer, probably stage 3. Feeling horrible, my stomach distended, but at least I was cathaterized so I wasn't feeling the same pressure to pee but not being able to. Some good pain drugs was definitely in the mix. Then my husband and I are talking to the surgeon and he is telling me that he is going to perform a hysterectomy and probably have to re-section part of my bowel. I'm good with it, thinking and saying take out whatever you need to do to save my life, to give me a chance at seeing my 16 year old graduate from high school, college, graduate school etc. Maybe a grandchild? Then I ask whether this can be done as a minimally invasive procedure, and the doctor looks at me with his eye brows up and says definitely no, not this one as he needs to see clearly what is going on. That is when you know you're in trouble. And I was thinking, can't I at least get a tummy tuck out of this? But I didn't say it. Surgeon is a great doctor, but a bit dry and not sure of his sense of humor at that point, so I held my tongue and shared it with D. later, making him laugh instead. Who knew I would end up losing a quick 30 pounds of fluid, so the tummy tuck is not so "pressing" now.

That was one of my first thoughts when I was told I had ovarian cancer, stage 3. That morning I had taken out my box of Garnier hair color, auburn, planning to color my hair over the weekend. Clearly something was wrong with me medically, but I was definitely in denial about what was happening. I had been sick for several weeks before going to the doctor. As with most women with families, we don't care for ourselves. We work, take care of our families and homes. So there I was on June 6, 2012, getting up in the morning, stomach distended, not peeing properly, knowing now that I could not do anything but go to the doctor. He immediately sent me for a CT scan the following day, and gave me the results June 8. So, on my return home, I looked at that box of hair color sitting on the bathroom counter and said to my husband, guess I don't have to color my hair this weekend. And that is the beginning of my odyssey, through our medical system, our educational system as I advocate for my son through this and the college admissions process, and through life.