My health problems began in my 40s. In late 2014, I was diagnosed with severe and chronic migraines which translated to 23 migraines per month. They were relentless. I tried so many medications for migraine prevention, gained 25 pounds in three weeks while taking an SSRI and became very depressed. I decided to find an alternate solution.
After my allergies diagnosis in 2014, I was referred to Dr. Matthews, a Gastroenterologist. I saw him in April 2015 and he performed my first ever colonoscopy that August. He removed the polyps he found in early September 2015 and told me to come back for a follow up in three years.
At age 41, I had a partial hysterectomy in late September 2015. I had been progressively experiencing severe pain every month until one day, the pain was so bad, my nerves seemed to seize in my legs and I was no longer able to walk. I was diagnosed with severe Adenomyosis and when my uterus was removed, the surgeon told me it was 4 sizes larger than it should have been, and I had 3 very large fibroids. The surgery was performed laparoscopically and I returned to work 6 weeks later. I remember feeling incredibly tired. I kept my ovaries so I would not go into surgical menopause. I felt confident that would be it until my 60’s but I was very wrong.
I could no longer tolerate the migraines and in January 2016, I contacted a Medical Marijuana Clinic and got a legal prescription to use Cannabis. I eventually found a strain that was very effective for migraines. Cannabis was working, but it wasn’t a viable treatment while I was at work. After reading about people’s experiences having their daiths pierced, I decided that I had nothing to lose. I walked in to the tattoo shop with a migraine, had both daiths pierced and walked out migraine free. I couldn’t believe it. It worked for me. I was able to control my migraines, medication-free with two piercings and cannabis.
In June 2017, I started experiencing a pain in my lower belly and when I saw my GP for my physical, I mentioned it to her and she sent me for a CT with dye. In June the CT results came back noting diverticulitis in my lower left colon. My GP offered me antibiotics, which I declined and moved on with my life. I did increase my medical Cannabis prescription to help with various aches and pains I was experiencing in my body. About six months later, I noticed that I was more and more tired. I slept a lot and I even slept at the office nearly on a daily basis. I assumed that I was tired because I have 2 children, 18 months apart and at the time, my daughter was on a competitive diving team and that meant she trained nearly 5 days a week. I would pick up the kids from daycare, rush home so we could eat dinner at 4:30 (I always made crock pot meals on diving nights), and my daughter and I would have to be out of the house by 5:00 pm to drive 45 minutes to practice. We would not be home until 10:00-10:30 pm nightly. I assumed my exhaustion was due to never relaxing and always being ‘on the go.’
In June 2018, my daughter Mazarine decided to quit the diving team. I was over the moon. I would arrive home at 4:30 pm and pass out on the couch, after having a one-hour nap at lunchtime every day at the office. My credit cards were maxed out by August because I became too exhausted to cook. I ordered from Skip the Dishes at least 4 times a week. It never occurred to me there might be something wrong, despite the fact I would go to bed at 7:30 pm and would have to drag myself out of bed at 7:00 am – I was even showering at night so I could sleep more.
On August 15, 2018, I returned to see Dr. Matthews, my G. I. specialist for my three-year colonoscopy follow-up. When he came to see me after the procedure, he tearfully told me I had colon cancer and there was nothing he could do (Stage 3). After the diagnosis things moved very quickly. I met with my surgeon within a week and my right hemicolectomy was scheduled for August 23, 2018. I knew it was serious because the hospital ORs were all closed in August and only emergency surgeries were permitted.
I arrived at 10 am on August 23 and was offered four choices for pain management. I was really tired, and incredibly anxious, I honestly didn’t expect to wake up after surgery. I recall informing all the doctors I did not want any opioids, at all because I wasn’t going home a junkie. They laughed, but didn’t realize how serious I was. They told me I would need more than just Tylenol, and I agreed to a low dose of OxyContin because they would be cutting through nerves and removing organs. They told me I needed more than that too. This is one of the most painful surgeries you can have. I stuck to my guns, said no, I would accept this belly wash (which I think was like a numbing agent), then I requested my Cannabis and was told no, but they could give me synthetic Cannabis and the OxyContin.
