June 13th aka the worst day of my life

This was me on a bad day a couple months ago. It’s the best visual representation I could find.

I was going to post this on my cancerversary. Add that to the list of words I don’t like. Another one that just doesn’t sit well with me. But I just couldn’t finish writing this. As much as I don’t like it, it’s the truth; June 13th is my least favorite day of the year. (Sorry to my sister in law, Danielle, whose birthday it also is.) June 13, 2019 feels like it was a million years ago and yesterday all at the same time. There are so many tiny details that I can still recall that are of little importance. And at the same time, the big moments are a little hazy. I tried for at least 2 months to write about this day but I just couldn’t get the words out. It was just too much mentally. There seems to be some huge difference between talking about it compared to typing it out. Still working through the acceptance of my situation so it probably is something related to that. (This seems to be a topic for my therapist to deal with in the future so add this to the list Dr. Trevino.) So here goes.

I was going to do a separate post about the week leading up to June 13th but I think I can quickly sum it up. On Sunday, June 9th, my friends were celebrating Ina’s birthday on a boat she rented for the day. I was staying with Rohini at the time and we were getting all the party favors and snacks packed up in the morning. I was feeling a little off but just attributed to the DC allergies and getting used to living in a new space and the stress of moving. The excitement for the day pushed away any unwell feelings. I am not a person who gets motion sickness or sea sick but halfway through the day my stomach started to bother me. I attributed it to the cocktail we had made for the occasion. It was a twist on the French 75 (which I love) but not as good. I switched to champagne and was able to eat a few snacks. I was exhausted once we got back and wasn’t hungry for dinner so I just went to bed early. The next morning as I was brushing my teeth I threw up. It was a similar color to the drink so I figured it just hadn’t agreed with me and that was that. I felt a little better and went to work. Tuesday & Wednesday the same thing happened. I felt a little off but figured it was just a stomach bug. I went to work as usual. 

Wednesday night our office took a work out class together at Pulse Fitness. For half an hour it was circuit training which I was able to do better than I thought. I wasn’t at my best but I was keeping up. And then it was a half hour using the VersaClimber. (For those of you who don't know what it is - it’s like if a stairmaster & spin class had a baby.) Holy crap. It was way more difficult than I had thought. After the class, I could barely keep up with my co-worker Michelle to the metro. Every step caused my stomach to hurt more and more. The walk home from the metro was like an extra workout class I did not sign up for. I took a shower, laid on the couch to try and relax while watching trashy tv and went to bed early that night.

Thursday morning I woke up with a really bad stomach ache and threw up a lot more than I previously had. This time I still felt actually sick. I remember getting dressed was exhausting. It was kind of cold and rainy so I remember wearing jeans, a cute t-shirt and bringing a light jacket with me just in case. I walked really slow to the metro which was impressive considering it was a downhill walk and that did not help in any way. 3 stops later I clung to the escalator going up at the Shaw exit knowing I had a 15 minute walk ahead of me. I got to the top and I immediately was doubled over. I mustered some energy to go into 7-11 to get a ginger ale figuring that would cure me of whatever I had. I literally shuffled my way to the office. I put on a brave face and started my day. 

I was still in training for my job and had only been there 3 weeks. Trying to listen and remember what was being taught to me seemed almost impossible. Each email or task took more and more energy from me. By 11 I was done. I asked my coworker Lydia if she had a doctor or urgent care she liked. She recommended Farragut Urgent Care and planned on going during my lunch break. I sat at my desk for a few more minutes and realized there was no way I was going to make it another couple hours. I told my team I was going to take an early lunch and go get checked out. I called a Lyft and made the trek from Shaw to Foggy Bottom. I figured they would tell me it was just a stomach bug and I would be back at my desk in an hour. Oh, I was so, so wrong.

I called Jessica outside the urgent care to let her know where I was and see what her schedule was like that day just in case I needed her. She had a full day of filming but told me to keep her posted. They took me back pretty quickly to the exam room. I remember thinking it’s just going to be a quick thing and it’s just a bug and it’s no big deal. I was so mad that I was feeling sick so soon after moving. The doctor soon came in and she was so nice and caring. Some extra motherly love made me feel a bit better. She did her exam and asked me some questions to try and rule out some things. Wasn’t my appendix - had that out freshman year of high school. She asked me when my last period was - June 5th-8th. On time and nothing out of the ordinary. She told me it could be something obstructing my bowel or a cyst on my ovary. She told me she didn’t have the machine needed to check what was going on and told me to go to the ER. My heart stopped. What the fuck just happened? That escalated really quickly. She definitely saw the emotions on my face and told me it was better to get checked out there because they could do more tests. And then she said what is now the most ironic comment of this experience. “I’m not saying it’s cancer but there is something wrong and it’s best to get it looked at right away.” Dr. Ida Bergstrom, if you only knew! She then told me she wanted me to go to Sibley Memorial Hospital instead of GW. She asked if I knew why. I had no clue, it wasn’t like it was Friday the 13th and the ER would be filled with weird injuries. She said it’s because GW is a teaching hospital and all the new interns and residents would be starting and she didn’t want me dealing with that. And then she told me if her daughter was in my shoes she would send her to Sibley and gave me a big hug. And that was the first time I cried that day.  

