January 2, 2011—I was diagnosed with endometrial cancer in November, a week before our planned trip to the Northwest. Bummer.
I have always been proud (if a bit smug) about my consistent good health. My first wake-up call came in April when I discovered I had type 2 diabetes. Bummer.
I’m lucky though. I had undeniable symptoms (quick weight loss, thirst) and my physician assured me that I hadn’t had the condition for long. Diabetes is chronic and cannot be cured. It is up to me how quickly it progresses. I take one pill a day, count carbs, keep my weight down and try to exercise consistently. So far, so good. I feel great most of the time and the condition does not slow me down.
Cancer, though, that is something else again. The word itself is damn scary. After a consultation with my gynecologist, I made an appointment with a surgeon—a guy with a fine reputation for this kind of surgery. He explained everything to Jon and me and assured us that he was confident that endoscopic surgery would rid me of the cancer. If the post-surgery biopsy indicated that more malignant cells were present, I’d have to endure chemotherapy.
We scheduled surgery for December 8 and then went ahead with our plans to visit our son in Portland and my brother and sister-in-law in Boise, Idaho. I put the surgery and the cancer on the back burner and we had a wonderful time.
As soon as we returned, I was scheduled for every pre-op test imaginable including chest x-ray, ultrasounds, and countless blood tests. The 3 ½ hour surgery was successful and the surgeon said he was pleased with what he saw. The pathology report would be the final hurdle. We had an appointment to hear the results on December 19.
My recovery was excellent. I spent a week and a half sitting in a chair with my feet up watching “Real Housewives” and reading several books on my new Kindle. But after a few days I was making meals, doing laundry and other light tasks.
December 19 loomed large though. I felt numb when the surgeon said, “I have good news for you.” Just as he predicted, the pathology report was clean. Now I’m an ex-cancer patient. I’ll have frequent check-ups and various tests over the next few years, but I do not have cancer now—I hope I never have it again.
However, the diabetes diagnosis and this experience have really set my back. My health became the focal point and I’ve gotten so behind in agency work. And, between Jon’s 97-year-old mom and me, Jon, too, has let things slip.
That’s why I’m writing this blog at long last. Our New Year’s resolutions are simple: Read partials and manuscripts and report back to the authors who’ve entrusted us with their projects. Then….sell books.
Thank you for your patience. It’s a new year and we have committed ourselves to getting caught up. I look forward to many exciting publishing experiences ahead.