I woke up from surgery and immediately noticed I smelled. I stunk! I smelled sick, and I can’t really describe it, but in my mind I smelled like moldy-blood and like a dying person. I’d been around a lot of people on their death bed so this smell stuck with me, and then came the pain. I remember barely being able to keep my eyes open, not able to really speak and I fell asleep. When I came to again, my children and husband were at the foot of my bed. I was happy to see them and so tired all at the same time. I felt groggy, like my head was foggy. The kids and my husband didn’t stay long, my husband could see I was in pain although I couldn’t feel it in my lower body, it was the oddest sensation. After they left, I met my nurse, Carine. I didn’t like her at all; I was her charge and she was mean with no bedside manner. Once Carine’s shift was over I met the night nurse, Tammy. Tammy was amazing. She noticed that the reason I was in so much pain was because Carine (Karen with a “C”) had let my pain meds IV run dry. While my family was visiting, no wonder I was in so much pain, I had zero pain management IV. I requested a semi-private room and a new nurse. My wish was granted. Tammy and Nancy were my full time floor nurses after that.
Every night the Anesthesiologist would come, visit me and ask how I was doing with my pain management. He was a lovely man. I remember asking everyone who came to my room what they were smoking and why nobody was sharing. I was so confused… then the Anesthesiologist mentioned he had given me a mix of strong synthetic THC along with Oxy (I had refused fentanyl). I was his first patient who managed pain this way and he was very curious. I doubted the effectiveness of synthetic THC, but I had nothing to worry about. I realized that I could smell the Cannabis coming through my pores so I was the one smoking and not sharing! I spent 10 days in hospital on an IV and finally went home September 5. I was crushed for missing Mazarine’s birthday party, but everyone was just happy I wasn’t dead. I didn’t physically eat any food from August 21 to nearly the end of September.
After my surgery, eating was terrifying! Everything I ate hurt my bowels. I was only able to eat one food per day for an entire week and I started with avocado. Eventually, I added eggs, I was afraid of green vegetables and grains so I avoided a lot of foods during my recovery which helped me lose 40 pounds. While I spent 3 months recovering from my surgery I lost my taste for alcohol and several foods I enjoyed pre-cancer. I was excited to return to work because I missed my fast-paced life. I have not fully recovered from my surgery experience, to this day I only eat five meals a week because I’ve gotten used to not eating. Although, I am getting better and for the first time in several years, I’ve already had 5 meals in 4 days. Progress, but I truly no longer enjoy eating.
In March 2019, I had an appointment with Genetics at the Oshawa Hospital and based on my family history I provided a blood sample to have my DNA tested for genetic defects. The following month, I was told the devastating news that I have a genetic defect (Lynch Syndrome MSH6 positive) and cancer will return with 80% certainty before my 80th birthday. I was informed I would need to have my ovaries removed to prevent ovarian cancer. This was not the news I had expected and I left the office numb. I completely shut down my emotions and I remember my brain being a quiet cave. That never happens, but I was too busy focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Within a month, I had a complete mental breakdown. I was unable to speak, or think it seemed.
After being diagnosed with MSH6 Lynch Syndrome, I spiraled into a deep depression with severe anxiety. A psychiatrist eventually diagnosed
me with PTSD in June 2019, resulting from years of childhood abuse, neglect,
and trauma, triggered by my recent diagnosis.
I drove to work after my diagnosis in April 2019 and continued to work as though nothing had happened. Occasionally I would wonder why my purse was so heavy and would withdraw the envelope to read the information it contained; on many days, the diagnosis was a surprise to me – my brain simply forgot it.
I had been tasked with planning our company’s
retirement party for over 30 people (I think, my brain is fuzzy on these
details) along with another friend and co-worker. I do remember in early May 2019 calling
the Oshawa Hospital’s cancer centre to request the counselling offered
previously that I’d politely declined. I believed I could handle it on my own.
The social worker called me back that afternoon and we set up a telephone
appointment for the following day. I had my appointment with my co-worker in
the room because I had no other private space to talk and I was not sure how I
had arrived to work that day. I had warned my friend she may feel
awkward but I needed help because I felt untethered, like nothing was holding me to the world. The Counselor and I met twice
in person at the hospital; by May 15, 2019 I found it difficult to communicate
with people. I would either start freaking out or have no voice. I spent a lot
of time crying. I decided I needed to take a leave of absence.
