If something has to change, Then it always does. If something has to give, Then it always will. You don't need this disease, Not right now. Editors - Bullets “You have an early stage of cervical cancer. Nothing to worry about. For most people, it takes a very long time before it changes into a malignant tumor. In your case, it did a little faster. Fortunately, you go for a pap smear every year. That way, we are in time.” It's a bit like that terrorism threat. We are at the highest level of alert. Better be safe than sorry. Men carrying Kalashnikovs in armored tanks crowd the streets. So it might be safer if you stay inside. But don’t worry, because there’s no need. Just stay calm. Say whaaat? It’s not like someone knows what I have exactly anyway. Least of all me. It’s not like I’ve ever felt that I had an early stage of cancer. On the contrary. I’ve never really felt anything in my stomach. I sometimes wonder whether anyone knows what I have. Do I actually have cancer or not? In any case, the it-might-be-cervical-cancer diagnosis scares me. Even though it’s an early stage. Even though the tumor is not yet malignant. Even though they found it in time. The only thing I could hear loud and clear is the word “Cancer”. Who can promise me this not-yet-malignant-form-of-maybe-cancer isn’t already setting booby traps all over my body? After taking a biopsy, followed by the reassuring words ‘you might not even need surgery', the results turned out to be less reassuring. On the contrary. I needed surgery, and I needed it quickly. I tried to argue that I was booked for a job on the proposed date. “Madam, I don’t think you realise how serious this is”, still echoeing in my head. The operation was planned asap, but my body decided to start a counter-offensive on its own. I developed a bad case of laryngitis that made swallowing nearly impossible and limited breathing to a select number of postures. The right side of my neck was so swollen that it seemed as if my head continued directly onto my chest. When I went to the hospital two days later, hoping to have the tumor removed, the on call nurse threw a panicked look at the anaesthesist. During a procedure under general anesthesia they shove some kind of tube down your throat. Not the brightest idea when your patient has an acute case of viral laryngitis. The surgery was cancelled immediately. I was put on two weeks of bedrest and heaps of antibiotics, a whole box of dafalgan codeine (4 doses per day. Trippy.) and other kinds of kill or cure remedies. I didn’t think I could feel worse than when I found out I had cancer. Well, it turned out I was wrong. During the few lucid moments I had those days, I thought about how life would be for my dog and my little daughter when I would no more be there. I went about it in a very practical way and I decided that "Epic" by Faith No More would play on my funeral. It would also be grand if Mike Patton were to show up as master of ceremonies (anyone feeling the urge to fix that one for me? Thanks). Besides that, I mainly tried to lay as still as possible since every move I made was just horribly painful. My friends came to look after me. Fresh soup was cooked in my kitchen, the dog was let out, blankets were thrown over me and they even put tea with a dash of honey inside next to my sickbed. Not that I noticed any of that. I was out of this world. My own Sarah in Maliceland, filled with pills and misery. Just wishing I’d die already. I didn’t need some killer virus Airbnb’ing inside my belly to eat me from the inside. I’d take a quick death. Because what good does it do to be alive if you’re not even able to breathe without suffering excruciating pains? But, as those things go, the mini-me that lives on my left shoulder kicked me in the butt and told me to go on. An art I master as no other, if I may say so myself. Cut your losses and run. Once I escaped the IHaveCancer-cave, I started to talk about it with my friends. And I noticed that I wasn’t the only one with this story. Cervical cancer is an STD and there are quite some girls and women that have or had HPV-16. Yeah, that’s right. Cervical cancer is an STD. You get it by having sex. I didn’t know either. Well thanks for that, asshole. Meanwhile, I’ve had my surgery. Tomorrow I’ll hear whether I’ll need more. It’s mainly the waiting that’s driving me insane. Patience is not my greatest talent. And yet, it’s a talent I will need to develop. Because I’ll need a check-up every six months, whether they tell me I need more surgery or not. Every six months I’ll have to wait to hear whether the maybe-cancer has come back. But hey, it takes a lot more to take me down.
I’m dead serious when I say I plan to cycle against cancer. I’ll literally pedal the cancer out. Granted, there’s no scientific evidence backing my theory, but there’s no evidence against it either. And in the meantime, I consider it a new-found project to throw myself into. I see it as a lesson in priorities. All work and no play makes Sarah a dull girl. However much I love my job... The moral of this story : * Get yourself, your sister, your girlfriends and your daughters to go for a pap smear every year. Had I waited for three years, I would be on chemo right now. * As long as you’re not sexually active, you can get a vaccin against the HPV-virus. GET ONE. I didn’t know. You do now. * Don’t do too many things you don’t want to do. Life’s too short. To be continued. Love, peace and pedaling! Sarah Boo
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