Right after the genuine shock wore off. I turned into a monster. What cancer does not realize is that I am radioactive and it only fueled the fire. I was ready to take it down like a spider monkey (shoutout my dad). Here comes my victory dancey! Everything felt a little seasoned and spicy. Cancer is our b#@43 and I was on my way to making it my b&*!@. For Grandpa Jim looking down, rooting for me with a cigar hanging out his mouth and my people that deserved a future unburdened by this fight. I was so fueled by the love and for the ever loving spirit. Cancer made me mad, plain and simple. Not just for me, but for everyone it’s touched.
One day, after my initial PET scan appointment (I wasn’t radioactive enough I guess), my mom treated me to food. Side note, The CT scan was a breeze compared to the MRI – way faster (YOU ARE RADIOACTIVE.) Pretty cool concept. I kept playing that song waiting for it to kick in, bundled with a heated blanket, lights off, in the little office. However, all I craved was Greek food after? Like usual my mom and I landed ourselves a mission and we stumbled upon this tiny gem. A family-run place. They were rockstars. Pulling up- it looked like Weenie Hut Juniors (my favorite) but let me tell you, it changed my life. Just as we sat down, the nice guy brought out a plate piled super high with pita bread. My mom got a call and excused herself, as I happily devoured the spread. About three-quarters of the way through, I realized I should save some for her. I went over to find her and she had a strange, almost weird smile on her face.
“Mayo accepted our case.”
A big bottle of mayo plopped in my head. All I could envision or think of was mayo. Grateful, I had no idea what it was, but I started researching. The number one hospital in the nation. Not to mention, focused on cancer research. I’m so grateful for Mayo Clinic in Rochester. We joked we had a good case for them. 19, healthy girl with rare cancer usually developing in elders. Landing a spot in two weeks felt like a miracle – most people wait months, even years. I was beyond blessed. My parents, bless their hearts, cleared their schedules faster than you can say Duke’s… or Hellmann’s. It was all a whirlwind, happening right on Mom’s birthday.
Mayo hit the ground reckless driving atp. It just felt like home. We were in the right place. Throughout all this, the doctors, nurses, everyone – even the other patients felt familiar. Like a weird extended family. I was there for a reason. Despite our so-called fun lives being on hold in the hospital, the pause brought us closer. We shared a silent understanding, each of us bearing the weight of the other’s pain. It felt good because after all the junk, I was surrounded by a field of positivity, a philosophy I agreed with.
On the way to meet the surgeon I was excited to get the ball running. I thought it was so cool she was a woman surgeon so I was excited to meet her. But scary stuff, facing your mortality like that. Her outlook was getting me back to living my life and this was just a stump in the road. Now that’s a treatment plan I can get behind! She reminded me I was 19, a young woman. Other than that, she’s basically the coolest chick ever. Here she is, a top surgeon using her work to reconstruct lives.
Btw Mayo runs their own shit (keep all your tests together), but her plan was still to remove the tumor. Two paths: a mouth prosthetic – faster recovery, but a permanent hole leaving my voice hollow and leaky. Option two: free flap surgery. They would rebuild my mouth with skin from my arm, then cover the arm with a graft of my thigh. Leaving my mouth more back to original form so I could live a fulfillingly but brutal, longer recovery, more complex surgery with potential complications. Both surgeons disagreed, my oral surgeon leaned towards the retainer and Mayo pushed for reconstruction for a full life because they have the resources. Thankfully, I had the resources for the full recovery route. Mayo, being the medical MJ they are, could do the pathology within 20 minutes of surgery, margins clear or not, we’d know right away. Plus, they wanted to remove some lymph nodes, just in case of sneakyyyyyyyyy cancer.
Then came meetings with the radiologist, good news, no radiation needed as long as margins stayed clear. They would do targeted radiation therapy to help if needed down the line. They were sending in little warrior cells to fight the bad guys if they showed up. But for now, no radiation so no side effects and a much faster track back to living my best life. The doctor explained they wanted to avoid any unnecessary damage to healthy cells, especially since I’m young. Made perfect sense. Huge weight off my shoulders! During this appointment, my doctor explained all the resources for radiation patients, like free hospitality! Full service for a patient and one family member during their care. Knowing this is an option is super cool. Really shows that there is help. He and his resident were so kind and super cool.
Man turn on your ringer! Randomly, after the appointment, I get a call from Mayo… “your appointment is online ”. We get to leave a day early! Thankfully my ringer was on. Getting out of the hospital a day early felt like winning the lottery as bad as it is. Though I was definitely looking forward to a post-hospital chocolate factory visit. Freedom trumps free sugar any day. We trekked out fine butts way home. But the whole time it felt like when you’re going to a basketball tournament and the doom hits you that you forgot your shoes… I was scared I had fucked up. But the first order of business was to celebrate freedom with a big mac then reality kicks in and we talk about chemo.. Turns out he had pink eyes but the man’s a trooper, still showed up to talk about chemo. More good news, Chemo on its own doesn’t react well but tag-team with radiation could be a win. Same concept though, not likely unless I dont have clear margins or it comes back later in life, and would likely be in super small amounts.
7 pm one night, the phone rang, I had my ringy on. But the call really shows how awesome they are. My surgeon had final pathology confirming and even looped in a surgeon friend to discuss my wisdom teeth removal due to potential radiation risks. Moments like these made Mayo feel more than a hospital. They were always down to answer my questions and they cared about how I felt emotionally too. They were always there with their hand on my back, and to have that support, it’s a reminder that mental health matters just as much as physical health. And also just went above and beyond to ensure there were no hidden issues and were always available. This comprehensive approach and supportive environment made a huge difference in my experience. If you’re going through it again, there are people who want to help for anything! Little things like that made the whole experience at Mayo a little less scary. And the architecture? Beautiful.
But here’s the cool thing: my journey started with a world turned upside down, but it’s become a chance where I can make cancer my bitch, share my experience and maybe help someone else facing their own crazy ride. Fuck cancer- lets change the game!!!!! I look forward to surgery on March 4th!
Thanks for reading and joining me.
Kam
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