May 16, 2019 was my first day on Short Term Disability and
when my journey to heal from my life to this point began. This breakdown was a
pivotal moment, I could give up or I could push on. I had not decided yet if I
would choose to end my life or heal my wounds. I was too exhausted to consider
any possibilities. I remember going to work one day in late May 2019 to collect
some personal items. On this day, I arrived at work and I remember my upper lip,
palms, soles of my feet, and even my calves were sweating, and I felt unsteady on
my feet; by the time I got to the second floor I’d forgotten where I had parked
my car. I remember a co-worker handing me a cup of coffee and I started shaking
so violently and uncontrollably that I had to set my now, half cup down on the
desk. I loudly declared that I was not an alcoholic and that I didn’t know why
I was shaking all the time. The shaking had started a few days before and would
come and go, but mostly stick around. At times, it was as if I could see my
memories playing out in live-action right in front of my eyes while I was
talking to other people. The entire experience was very unsettling.
I remember at the last appointment with the social worker telling her that I had done a quiz online and that I had scored very high for a possible PTSD diagnosis. She promptly told me that was more than what her schooling was able to help me with by that she would immediately refer me to a psychiatrist. I saw him the next day. Sometimes being a cancer patient has its advantages.
Caveat: Even with
the social worker, our appointments were very clinical, I spoke about myself in
a very detached manner and I didn’t delve deep or provide a lot of detail. I showed very little emotion and told my trauma story as though I were speaking about a stranger. If
there’s one thing my life has taught me is that people are not to be trusted. People who say they love you want something from you.
If you give people too much information about you, they will hurt you with it
later, through betrayal. I normally have to know someone casually for
several years before we can be close enough for me to trust anyone. At all. It
took at least a year for me to trust my current therapist.
I saw the psychiatrist but I only gave him the information I felt he needed. I did not elaborate or really speak a lot unless it was to answer a question during our appointments. He was a good psychiatrist but I didn’t want to talk to him because I didn’t trust this old guy. What did he know about my trauma? How could he possibly relate? I gave him the highlights and I don’t recall ever telling him how I felt. In fact, I remember always avoiding talking about my feelings.
I recently applied
for the Disability Tax Credit and read his notes that whenever he asked about
cancer and how I felt about my diagnosis, my response was that “I’m fine,
that’s not my problem”. LOL He noted the sweat, the shaking hands; apparently,
my voice was shaking also. I freely admitted that I hated Maeve, that I’d been
molested and after 2 years of seeing him, those are the details I provided. I
liked doing questionnaires better; he was able to diagnose me with severe PTSD,
Anhedonia, and ADHD. He adjusted my medications and
prescribed one for ADHD. My medication doesn’t quite cut it but I refused to
take Abilify because it makes you gain an incredible
amount of weight. Instead, I doubled down on Cannabis and increased my
prescription so I could grow more.
After my cancer surgery, I took one OxyContin to sleep my first night home and
then I used Jack Herer, Trainwreck, and Bruce Banner Cannabis strains. Although I do not have
an addictive personality type, my family does have a history of substance
addiction and abuse and I didn’t want to end up a junkie. I applied for my
license to produce my own medical cannabis in 2019 and was approved for an indoor garden. My blog will help you, dear reader grow your own by learning from my
mistakes and successes.
My last ovary was removed on March 9, 2020. During my cancer surgery, my right ovary and appendix along with 3 feet of colon were removed due to a 25 cm long tumor. Then Covid-19 hit and I got to spend the rest of my time working from home living my dream life… except my happiness, my new found purpose, the reason I actually did NOT commit suicide will soon be crushed and I need your help.
Please read on the next few posts so you may fully understand just how detrimental it would be to mine, and to all legal medically growing Canadians to have neighbours harassing, intimidating, and wanting to make your life an absolute misery; despite being fully aware that this PLANT saves lives.
Read from the beginning:
Chapter 1: The Early Years
Chapter 3: Pre-Teen Years 1981-1987
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