[ad_1]
The best day of my life
From the moment Sam and I met for the first time after a meeting at the University of Bath, our relationship was like a fairy tale.
Not only was Sam gorgeous – when I first glimpsed him, I thought he looked like Tom Cruise – but he was also kind, caring and loving.
We were so happy together that I constantly told him that we were too lucky and that something was wrong.
Sam told me to stop being stupid – but still, deep inside me, I had that unbearable feeling that we might have a hard time starting a family: we did not could not be so happy and have kids too?
This is a question that I have not answered for a few years after our wedding in July 2014.
I was busy coaching myself to become a teacher and Sam worked hard to run his own business in our hometown of St Andrews.
We were just like all newlyweds settling into our happy shared life.
Two months of pain … and a five-minute diagnosis
In early 2015, shortly after my marriage, I started having stomach and bowel problems, often waking me up with constipation or painful bloating, which made me feel better. has led to more frequent visits to doctors.
Nobody discovered the cause: among diagnoses, there was irritable bowel syndrome, severe rules and food intolerances that made me cut everything from wheat to dairy products in my diet.
None of this has made a difference: in early 2017, I was often in such pain that I could barely move and my weight had dropped.
We were trying to have a family, which complicated things; a general practitioner even thought that I had an ectopic pregnancy.
In April 2017, the pain was appalling, but it was not until November that a general practitioner whom I had not seen for a long time told me that I had to go to the hospital immediately.
At Dundee's Ninewells Hospital, a colonoscopy was recommended [where a camera is used to examine the lining of the large bowel]. This is normally a 40-minute procedure, but they stopped after five minutes.
My doctor told me that they had found a large tumor and that she did not need to wait for a biopsy to know that it was occurring. from a cancer.
Hearing this word is exactly like what you see in the movies – you feel total, shocking.
At the same time, I felt a sense of relief. I had been so hurt for so long that a part of me was thinking, "OK, now I know what it is,
DRAMATIC DETERIORATION
Six days later, while I was waiting for my scans, my symptoms worsened and I was rushed to the hospital, where I was diagnosed with sepsis as a result of ## 147 ## ################################################################################## 39, a colonoscopy. The cancer treatment should wait: for the moment, I needed an emergency surgery to clear the infection.
I woke up with a colostomy bag and a stoma [an external opening of the intestine onto the abdomen].
It was something I had never heard of before, but now I had to face the fact that it might be permanent.
I do not mind admitting that I cried. I was 29 years old and I got married recently. Sam, of course, was amazing. "You'll look sexy even with a stoma," he said.
In any case, we had larger fish to fry: the tumor in my gut was a stage 3 cancer and was so big that it required radiotherapy and chemotherapy to reduce it before surgery.
In hindsight everything seemed unclear – there was so much to handle, but the worst was yet to come.
At a meeting a week later, the doctors told me that the targeted radiation therapy that my tumor required would damage my uterus, which meant that even though they could harvest my eggs, I did not could never carry a baby myself.
It was the most difficult news of all. Now I had the impression that I was deprived of my chance to be a mother. Sam m held my hand and said that whatever happens, we would be a family.
Fight to become a mother
We ONLY had a window of ten days before starting a treatment to harvest my eggs. After Christmas in the hospital, I started the hormone injections to prepare my body (Sam did it often).
In a way, it was a nice distraction. Cancer can make you helpless, but here I could do something proactive.
When I came back from the operation, it was said that the doctors had recovered ten eggs, which gave us a good chance of getting two embryos – or two chances of having one baby.
We were delighted – and even more so, when days later, our ten eggs had led not only to two embryos, but to four.
TUMOR REMOVED
By the end of January, I had to start my "chemotherapy sandwich" – six weeks of chemotherapy, five weeks of radiotherapy and six weeks of chemotherapy.
Yet, as it was becoming too common, fate had other plans. Four days after the start of treatment, I began to feel terribly sick and was again hospitalized, where I discovered that sepsis had returned.
This meant that the treatment had to stop while they were fighting the infection. I was so upset – every time I tried to make plans, life was throwing me a curve.
There was a slit of light: while my tumor was large, my consultant said they were willing to try to remove some of it by surgery.
If successful, they could eventually repair my colostomy at the same time and make it an ileostomy – which means I could be operated on to reverse it.
It was a risk, but I was ready to take it. The operation took place on February 5th, and when I woke up after nine o'clock, it was the news I had been praying for: the doctors managed to remove the entire tumor and perform an ileostomy.
I was delighted. Finally, it seemed to me that my luck was going to turn.
STARTING CHEMISTRY AND RADIATION THERAPY
I would not lie: I was scared of chemotherapy. I was scared of feeling sick and losing my hair.
During each six week cycle, I had a good week and then a bad one. I managed to make a feast for good weeks – having dinner with friends or having a party with Sam. My mother was also a tour de force.
I also had another operation to try to save my ovaries: while radiation therapy allowed me to start menopause, this operation allowed me to continue to produce eggs.
I woke up after another three-hour operation to be told that the doctors had saved an ovary, so if the harvested embryos do not work, all is not lost.
Sam and I registered on Surrogacy UK and found a long list of waiting. Still … it was a start.
A ROLL OF EMOTIONS
I ended my grueling treatment at the end of July – just in time for our fourth wedding anniversary.
First, I had an appointment for an MRI and a scanner. I expected at all clear; instead, the radiologist told me something that gave me a stomach ache: "There is something on your lung."
Sam has become white. None of us were prepared for that: the tumor was gone, I had my treatment and I felt better than a long time ago.
I could not be sick! But it seemed like the cancer was back. I thought I was going to die and that the ten minute walk to see my oncologist, Dr. Ian Sanders, was the longest of my life.
All I could think was that I did not have the strength to do it again. Sam and I were bleeding when we entered.
"Olivia, that's not what you think," Dr. Sanders said softly. "It's a blood clot." He told me that they were not uncommon after months of invasive treatment and that he could be treated with tablets to clear the blood.
I had been told that I had a blood clot – and I felt on the moon!
A BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION
We ended the day much better than we had started – with the discovery that Sam's parents had booked us for a night in a luxury hotel.
For the first time in a long time, Sam and I felt optimistic. Even though I had not yet been officially diagnosed with cancer, MRI and CT scans were good.
We even allowed ourselves to start looking to become parents. The thought of holding our baby in my arms was a wonderful counterpoint to everything we had experienced last year.
Embrace the normality
Even though we were convinced that my cancer was gone, life had shown Sam and me never to assume anything. so when August 7, the doctors told me that I was cancer free, it was one of the most beautiful things I've heard.
Finally, we could start making plans – although we first wanted to spend time being a normal 29-year-old.
It meant a few weeks to eat delicious food, watch TV and meet friends.
When you've spent months dealing with a diagnosis that has changed your life, it's funny to see how little things can excite you, even if it's as hard as going to the supermarket.
OUR RESEARCH OF A SURROGATE
I am here with the beautiful daughter of my friend Skye, born in August. Cuddling reminds us how much Sam and I want a family – but also the challenges we face.
Six months after joining Surrogacy UK, we are not at the top of the waiting list, and many surrogate mothers and parents are paired up at social events miles from home.
That's why we decided to take things in hand and make our own video call by asking for a substitute.
We know that it is a lot to ask a stranger and the thought that someone might be selfless enough to do this for us always takes my breath away.
But we hope that somewhere there will be the woman who will help us become the family we dream of.
To follow Olivia Rowlands' blog, visit oliviasgotguts.wordpress.com and for more information, visit bowelcanceruk.org.uk.
Source link
