The Big News
Friday, May 11, 2007 
There is no easy way to put this. With each person I have told, I have chosen to be straightforward, because attempting to soften the subject matter would only make the news hit harder. So, here it is.
I have been diagnosed with cervical cancer.
I found out yesterday afternoon, and that is the first time I have actually typed those words out and read them back to myself. Cervical cancer. What a strange thing to clack out on my keyboard: a sentence structured so that cancer is the object and I is the subject. I am the subject.
I want to have thoughts and feelings about it, but I don't yet. I sit here at the keyboard, listen to the white noise hum of the laptop, and stare into the nothing of a blank screen. I want to be eloquent; I want to sound somber while conferring a touch of levity to lighten the load of a subject that was only whispered about when I was a child in the seventies. I wonder Am I feeling anything? and check my mind as though going through pockets to look for loose change. Nope, nothing yet.
The truth is that I felt something was off with me back in the fall when I went for my initial physical exam. I did not say anything then, because my knowledge was based on things like a gut feeling, patterns in my dreams, a nagging thought that my brain chemicals weren't the only things that needed fixing around here. There was no pain or illness to substantiate what I knew, but I knew it all the same.
Each time I have told another friend or family member the news, I feel compelled to apologize. I'm sorry to have to say this to you, I'm sorry about this, I'm sorry to bring down your day this way. I know that it's ridiculous. I haven't done anything aside from exist in a body that behaves as a body will. There is no sense in apologizing for that. It would be like apologizing for my existence. And yet, I apologized to my mother and several friends yesterday. I'm sorry I have cancer, as though it's an act I've committed.
Right now, though, I am fine. Saviabella has penned an appointment into her calendar to call me in about two weeks when the shock wears off and I start freaking out about scary words like CANCER and SURGERY and HYSTERECTOMY. Until then, though, I have the respite offered by shock and disbelief. Ah, sweet denial.
Today, I am staying at home and eating every bad thing I can, coping through deep fried meat and french fries, so, if you will excuse me, I have some gorging to do, Oprah to watch, Oprah to bitch about, and then a grease-induced euphoria in which to bask.
the body, the cancer
Reader Comments (69)
Well,sweet merciful shit, I didn't see THAT coming.
I am so sorry that you're about to be be dragged through this..
I know I'm a few provinces away, but if there's anything I can do, don't hesitate to ask. And know, of course, that you have the support of every single one of your readers.
I wish I could say something more profound here, but.. I'm still kind of stunned. Totally not what I was expecting.
Oh my god. I'm so sorry. This felt like a shock to me, a blog reader - I can't imagine how it feels for you and your family. My thoughts are with you.
"I'm sorry" you are going through this. I really am. Having suffered (?) a hysterectomy first hand, it isn't as good or bad as everyone says. One just lives through it, I guess.
Please take care - and keep writing. Your readers are concerned and will want to know how everything goes. I will, at least.
How awful for you, Schmutzie. I hope you have the resources you need to cope. I'm sending my unconditional virtual support as well.
shit, friend. It wont come to that H word but I know this path all too well....
Schmutzie, you are in my thoughts and I'm sending all the strength and positive energy I can muster.
I'm so glad you have Saviabella and the Palinode to take care of you.
Peace to you today.
I was waiting for good news. Crap on a cracker.
You need ice cream. Nothing helps cope like ice cream.
simple words: I'm sorry. sorry that you have to deal with anything associated with the diagnosis...
hope healing is swift...
Tomorrow night, there will be toasted sesame ice cream. And also, I've set the two-week reminder into my PDA, which will make a little "bing" noise to remind me to call. Not that I would forget anyway, but I'm saying I'm leaving nothing to chance here, Schmutzie. It's official. I'm going to stalk you.
Go, and be healed.
You'll be in my thoughts.
Oh Schmutzie. Let me add to the mutual sorryfest: I'm sorry. The Internet will be sending their vibes your way.
I'll send my healing thoughts tomorrow and every day you're going through this. But today I'm just cursing.
Well goddammit, that is unacceptable.
I'm with V -- holler as loud and long and often as you need to.
We can't really go through this with you, but we will all sure as hell go through this around you.
Fuck cancer. Fuck it with a wiffleball bat. It's more afraid of you than you are of it. You're too busy for stupid pansy ass cancer anyway. Just you wait and see. It'll be nothing. A cakewalk. Send it home with a fuckin' rupture, slugger.
When you said you had big news, I knew. I think it was because you were a little too excited.
Yes, one does feel like apologizing when giving the news, and I'll admit I feel like apologizing for having read the news (I'm so sorry) even though neither of us did this.
I guess the only thing I can say is "oh shit Jesus!" which was the first thing I said - out loud - when I read those two words. I guess it shows that the most awful c-word (cunt, because I feel strangely obligated to type that out) sometimes isn't the most awful.
Oh man. Deep breath. I will send every good and happy thought and prayer your way.
Schmutzie. Words fail. Mr. Head is right though - you are stronger than it is.
I don't know what to say but I'm saying it anyway. I'm so sorry. Cancer is stupid, and you are not. I am betting that in a popularity contest, you would win over cancer, hands down. Cancer wouldn't even place. Asshole cancer. Am I still writing? I'm still sorry. I'm sorry, Schmutzie.
Holy shit, lady. What does this mean? I'm waiting for you to tell me. Love is on the way.
Fuck you, Cancer.
I am so sorry Schmutzie. Denial is a powerful thing and also a useful thing. You're storing all your energy for the actual fight against cancer.
Go to hell cancer.
That is so not right. Bodies may do this but why?
I'm so sorry. I'll be here in the ether and whatever I can do here, let me know.
Goddamnit I thought you'd won the lottery or something like that. I wish you had.
Cancer, schmancer. Kick it's ass! You da man, Schmutz. A tough chick like you doesn't deserve this shit.
Get pissed.
Take charge.
Healing vibes and positive energy are being sent your way. All day. Every second.
Be well. I am thinking of you.
That is so totally fucked....
Add my energy to all the others sending you healing and love.
I'm so sorry to hear your news, Shmutzie. From your previous announcement, I was expecting something big, but certainly not this. Shit on a stick, as we sometimes say in oz. Sorry.
Sending positive vibes through the ether.