B.C.

First day back at work after my trip to Croatia. Coffee on empty stomach as usual. (I still do that - don’t judge me)

Before Cancer.
Before Carl.
Before Chemo.

For the last 38 years my parents have referred to B.C. as “before children.” It has been their marker of when everything changed. I can’t imagine why having 3 children is really that different! (If you didn’t pick up on the sarcasm please note I am not that dumb to think a child, let alone 3 doesn’t change anything.) You know what I’m talking about. We all have those life events that separates the before and after. A marriage. A baby. A graduation. I used to think it was my year in LA. That is obviously no longer the case. 

I get asked a lot if I had a history of stomach problems or I noticed anything out of the ordinary leading up to my diagnosis. To quote the best thing Riley has ever said, “I did but I did not.”  I never had a history of stomach problems. My bowel movements were regular and at a similar time each day. Besides Heather and Stefanie for constantly making fun of me for the time they occurred, it was totally normal. I never felt that anything was seriously wrong with me. For about a year before my diagnosis I would occasionally get a very quick, sharp pain in my stomach. Like seriously quick - maybe a couple seconds at most. It would be at a different time and not every day. I always had an excuse because it was so fleeting. I had coffee on an empty stomach. I ate A LOT of cheese. I did a really intense ab workout. I was anxious to find a new job. Also, no one can tell you how your own body is going to change as you get older. There are general things most people experience but everyone is different. I mean, I knew it was harder to lose weight, I preferred relaxing wine nights with friends instead of going bar hopping and I really liked being in bed by 9:30 on a weeknight. I assumed random stomach aches came along with being in my 30’s. 

It was the 3rd to last day of my trip to Croatia and we were spending the day at the beach in Hvar. I was floating in the Adriatic Sea and it just hit me; I hadn’t had a stomach ache in almost 2 weeks. I was convinced it was stress and anxiety that had caused the sporadic pains. I wasn’t worrying about my job or about the applications and cover letters that had consumed my life. Who could not feel anything but relaxation in the crystal blue waters on a perfectly sunny 80 degree day while on vacation with their friends?!?! I wanted to live in that moment forever. I didn’t want to think about it too long and jinx myself. 

Life went on and my tiny, random blips of pain slowly returned. And then came a random day in May 2019 that changed everything. I had finished a poke bowl for lunch from my usual place in Turnstyle about an hour before I felt an extremely sharp pain that did not go away. I’ve had my appendix out and a few years of periods to know when sharp pains are something serious. I remember being doubled over at my desk and my supervisor Mike asked if I was ok. I shook my head and said I really didn’t feel well and was going to go home early. I walked as fast as I could to the bathroom and emptied the contents of my stomach. I still felt like complete shit. I gathered my things and went downstairs to Duane Reade to get ginger ale & gatorade for the trip back to Jersey. I really had no idea how I was going to make it home without throwing up. It was not a good situation.

Somehow I survived the 45 minute bus ride and 1 mile walk. There were a few close calls. I was violently sick the rest of the afternoon and figured it was just bad fish. I laid in bed trying to relax and sleep it off. I got sick again in the middle of the night thinking that had to be the end of it. As I walked back to my room I fainted. I remember waking up and just wanting to stay asleep on the carpet because I was too exhausted and weak to move. I was dehydrated and had nothing left in my system. My dad found me at some point and put me back to bed. I called out sick the next day. I still had a sharp pain in my stomach and I was convinced I pulled a muscle while throwing up. My mom had told me to go to the doctor but I insisted I was fine. That was the day I got my offer letter from my current job. I remember reading it and being so ecstatic to finally move to DC. I was so excited but couldn’t properly express it because I was so exhausted. After a day of the BRAT diet and naps, I felt much better and happily accepted their offer. I had something new and thrilling to look forward to. That was also the day I decided to cut out coffee from my diet. I figured I might as well try to prevent any future pains in any way I could. I firmly believe iced tea cures everything so it would be my go-to morning drink. (side note - I have since started drinking coffee again once I learned it wasn’t the problem) I went back to work and started to quickly get my life together to move down to D.C. I was ready to start my non-coffee life in the nation’s capital.

June 10, 2019. The last B.C. photo I took.

Those couple days are days I try very hard not to think about. It’s something I’m actively working through in therapy. I had no reason to suspect it was anything other than food poisoning or a stomach bug. I’m not someone who runs to the doctor every time something comes up. There are moments or hours or days when I’m so mad and upset with myself for not listening to my body or my mom I hadn’t gone to the doctor. I’m working on accepting that I did not have the information then that I have now. Past Jen didn’t know she had cancer in her body. Current Jen knows that. Current Jen has yet to invent time travel so she will just have to do the work to change her thought process. 

Mostly women would ask me if I had any issues with my monthly visitor. A few brave men did inquire as well. That was always a firm no. When I first got the approximate dimensions of Carl, I was shocked that I somehow managed to be regular for so long. And then I saw Carl. (I asked for a photo - it’s not as weird as it sounds. Ok, yes it is but I’m not the first person to ask for one.) I truly did not understand how my body was functioning regularly for as long as it did. My doctors didn’t either.

I first got my period when I was 13 but it didn’t get it consistently until I was 16. Totally normal for girls. I had started birth control which helped with keeping it regular and the really bad cramps I would get. For some reason in my 20’s I went off birth control - I honestly cannot remember why I made that decision. Everything stayed the same and I had no problems or worried something was wrong. It came every 28 days and lasted 5 days. Day 2 was my worst day. As I entered my 30’s, it changed ever so slightly. It came every 25 days but only lasted 4 days. Day 2 continued to be the fucking worst. Again, nothing had given me any indication something could be wrong.

I remember the look of shock on my gynecological surgeon & gynecologist’s faces when I said I was super regular. I offered to show them my period app like that would prove I wasn’t lying. My right ovary carried on every other month doing her job like the total HBIC that she was. I was told that a pap wouldn’t have guaranteed to pick up that anything was amiss in my lady parts. So I felt only a little less bad about being behind on my gyno related tests. I still feel bad, don’t you worry. I still feel angry with myself for not being consistent with my appointments but again, past Jen just didn’t know.

I lived a whole life before Carl came into existence. I thought I had my life figured out.  I moved across the country and back again. I changed careers a couple times. I became an AJ 5 times. I saw friends get married and have babies. I dated guys who were not right for me. I realized I did not have my life figured out. And then came cancer. And I’ve had a whole life since then. I’ve celebrated engagements and birthdays and babies and all the other life things. I’ve dated (another story for another day). I’ve made DC my home. I’ve even started this blog. 

Everyone has their own B.C. and the life before that is important. It helps shape us. It is our jumping off point. But it’s what we do after that truly matters. We grow and we learn from that one defining moment. Don’t regret doing or not doing anything. Live the life that makes you happy and brings happiness to those around you. My life before Carl was far from perfect; neither is my life now and that’s totally ok. Both lives have been filled with happiness and laughter and love and friendship. Isn’t that the point of it all?