I called another Lyft to take me all the way up to the Palisades. I immediately called Heather. It was a weekday and obviously she would be busy but I didn’t know who else to call. By some miracle they had a professional development day and she was working from home. She was going to meet me at the hospital. I texted Jess with the update so she knew what was going on. You’re probably asking yourself, Jennifer, why have you not called your mother yet!?!? Well smart person, I didn’t want her to worry. I had just moved and didn’t want her to panic any more than she already was. If it turned out to be nothing, I would have just told her I went to urgent care and it was just a little bug and now I’m fine. I would wait until I had a definite answer. I then had to let my supervisors know what was going on. The guilt and embarrassment was outweighing the pain in my stomach. Or making it worse. It was hard to tell at that point.

I got to the hospital and there was literally only 1 other person waiting. It was very strange. I think I waited no more than 3 minutes before they took me back. I was brought back into a sort of holding area where a nice nurse took my vitals. I remember he asked me what my weight was and I guesstimated on a number. I hated the scale, I hadn’t looked at one in weeks. He told me to guess and we’d see how off I was. I was 5 lbs lighter than I thought. Probably from not really eating that week. Still didn’t love the number but it was going down so that was a small bright spot in my day. I told the nurse that my best friend was on her way and she should be there shortly so he had to make sure she was able to get back to me.

As soon as I finished getting changed into the beautiful hospital gown Heather showed up. Immediately I felt better that I had her there. And at the same time felt guilty I made her schlep all her work stuff to a hospital to sit with me. She told me to stop being stupid and started telling me funny things her students said/did to make me laugh. Around this time the doctor came in to meet with me. Since I was a woman who had her appendix out the best option would be an ultrasound to see what was going on. For that, I needed to be filled with fluid so I was hooked up to an IV and told to wait a while. I apologized to both the doctor and nurse that I hadn’t shaved my legs. I wasn’t expecting anyone to see them that day. They told me there were legs far worse than mine in a lot of the other rooms. I let out a small giggle of relief. During this time I was getting so frustrated about the whole situation. I tried to not let my mind wander to the worst case scenario but I’m human and I went there. Obviously you are all aware that I love a good curse word(s). And during this time there were more than the average coming out of my mouth. Heather decided the best way to help me was to encourage it. She told me about a recent podcast episode she had listened to on “This American Life” about the power of curse words. They had found in a recent study that people who had cursed while doing a challenging activity increased their strength by 5%. I thought this was the greatest thing. We called them my power words. I would curse and feel more powerful each time. Mind over matter!

After a while someone finally came to take me back to the ultrasound. I had to leave Heather behind and put my imaginary big girl panties on and go in with a brave face. I’ve had ultrasounds before. I knew nothing was going to hurt me while I was in that room. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself back down. The very nice ultrasound tech made small talk with me in the beginning to try and make it less awkward. It wasn’t any less awkward. And then it was time for the pelvic ultrasound. The small talk stopped and I kept staring at the clock hoping it would end as soon as possible. It was so uncomfortable but I didn’t want to feel like a wimp or complain it wasn’t a pleasurable experience. Each time she moved the wand it hurt so much. Every so often she would ask “Are you sure you were only having symptoms for 5 days?” And every time I would respond with “Yep. Just the last 5 days.” I couldn’t see anything on the screen but somehow I felt like it was taking longer than normal. Every time she asked about how long I had the symptoms, my positive thinking began to wane. I can still picture her writing her findings while I waited for the orderly to take me back to my room. Her back was to me but there seemed to be an excessive amount of typing. I tried to keep my thoughts positive on the way back to the room but deep down I knew something wasn’t right.

