Monday, July 6, 2009

Isn't It Funny...

how life can change in an instant?

It's been a challenging couple of past years for the Fox family. For the record, I do not recommend back-to-back babies with business school sandwiched in between and a third baby tacked on the end. And I have a giant dent in my living room wall (where I literally "threw the book" at Aaron) to prove it.

But lately, since Joshie arrived safe and sound and Aaron graduated and returned to the land of steady paychecks, things have been rocking along pretty good for us. So good that I often found myself saying a little prayer of thanks and wondering how long "too good" could last.

Last week, we had a wrench thrown into the works. I got a call from my doctor, who has been monitoring a cyst on my ovary since I was pregnant with Josh. It turns out that the cyst did not get the memo that it is supposed to dissolve on it's own and is in fact, getting larger, and has a "hard mass" to it. Which caused my doctor to mention that there is a teeny tiny chance it could be cancerous and has to be surgically removed ASAP.

First of all, I really feel that there should be some mathematical qualification of how "teeny tiny" a chance of cancer has to be before a doctor can just leave the word "cancer" out of an explanation at all. Because it really does not help a person feel better about the surgical procedure (however minor) that they have to undergo ASAP to think that instead of restored health, cancer may be waiting to greet them on the other end of the surgery.

It took both Aaron and me a good 24 hours to get past the shock of the surgery part of the phone call, because it was the first time in the course of a year's worth of monitoring the cyst that the word "surgery" had every been used. I stupidly assumed that it would either dissolve on it's own, as cysts are wont to do, or we would just monitor it from now until the end of time. That'll teach me not to be more proactive in monitoring my own health from now on.

Of course, surgery sucks because it involves anesthesia and a recovery process, and the potential of the entire ovary having to be removed. But ever the Pollyanna, after a day or so of wallowing, I decided to look on the bright side. After all...

-I will get to spend at least half a day or more sleeping on the day of the surgery, which is quite possibly the most sleep I have gotten in 5 years.

-I will be forbidden to lift my children (this part I will miss) or perform menial household tasks (this part I will not miss) for a week following the surgery.

-Even if they have to take one of my ovaries, it will be OK because perhaps it will slow my gush of childbearing to a slow trickle.

-My doctor has caught the (remotely possibly cancerous) cyst very early. Given that I have been pretty much been continuously pregnant for the past five years, I have enough pictures of my uterus and its various inhabitants to stage a traveling art exhibit. The little gremlin in question surfaced somewhere during Joshie's pregnancy, so we've been monitoring it since it appeared.

-Most importantly, the person that has to be poked, prodded, and cut is me and not one of my children. Although Aaron was quick to point out that it would be highly unlikely for one of our children to have an ovarian cyst, but you get the point.

All that to say, I'm nervous as hell about the surgery even if I am trying to focus on the positives. I know it will likely all be fine and even if it isn't, I know it will all work out according to God's plan for me.

I've never been more grateful for the flurry of small children in this house that keep me too busy and too tired to do much thinking.

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