As Jacquelyne Froeber tells
January is the month of clarification about cervical cancer.
I stood in the Walmart cassage when my phone rang. It was my gynecologist.
“Karen, her papal test showed abnormalities-you have to come to a biopsy,” she said.
I sighed. Here we go again.
I was diagnosed with breast cancer eighteen months earlier. Fortunately, we recognized it early, but it was still cancer. At that time I was 46 years old and saw no need to keep my breasts if they wanted to kill me, so I had a double mastectomy undergoing.
I had hoped that my decision for the operation would contribute to keeping the cancer in check, but since I was a nurse, I knew that the abnormal test results did not sound good.
And I was right – I had cancer cells around my cervix. The surgeon removed the tissue during a cone biopsy, but I had to wait three months for healing before I could have a scan carried out to see if new cancer cells grew.
The next step was to visit a gynecological oncologist to talk about my other options. My partner Karen and I – yes, we both are called Karen – met with the doctor and went through the test results. Then I attracted one of these beautiful paper coats. When the doctor returned to the room and said “Karen”, we weren’t sure who he spoke to.
“I’ll call you put on Karen,” he said, pointing to my partner. “And you, Karen, took off you,” he said to me for obvious reasons.
Karen and I broke out in laughter. It was the perfect comment on the perfect time.
I was grateful for all the support and love that I received from my care team, my family and my friends, but the next three months were really hard for me. My nurse brain was plagued by compulsive fear around the clock. As with a morbid Frogger game, I jumped from diagnosis to diagnosis. It was a pain to believe that cancer may grow in my body, and I am just the thing to look at … repetitions of “Friends?”. I felt helpless because I couldn’t do anything about it.
I had recently started a new job in healthcare, which helped me to deal with. When the three months were around and I finally had the follow -up examinations, my fears were confirmed: Cancer cells grew and I had a radical hysterectomy.
On the day of the operation, my doctor said that there would be a catch: If the contrast medium that they gave me before the operation would show that the cancer migrated to my lymph nodes, they would not do the hysterectomy and I would have to use chemotherapy and radiation Start immediately.
When they rolled me into the operating room, I noted the time and hoped that I would wake up free of cancer hours later.
When I came to myself, I looked at the clock and found that not much time had passed. Nevertheless, I smashed my stomach and pelvic area – no incisions. I sank back to bed and listened to the short beep of the monitor next to me. And then I screamed so loudly I could go to my pillow.
I was destroyed. And the thought, my son, Karen and everyone I knew to have to say that I have cancer – again – was almost too much to grasp my brain. But as a nurse, I was used to making a good face even when things fell apart. So I did that.
My treatment plan was aggressive: six chemotherapy sessions and 25 radiation rounds.
At first I was excited when I found out that chemotherapy would not lead to the hair that would fail, but I would have shaved my head myself if I had not struggled with the paralyzing nausea and the diarrhea “Called.
One morning, about in the middle of treatment, I got such strong stomach cramps that I could no longer get up. My fingers were bent and curved inwards, and Karen had to drive me into the emergency room.
My blood test showed that I had extremely low magnesium and potassium values. That doesn’t sound too serious, but I asked to be accepted – I felt that bad. The only good thing about the fear was that I took new medication to relieve the extreme side effects of chemotherapy and radiation. And I felt better – or as well as possible when you go through treatment.
After chemotherapy and radiation were over, I went back to work and tried to continue as usual. But I was physically and mentally exhausted. I only got ready slowly with my daily care tasks and one afternoon my son had to pick me up because I had a panic attack. After all, I lost my job, which seemed like the end of the world at the time, but it turned out that it was the best for me.
I had put on my “wrong face” for so long and tried to be strong that I didn’t know how to be vulnerable. Fortunately, Karen made me aware of my fake and then I started to be honest and take advantage of advice. I also joined a group of survivors of cervical cancer on Facebook and one day I met with a member to drink coffee.
Karen at a Cervivor event, 2022
When we talked about our experiences, a light opened in my head. I felt like this alone – as if I was the only person in the world who would have cervical cancer. But I wasn’t alone. It was as if the last piece of the puzzle had been found and everything clicked. I realized that I was still a nurse and still could help people, only in a different way.
Today I am ambassadors of the Cervivor patient representative. I also lead Cervivor Pride for surviving sexual and gender minorities (LGBTQIA+). My goal is to offer everyone who has/had cervical cancer, support and advice because I am an open book and would have done many things differently during treatment (hello, therapy and a better diet).
Eight years have passed since my diagnosis and I am happy to be able to say that I have no signs of illness. But I make sure to adhere to my annual appointments. Cervical cancer is insidious and I know that he can come back at any time. And although I find “karen undressed” absolutely funny, I will take “Karen no Evidence of Disease” every day.
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Our “real women, real stories” are the authentic experiences of women from real life. The views, opinions and experiences shared in these stories are not supported by healthwomen and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of healthwomen.
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