The Pain Within

In life we focus so much on what another persons perceptions of us is that we do not have the time or the where with all to have a perception of ourselves. Almost one year before I was officially diagnosed with cancer, I had an older woman, who was in remission ask me who my oncologist was, presumably because of my outer appearance. I had circles around my eyes, my face was sunken in, I was skinny, and my hair was growing back after being cut almost to the root. Shortly thereafter while my husband and I were in an auto parts store, a man who was in line behind him was trying to make conversation with him by asking if he knew if I ( who was off looking at a display, still within earshot) was a man or a woman?! This goes to show that different people, in different situations will have a very different perception of the same person, situation, or thing. What can be learned from these very different situations, aside from the obviously different perceptions? For me, at that point in my life, it only made me feel more self conscious about how I looked, and more depressed about the way I felt, saw myself, and others saw me. It drove me deep into a place mentally that was not a good one. My husband kept trying to convince me that I was better than that , but how much could that be true when before the next year was over, I did in fact have cancer and there was nothing that could be done about that. 

I have been blessed to not feel as though my family lives below the Federal Poverty Level, yet according to our finances, we do. This should, and would in many states, automatically qualify me and my entire family for medical insurance, especially since I now have a cancer diagnosis. In the great state of Texas, this is not the case. If my husband were working, or we even borrow more than a certain amount of money and report it to the proper authorities, that automatically disqualifies us from receiving medical insurance. I lived with cervical cancer that spread into my uterus and ovaries, also causing Endometreosis for over four years, without many people even knowing. I didn't reach out to the Cancer Society, or any other of the agencies that are supposed to assist with things such as medical care because in all honesty, they are not actually set up for people like me. The people who live under the line. There is a common miss perception that these places are in fact in place to help those who are in "my situation", but there is always some reason or another that I do not qualify. I battled this illness with nothing more than my husband at my side trying to take care of the bitter old woman trapped in his wife's deteriorating body. I think the worst part of it all was my ability to still get pregnant. I don't think either me or my husband really understood this. I was in constant pain, to have sex only made the pain worse, yet as a wife I felt somewhat obligated to be intimate with my husband her I could. It seemed as though every time we made love, I was pregnant and each pregnancy made my pain that I was already suffering from having cancer even worse. By the time I was pregnant with my last child. I was on bed rest for the entire pregnancy, pretty much couldn't walk without my husband helping me, and there was nothing anyone could do to help.

It was amazing to me because even after my son was born, the doctors that I usually ended up with didn't seem to have a clue what they were doing. No one wanted to perform the one surgery that would presumably end it all in one try, they all wanted to keep me on pain medication. As anyone with four children, one being a newborn with Down Syndrome and oldest child with Emotional disorder, can attest to, you cannot be doped up on pain pills. I did not want to be on medications. I wanted to be free of this monster inside of me. Was this such an unreasonable request when the surgery was simple and basically a no brainer with my case? It took me six doctors, and twice being walked out by security to find a doctor with the same way of thinking. He was able to see that this was eating me alive. I was miserable, depressed, unmotivated to be anything, let alone a wife and mother. I was literally dying from my soul outward. This diagnoses had weighed me so far down that I felt as though it was almost impossible to dig a way out. Unless you have been in this situation, no matter why you were there, you cannot imagine the depth of the depression that I speak of. It is deeper than the Grand Canyon and darker than the darkest corner of the universe. It is the most lonely place, your echo is the loudest you have ever heard, almost deafening. Yet you can always see a pinhole of light far off I the distance and you know you have to get to that light no matter what. This is what my diagnoses was, and I was originally only diagnosed with cervical cancer. I needed to be free from the physical and mental torture that I was suffering from for so long, and this doctor was able to see the way out. It seemed so simple, why wasn't this done three years ago? Oh yeah, no insurance. The only way I was even at this doctor was because my husband lost his job. The double sided sword of living in poverty.

Within two weeks I was being prepped for surgery. I was excited and nervous all the same, but I knew this was the only way to save my life. A simple hysterectomy, taking out everything that both made me sick and allowed me to bring life was all it took to heal this suffering that I felt. They found so much that seemed to be in plain sight of any decent doctor. All of this could have been avoided. Depression quickly turned to anger and distrust of medical unprofessionals. I felt like the target of an office pool, of how long I would live for with so moch going wrong. How could I be happy? I should be for the second chance at life right? Not exactly. Now I have new diagnoses that have been growing and festering within for even longer than the cancer was. Imagine the irony, I was so busy focusing on one disease that seven others crept up and took over my entire nervous system and spinal cord. With all of this, I have still devoted my life to helping others in need. I try and help as many random people as I can, and now I have begun a charity to help families, especially during this time of year, with holidays looming. I know that regardless to how much pain I suffer, there is always someone else who is worse. There is always someone who is suffering the same illnesses, living in a box, literally. I am in no way being faciscious, just honest opinion.

 Life is difficult for everyone no matter who you are, where you are from, or what you look like so it is better to play the hand that is dealt rather than swapping cards in the deck. We always think that those who are financially privileged either don't struggle, or are immune to disease as if they are made of Teflon. Most times those of us grossing less than $100,000 per year have less stress than a person who is in the top 1%, only because they have more people around them wanting to be taken care of. Health wise I have to believe that those who are more fortunate have less issues with better care. Nothing can be done about terminal disease, yet for the most part they are healthier and have better quality of care. Money can help out with most issues in life but what happens to your health is almost inevitable.