Our trip to Greece now in question, it had become something more than just a fabulous vacation and a time to reconnect. We needed this trip… to be together, to recoup, to gather our strength as a family for what lay ahead. A week before we were scheduled to leave, we met with the Doctor at Boston IVF, who told us that if we were able to harvest any eggs, the procedure would have to be done during the coming week, and we would not be able to go to Greece. We were scheduled to return July 27th, with chemo scheduled to begin July 29th. Prolonging treatment any further was too great a risk.
The Doctor stressed to us that there were no guarantees that IVF would enable us to have another child. Before my diagnosis, my intent was to have another baby – I wanted it more than anything. I went home that night, awaiting test results from the clinic, feeling as though I had to make a choice between another child, and a trip my family so desperately needed. In my head, I knew that it wasn’t that simple, but my heart ached. I’ve often had people tell me how strong I’m being, or how well I’m doing, and I wonder “what else would I do? Curl up in a ball and cry?” I’d rather make the most of things and have a little fun. With a little humor, I do my best to avoid that moment when it all comes crashing in, when the enormity of the situation is too much to ignore, and you finally do curl up in a ball and cry. Standing in the driveway in front of the fertility clinic, I called my best friend and melted down, crying for all of the plans that cancer had forced me to rearrange, the awful situation I found myself in, and for myself. By the time I hung up the phone, I had cried myself out, and was determined to regain control of the situation in the best way I could. I decided to go to Greece.
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