Of Shoes and ships and sealing wax, of scary tests and things

Some of you are probably very familiar with tests and pathology. Some of you are unfortunately experts on test names, drug names and surgical procedures. Also, some of you may even recognize the “clever” turn of phrase I use when I pretend to be a stormtrooper and I try to explain something emotional or serious, but I can’t shut the fuck up with Star Wars quotes or Robin Hood Men in Tights quotes because movie quotes are how I express my emotions.

Long story short, I don’t even have to tell you the bad news in a good way: I had to take a tumor marker test, to see if I was emitting a protein that is excreted with ovarian cancer. The CA 125 test. This test is fairly common, and is a solid baseline for any sort of post-surgery pathology.

The results can also be quite skewed with any sort of inflammation, infection and in my case- residual endometriosis. I expected to have SKY HIGH numbers, but in the end my markers were good and fairly normal. So I will go into potential surgery with ovarian eviction/ tumor removal with a healthy baseline. All is well.

I feel like a lot of us are at the age of health scares. Metabolic syndrome, diabetes, COPD, and cancer. Gen X , Xennials and Millennials…we are feeling our age. You never know how you are going to feel or react when its your turn to dabble into statistics with diseases. Ovarian cancer potential was absolutely not on my bingo card, so hearing that I needed to take this test because the things I am growing look “odd” hit me rather hard.

Aside from the absolute kick in the pants that I am sans reproductive system, when I realized that my ovaries could be completely conspiring against me- my feelings were quite hurt. Like…we saved you, ovaries. Assholes. This is what you wanna do now? Make weird cells and rebel against the rest of the body? What in the actual fuck. I could have had you removed at the beginning.

Like the kids say: And I took that personally.

It also took me several weeks to work up the courage to get my blood drawn, which is so stupid, right? This test is just a baseline, it’s not even a smoking gun or “gotcha” for ovarian cancer. Its just a goddamn test. But for a couple days I was desperately trying to avoid these terrible, complicated, mental scenarios if I ended up having extremely high numbers.

Naturally, it didn’t take too long for me to get over myself, and to decide that I was just FINE and had my blood drawn. And I am fortunate enough to report currently that this was anti-climactic to the extreme. As I had decided I was fine, the results were fine and we all moved along that day with the usual Thursday bullshit of it being Thursday and not Friday.

Who knows how pathology will be after surgery, but this is the case with every single person who has surgery. You truly don’t know, until you are opened up and things are removed. For some reason this sits better with me, even though its not a definitive. I think it’s because I am of sound science mind and very into statistics, so I appreciate the odds that are stacked in my favor with previous clear pathology. I still wish my surgeon would take pictures of the intensely malformed, disgusting things that are removed but- we can’t have it all.

Hear me out. If you were producing dermoid cysts with teeth and hair wouldn’t you want to see them? Would my dermoid cysts produce auburn hair like I had as a child? Or would it be darker. The idea that my tumors would piss off pathologists and chip their equipment with randomly formed teeth is quite appealing. Oh hey, sorry I ruined your day with random teeth in a cyst. But can I have those teeth?

Yes, I know I’m weird as hell but you knew what you were getting into with reading this blog. I am still, to this day, still trying to convince my parents to get a year round, 12 foot skeleton from Home Depot. Makes sense that I would want gnarly cysts to irritate pathologists.

Completely out of left field, I had debated doing an actual video about this but I hate looking at myself on camera. Even though I can filter the ever living hell out of things, I’m very focused (maybe borderline obsessed) with my crows feet right now and just couldn’t go through with it. Perhaps I’ll change my mind with more prosecco. This is doubtful as I do not remotely drink as much as I used to with this staunch keto anti-inflammatory diet. I am the anti-thesis of fun, and I apologize for my sound mind, and lack of drunk choices involving social media. Really, last time I had too much prosecco I ordered a Coach bag, so this unchecked behavior needed to be reigned in fast.

In summation: If you are on the brink of scary health problems, I salute you and I am here for you. It’s quite sobering, when you truly realize that you are just flesh and blood and that you honestly need to just live smartly and make healthier choices. Sounds so easy? But you try reversing years of learned habits. It’s not going to happen overnight. No matter how intensely you wish the past away, she comes back tenfold. With unwanted friends, presents and ideals.

Aging is a privilege, and so many people do not get that chance. Yes, it’s a bummer. But everything counts.

In large amounts. Until next time!

CA 125 do you copy?