The News

    I was in what must be one of the most beautiful places on Earth, attending the most joyous of events, the wedding of my cousin. The phone reception was bad in the room, so when the doctor called I kept losing the signal and had to run outside before she called back. The Ozarks are beautiful, but cell phone reception is notoriously bad in the mountains. After several frustrating can-you-hear-me-nows I found a spot with three bars and tried to stand stock still... I was still standing stock still as she said “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but the pathology came back and you have endometrial cancer.”  You have endometrial cancer? Who is you?

    You know how you read about people getting the bad news about the big C and they don’t remember anything else, and you think, sure... that’s not possible... I wouldn’t be like that. I’m a rational human being, who understands that cancer is survivable in the modern world, there are brand new treatments... even cures for some cancers (albeit preemptive ones). But, there I was on the phone and I know I had a further conversation with the doctor. I even made a very special effort to remember the part where she said “we made an appointment with the oncologist for Wednesday...” though I don’t think I quite caught the time... I’m going to have to call to double check tomorrow. And I also know the answer to my hysterectomy question - yes, that is the most common treatment, but we can probably save the eggs and surrogacy could be an option.

The view, about half an hour before

I think I had stopped breathing about then. I don’t remember breathing again till I had texted my fiance three times (to work and his cell) telling him to call me immediately... then I just made the call once I found four bars. I know I was breathing then, because I was gasping through tears. I was acutely aware that I was standing (literally) on a cliff, and that there were wedding guests seated about fifteen feet behind me admiring the view and the simple yet elegant decor. I could hear the anguish in his voice as he repeated, “What is it Kate?” or something like that (his elephant memory probably remembers the words, I just felt the mountains and the clouds falling in on me and my entire being sucked into a single point in space). I finally choked out, “Ca...a..cancer... it’s cancer...” and then I covered my mouth to hide the sobs. Only that morning my text said, “This place is part of my blood. We will have to come here together and bring the kids when we have them.” How naive could I be?

I know we talked some after that... I know there was some promise made to call him after the wedding... because I had to get ready... I had to tell my family. I didn’t tell him how much I needed him at that moment. I didn’t say how much I wanted his arms around me and I didn’t know how I could make it three more days until I saw him again. I didn’t beg him to try and find me a flight home immediately, no matter the cost. I determined I would be strong, I would survive, and I would get through the wedding first. And then, after I hung up, it dawned on me...my wedding was exactly 2 weeks away... almost down to the exact minute. Then I started to feel ill. Those low level cramps ramped up to severe pain and nausea and I wandered the hotel in pain looking for my mother and sister.

I believe in a supreme deity, and I believe God works in mysterious ways, that sometimes are exactly as we need it to be. For the first time in at least a decade, my family was on a trip together - just my mom, dad and sister. No extras, no boyfriends, girlfriends, fiances, etc... just my core family. And so I found them and told them - mom and sister first - mid pool game. I think I could draw the pattern of the balls on the table, because that etched into my mind as my mother hugged me so tight, I thought I would never be able to break the hug. By the time I told them, I had googled the cancer and looked up the statistics... so I could tell them about the 95% survival rate for Stage I (at this point, I still don’t know what stage I am). I told my dad, and I hugged him and didn’t want to let go. And then we all got ready for the wedding.

I plastered on a smile, and sniffed back the tears. I was grateful for the setting sun and the outdoor wedding, which allowed me to hide behind my sunglasses. The ceremony was lovely and breathtaking, and I didn’t take a single picture. I sat with a niggling fear, and an overwhelming grief of what might be lost. I knew what I would ask W when I called him after work, and I didn’t know how I could choke that out. 

At the reception, I nearly ended up split from my family, and hit a tiny nuclear meltdown inside, immensely relieved when someone made an extra place for me next to my sister. She has the gift of gab and is a diva of small talk. I knew she could carry me through if my social skills failed. I managed to laugh politely and smile when it was appropriate. I ate the food, but it all tasted like cardboard. In fact, just about everything I’ve eaten since has tasted like cardboard - though every meal I feel I’m overeating nonetheless. Then Iz came on singing “It’s a wonderful world” (or was it the Armstrong version??) and it was 9 o’clock and I couldn’t take it anymore. Tears streamed down my face as I walked the impossibly long hallway to my room. I dialed and he didn’t answer the first time, but finally did on the second call. We spoke for fifteen minutes; I watched the clock. I asked him if he still wanted to marry me, and his happy laugh was the most welcome sound in the world. I was silly... he would be there... and I thought to myself I was silly. He had already been with me these past months as I suffered the symptoms, days when my energy flagged and I couldn’t leave the house for more than fifteen minutes at a time. He just wanted me well... and he had done research.

Wayne told me what he had read, much of it similar to things I had read, but in more detail. He had done nothing but google since I had got off the phone with him and gone incommunicado. I had just not wanted to text, and as I said, cell signals were atrocious. He had told his mother and a few friends at work, and one was coming over to drink a little with him now... could I call him back in half an hour? Sure... why not?

Back to the wedding. Back to avoiding answering questions about my own wedding. Suddenly I didn’t want a wedding at all (a marriage yes - just not the bother and hoopla of the public ceremony)... suddenly I couldn’t remember what details we had planned. Dodged and weaved and smiled politely some more and then was back in half an hour. I think my sister caught the bouquet, and some other funny moment had occurred, but it blurred... there was cake (I’m sure it was delicious but it was just cardboard to me), and then I was back on the phone.

I don’t know what we talked about, and I know he had indulged, but after the third conversation of the day, I felt slightly better. I decided to change and walk with my sister to a nearby cabin for the after party. There was laughter, and discussion of bugs versus beetles (there was a very passionate entomologist in attendance) and there was just enough vodka cranberry to make me feel like I might actually sleep.  Which I finally did at some point around one or two in the morning, after a few texts with my fiance - I love you more... no I love you most... nuh huh... yuh huh... kisses... and cuddles...