Amandafesting
I had cancer in this photo. Can you tell?
My nieces and sister planned a trip to an alpaca farm for me. Alpacas ignite fierce inner child energy for me. I am not even sure when I started liking Alpacas. I have always been more of a robot vacuum pet/animal kinda gal than an animal lover kind of human. But somehow, aside from my nieces, Alpacas also became my spirit animals.
I remember really being present during this day and just giddy with enthusiasm over the memory gift they gave to me. I was not sure where my cancer journey was going to take me back then and that day I felt really present in my thoughts and joy.
There was happiness that day but there was still pain. There was always physical pain. I remember wanting…no…needing to sit down so badly because of my lower back pain. Hunching, squatting, sitting… These are things I learned to do over the span of 10 years so I could alleviate the pain. Standing for longer than 3-5 minutes was excruciating. I sometimes felt that if I stood too long that my insides would somehow burst through my lower back and that would be the end of my life. That day was no exception - smiling in between the pain was something I had gotten good at. It was just nice to be smiling with the alpacas.
I remember spending hours of my time daydreaming. I would fantasize about how my life should be. I would dream of what it would be like to walk and hike... to do some of the adventures and explore some of the places I would see in TV. I would watch movies cuddled up on my couch eating excessive amounts of food because food was one of the only things I had in my life that would give me pleasure. I would think about what it would be like to fly away… in a hot air balloon… but then reality would kick in … How the fuck would I ever get into one? Let alone stand in one? … Back to dreaming… in my dreams I was in the balloon… I was flying. In my dreams I was healthy. In my dreams I was happy on the inside… not just wearing a outer mask of “happy”.
Amandafesting
Amandafesting
Did I just manifest cancer?
I remember being adamant that my uterus was coming out. I was going to get my way and it was coming out. I remember lining all my thoughts and energy into that thought process.
Getting the IUD in was supposed to help my periods. I had bled every day from September 2021 until December 29 2021. We are talking clots the size of quarters happening by the hour kind of bleeding too, not just the spotting kind. I was wearing two overnight pads embracing my adult diaper. The bleeding continued even after my IUD insertion but that was the longest stretch.
I could feel the IUD. I didn’t want it in… it didn’t do anything anyways. I was in tears in pain both emotionally and physically when it was inserted on January 6 2022. I was convinced it wouldn’t help and pleaded for a hysterectomy but my doctors refused to give me one. I remember my male gynecologist telling me that I might “change my mind and want kids one day”. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t get that I did not want kids. I was 37 years old. Being abstinent for 10 years during my “prime childbearing years” should have been enough to prove that. But… Why should I have to justify my decision at all? A man, the same age as me, with no children, can easily choose to have a vasectomy. Yet, as a woman, the same age, not wanting children, experiencing extreme physical pain, anxiety, engaging in suicide ideation because of a body part disrupting my life… can’t get a hysterectomy. Inserting sarcasm font, “Nope, I’m a woman… don’t ya know I’ll change my mind”. Ugh. Gross. I kept repeating, “I don’t want kids. I don’t want my uterus.” I was a broken record. I would visualize my IUD coming out… with my uterus.
Shortly after my IUD was inserted, I received a call from my doctor. My pap smear results had come back (delayed due to covid) and I needed to return to my gyno. On the examination table on February 16 2022, my legs opened, my gyno stated, “it looks like cancer”. I remember thinking… Fuck. Did I just manifest cancer?
Amandafesting
Amandafesting
But then my thoughts changed to “fuck yes, uterus is coming out!” Not so fast. First they needed to do a cone procedure to see how far the cancer had spread. My male gynecologist “assured” me “again” that they would put a band in my cervix so I could “still have children”. WHAT PART ABOUT “I DON’T WANT KIDS DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND?” Why did I have to shout this? I was not nice to him. I was done with being nice. Nice was not getting me anywhere.
When I wasn’t getting angry with that male gynecologist, I was focusing on settling into my body and reconnecting with it. I embraced Reiki and practiced daily meditations. I became mindful of the colours I wore and focused on the cancer staying small. I was also distracting myself by pouring myself into work and things I wanted to clean around my home… I was trying to control as much as my environment as I possibly could.
I kept my cancer to myself. Looking back, my behaviors would have seemed wildly odd to my humans on the outside but I really did not want to share my news with certain members of my family. Coming from an enmeshed family dynamic where trauma took center stage, I wasn’t ready for my cancer to make the front page of the annual Christmas newsletter, and I also did not want my cancer to be treated as a bad thing because I knew that my uterus was coming out one way or another and I was getting what I wanted. So, I did not tell anyone about my cancer until my doctor insisted that I share the news for support through my cone biopsy. Let’s get real too… Little miss stubborn determined me also thought I could do it all on my own too. I started by sharing my news with the management team at work. I needed a plan for work since I lived by myself and did not have financial support from anyone. I was also one of the managers so it’d be a bit unusual if I was MIA for a couple days. I shared with a couple friends who had no connection to my family life. Then, when I felt stronger, I shared my news with my three humans, the ones I knew were my people and would help me get to the other side of this.
My gynecologist told me that if the cancer had not spread past the margins of the cone biopsy that I would not get a hysterectomy… I told him very clearly that my uterus would be coming out. Sure enough, following my procedure, the gynecologist called me and in an abrupt tone said I would be getting “my wish” as the “cancer had spread beyond the margins”.