When I came back to the room Heather and I each filled the other in on what we had both been up to for the better part of the hour. We didn’t end up waiting long before the doctor and the nurse came back in. He asked if Heather could be in the room while he gave me the results. I was stunned for a second; of course this person could be here! Did he think I brought a rando into the hospital with me? The doctor stood at the end of the bed and told me they found a large, malignant mass on my right ovary. At this point Heather jumped up from her chair and grabbed my hand. I asked if there was a chance it wasn’t cancer and he said he was almost 100% certain it was due to the size and shape. At this moment, I had a real out of body experience. I could feel my brain and heart and soul leave my body and hover around the ceiling. All I could think was “Huh. I guess this is what it’s actually like to be told you have cancer.” Heather started asking questions because I couldn’t formulate words yet. I couldn’t believe she was able to ask all the questions that needed to be asked. How was she so calm right now? How did she know what to ask? After a few minutes he let me know that as an ER doctor there wasn’t much more he could do and was referring me to a gynecological oncologist.

All I remember him saying after that was he was going to leave me to call whoever I needed to call. My hands shook as I dialed my mom. She didn’t answer. I texted her it was an emergency and she needed to call me. My phone rang immediately, she was on the bus on the way home from work. I quickly ran through what happened. I don’t know how I got the words out. I don’t know how she kept her voice quiet. I felt like I was in some television show and saying the words that belonged to someone else. My dad was next, at least he answered right away. Again, I don’t know how I was actually getting the words out. Stef and Marc were next and neither answered. I told them it was an emergency and they needed to call me NOW. All four calls were not what I had expected. There was a lot of silence. No crying, just shock. I told them I would call them when I got home and go over everything in detail. The nurse came back in to tell me I needed to finish up because they needed the room. I told her it would just be a couple minutes more. BUT HELLO!!!!! I just found out I have cancer and 10-15 minutes is all I get. What the fuck? Meghan and Jessica were my last two calls from the hospital room. I was dreading both. They each lost their mothers to cancer and now I had to deliver my news. I don’t know how I held in the tears. I don’t even know how I spoke cohesive sentences.

Finally, it was time to leave and start the process of figuring out what the fuck I was going to do. I remember having to put my jeans back on and thinking I am so uncomfortable right now, I can’t believe I have to wear pants. Totally normal thought, right? This next part you know, this is where the naming of Carl happened. If you’re behind, you can read it here. This poor Lyft driver had no idea what he was going to be forced to listen to when he accepted the ride. We looked at the paperwork they had given me so we could see what we missed and what we needed to do. We read the results of the ultrasound and I finally understood when he said a large mass; it was 16.9 x 8.9 x 19.9 cm. For those who are not familiar with the metric system, it translates to 6.7 x 3.5 x 7.8 inches. We kept saying how is this in my body? How did I not know? How was my body still functioning? Before I knew it we were back at my apartment so I could get some things. Heather insisted I sleep over her place that night. I threw some clothes and toiletries into a bag and just stood in the hallway. How was this even happening? The next thing I knew, Heather had her arms around me and we just stayed like that for a few minutes while my body was able to move again.

The hospital didn’t give me anything for the pain but told me I could take tylenol to help. I hadn’t eaten all day so Heather forced me to eat ANYTHING before taking the meds. I had no appetite. Nothing sounded good. We walked into WaWa figuring the junk food would be better than nothing. Nope. Candy, chocolate, chips; it all seemed so unappetizing. I settled on chicken fingers. We went upstairs and I choked 1 down. That was all I could manage. The 3 extra strength tylenol made their way into my system but didn’t really do anything. I then remembered I had to tell work what had happened. I sent a text because I couldn’t find the strength to make another call and go into the details. It was also getting late so didn’t know the rules of reaching out after hours. There was a lot of facetiming with my family to be had and I knew that was going to be rough. Those calls with my family were filled with a lot more crying. It was getting late and nothing could be done at that hour so we decided tomorrow we would make an appointment at Sloan. Tomorrow we would make more plans because no one could really think straight at this point. Tomorrow seemed like a new life I didn’t want to begin.

Finally, the worst day of my life was coming to an end. Laying in bed, I was so grateful I had Heather and thanked her profusely. I also apologized for her having to live through the worst moment of my life with me. My mind was spinning. Everything seemed so overwhelming. How was I going to go on with my life tomorrow? How did I go from thinking I had a bad drink to having cancer? Why me? What did I do wrong? My thoughts wouldn’t stop. We decided the only way to stop my downward spiral and to end the day was with some power words. So I let out my best, “what in the actual fuck you mother fucking piece of shit.” Finally my body gave in and I passed right out. 

*Today, July 5th, 2021 marks the 3 year anniversary that Heather and I discovered the story about Carl. It only seems fitting that I was finally ready to finish this today.