Chocolate has been considered an aphrodisiac, a stimulant, and a go-to gift for Valentine's Day. But, in cake form, chocolate form has healing properties that fill the heart just as much as it fills out the hips. And as I ate chocolate cake for dinner today, I felt a little bit of the happiness that a delicious, smooth chocolate cake can bring...and for just a few minutes, I forgot about the other "c" words that are populating my life these days.
So I went to see the cancer doctor last week. Thankfully, he didn't once mention the words "cancer" or "tumor" or "infertility." That felt like a small victory in of itself, considering what the conga line in my head had been dancing to the days preceding the appointment and in the 45 minutes waiting in the cancer center (or centre, as Canadians call it). However, any enlightenment I had been hoping to receive as to why I've been unable to get un-pregnant for the last 7 months was not to be had during the appointment. Rather, the straight-forward doc told me that I have either (a) tissue leftover from pregnancy #1 that was embedded in my lady parts and needed a couple good visits from Aunt Flo to finally leave me the heck alone, (b) a partial mole pregnancy, or (c) a full molar pregnancy. Thankfully, these options were not indicative of anything that should reappear in future attempts of producing a little one. However, he did not know which one of the three it was.
After throwing around medical lingo for a few minutes, he said that I would need to have my blood checked weekly at their cancer clinic (note: it's about 45 minutes to an hour away from my apartment) while they performed a biopsy analysis that would take three weeks to complete. Depending on the results from all these tests and depending on if it was Option A, Option B, or Option C, he said that they would either wait for me to get back to normal and just keep an eye on me (in other words, what they have been doing the last six months) or give me a stronger dose of chemotherapy to eradicate the unwanted cells. He then said that the chemotherapy option is not one they prescribe lightly, and that they would most likely only do it in the event of my hCG levels rising over the time I'm being monitored by them. Given my history (see the last blog entry), I was not super hopeful that my levels would cooperate. It appears that I was smart in tempering my hope.
I was able to sign up this morning to check my medical records online (yay for medical advances that allow such handy tools!) and low and behold, there was my hCG level from last Wednesday. It was at 61. The previous week it was at 47. The week before it was at 45. So....if you're a mathematician or just a normal person like me, you can see that the recent trend is going in the direction OPPOSITE of what is necessary to avoid chemotherapy. Oh goodie. The handy online tool also included the letter the cancer doc wrote to Early Pregnancy doc about his visit with me, and included the name of the chemotherapy drug that they would prescribe in the event of such stupidness occurring. I did what any Google veteran would do and googled said type of chemotherapy. Holy horror show, people. Holy. Horror. Show. Things like this chemotherapy can kill tissue around its injection site, can cause complete hair loss, and you have to wait a year after your levels go back to normal to be able to try to get preggers again...among other scary side effects. Yikes. YIKES.
So what did I do post the traumatic Googling session? I ate chocolate cake. And for the record and all the mathematicians out there: Chocolate and Cake > Cancer and Chemotherapy. I go back tomorrow for another blood test, and will do so each week until July 18th, at which point I'll meet with the cancer doc again and determine the course of action for getting un-pregnant. Although I'm not a fortune teller or a prognosticator extraordinaire, I'm guessing that I will be eating chocolate cake on July 18th. Thank heavens for the little happies in life that outweigh (even if for just a little bit) the uglies we encounter.