I know I had asked for this but I was spinning and cycling in my thoughts, and hard. I was on repeat: More reiki. More positive thoughts. More reiki. More positive thoughts. The cancer would only spread a little bit. I would be fine. More reiki. More positive thoughts. More anxiety. More tears. Fuck. More reiki. More fear. More tears. More positive thoughts. Be still. More reiki. More reiki.
Goodbye
Uterus!
Amandafesting
Amandafesting
What in the actual fuck…
…is my lower back pain gone?
My cousin met me the night before my surgery and we went for a “walk” down by the water. The doctors had told me that I needed to walk 30 minutes a day to get my strength up for the surgery. Ya right. I couldn’t stand for longer than 5 minutes so walking was just out of the question. But my cousin marched my ass around that pier and sat with me when I needed breaks… every 5 minutes. The next morning she wheeled up to my place bright and early to pick me up for my surgery… she understood the mission of keeping this an upbeat journey because she made me a “Goodbye Uterus” card… filled with puns. “Your monthly subscription has been cancelled” “This thing has been cramping your style”. “This thing is hystory”. Fuck. I knew I had chosen the right humans.
My surgery for my radical hysterectomy was complicated and long…. They cleared out the cancer from my cervix and… it had not spread a lot. (Thank you Reiki!) They also discovered stage 4 endometriosis. Endo what?? How do you even say that word? Stage fucking 4?! I recall hearing that word once before… at one point my doctors thought it might be endometriosis but had “ruled it out”. They said it was fibroids and cysts most likely causing all the bleeding, all the pain, not endometriosis. I remember trying to absorb everything they were telling me while I was still high as a kite coming out of surgery… “Endometriosis… Your uterus was attaching to your rectum”… “One of your ovaries was plastered to the uterus wall”. There is a whole side bar and ongoing story with my ovaries too… I’ll save those details for the book.
My healing process was messy and long (it still is in many ways). The doctors told me that I would need to walk to help with my recovery. Again… Me? Walk? HA. That’s hilarious. What don’t these doctors understand about “I don’t walk” and “it hurts to walk”. I’ll be fine on my couch, just let me go home, back to my food, my comfort. The team at the hospital said to get out of the hospital I would need to fart so I reluctantly agreed to go for fart walks… I had help though… Captain America showed up and he took me on a stroll around the halls in the hospital. That was a fairytale moment in my cancer journey… one I still give gratitude for to this day and I’ll share more about in my book. My tummy was in a lot of pain. I had a giant setback in my healing when my wound opened up. Yes, opened up. Just like the hero he is, Captain America was there to save me that day too. I was on a lot of pain meds, but I felt like I was on the mend doing what I needed to do to heal.
One day I found myself using my sit/stand desk to stand so I could stretch and move a tiny bit… then it dawned on me… like I had just snapped out from all the trauma of the surgery and the complications… How long had I been standing?! The pain wasn’t registering in my brain… my lower back should be caving to the ground by this point…my insides should be bursting… they should be everywhere on the ground…why…what. the. fuck… I sat down. I was in disbelief. I stood up again. I set a timer. 10 minutes. I stood for 10 minutes. I sat again. I stood again. I stood for 15 minutes. I did this until I was up to 30 minutes. HOLY SHIT! 30 minutes!!! Where the fuck did that lower back pain go? The lower back pain that kept me on the couch for 10 years?
I remember the first time I went for a walk around my block. I had never done that before. Tears of joy.
I remember the first time I went on a hike with my friends in Barrie. Tears of joy.
I remember the first time I was in a magical rainforest on Vancouver Island. Tears of joy. P.S. Unicorns definitely live here.
I remember the first time I climbed through mountains in Banff. Tears. So many tears.
I remember… New York City, Orlando, Mardi Gras in New Orleans, Greece, Turkey…
I remember getting into that hot air balloon in Cappadocia. I remember flying. Tears of joy, of gratitude.
Amandafesting
Amandafesting
Cancer is the best thing that ever happened to me.
That sounds so fucked up to say, right? Cancer was a good thing? Let alone the best thing?
My intuition and my body knew my uterus needed to come out. I reflect on my journey all the time. I was told my entire life by health care practitioners that I just “needed to lose weight” that my back pain would be gone if I just walked and moved more. Without the symptoms from endometriosis, I may never have found the cancer. Without the cancer, I would never have found the endometriosis. I would not be experiencing what it is like to walk, to move, without the eviction of my uterus. For these reasons, I have gratitude for both cancer and endometriosis.
You know… personal growth is a wild ride. I continue to do a lot of work on myself - choosing better health, nurturing relationships, and being mindful of what I bring in and allow into my life. I’m still definitely a giant cry baby. I often shed tears, both for the grief and joy. The grief is for what I missed out on in my life and what I’ve had to let go of to keep my peace and keep moving forward. The joy is for the incredible journey I’m on and the amazing people who ride it out with me, keep doing the work, and keep moving forward.
I continuously find ways to lean into Amandafesting and modalities that help me learn, grow, and heal, just like Reiki. I am open to tuning into signals and considering different perspectives, exploring how any “setbacks” or “hiccups” in my life might be ways my body and the universe are trying to communicate with me.
What I do know is that I will forever chase hot air balloons, aiming for my aspirations. My body and my choices are mine alone, and I will fiercely defend them. Like an alpaca that spits back when provoked, I will stand against anyone who tries to dictate what I can or cannot do, and what I should or should not feel. My journey is my own, and I will not be confined by the limitations others seek to impose. I choose to Aim and Align, allowing my intuition to guide me, noticing the opportunities that come my way, and dedicating myself to living authentically and freely.
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