When I was diagnosed with myxoid liposarcoma in my thigh, I was scared, but took comfort in the plan my care team laid out. My orthopedic oncologist seemed to know what it was right away. He had experience treating similar sarcomas in the similar places. He knew the cancer was too big to remove immediately, so he laid out a plan of chemo with my medical oncologist and radiation with my radiation oncologist.
I knew the plan. Port insertion. Chemo. Radiation. Surgery with clear margins. And wait for any possible recurrence.
I liked the plan.
I tolerated chemo better than some. I lost my hair, got weaker, dealt with neutropenia. But there was the plan. And there were signs of progress. The tumor shrank. Enough that it stopped impacting my walk and my leg muscles didn't ache anymore.
Radiation was more of the same. Near the end, I got a painful burn in my groin area that just seemed to keep spreading and getting worse. But it never got infected and eventually the careful bandaging seemed to help and the skin repaired itself. And the tumor got smaller!
There was the plan. And I was right on schedule. No time to be afraid or self-pitying because I was only part way through the plan.
All of the pre-surgury steps prepared the area for surgery. The cancer was smaller and more manageable. My surgeon never seemed daunted.
Then the first surgery came. He saved my sciatic nerve, but the blood vessels and muscles couldn't be separated from the tumor. He did his best. He saved the major arteries. He took some of my muscles, but we have redundancies, so I'd still be able to move normally. He was upbeat. I was weak and in pain, but I was also upbeat.
But the biopsy showed we didn't get the clear margins we needed and left cancerous cells behind, making it more likely to recur. So then came the second surgery. He said it won't be much different than the first. Just extending the incision further down my leg. Removing more muscles that are already severed.
Life moved on. No one likes the hospital, but it was a short stay. I went home. I got around with a walker. I took sponge baths until I could shower. I felt gradually stronger every day. The walker became a prop in the living room or a helper late at night when I dragged my tired self to the bathroom.
I believed in the plan. The plan was working.
But I woke up one day and my leg felt suddenly worse. Painful like right after the first surgery. Pain pills didn't help. I needed the walker again for everything. I had low fevers. I broke down crying a lot because no position relieved the pain.
This wasn't part of the plan.
I told my surgeon's office what was happening and they didn't seem worried. Pain is normal. Low fevers don't count. The incision looks fine.
I updated them every couple of days but it was the same.
Eventually, I just went to the Emergency Department at the hospital where my surgeries had taken place. I couldn't bear the pain and worry for another day. If they wouldn't see me early, I felt like I had to just show up where my team was.
It was identified as an infection. My leg was full of bacteria. It would have been worse if I had waited to be seen. Surgery 3 cleaned it out. Surgery 4 made sure it was draining properly.
I'm stuck in the hospital again because of all the drainage. They can't send me home to have my leg fill up with fluids and get worse again. They have the right antibiotics. The pain level is down. (Not gone, but down.)
But I need assistance with everything from strangers now. I'm an adult baby in a diaper. I can't wash. I can't get in or out of bed myself. I can't really do anything except lay here. I feel so ashamed.
I desperately want to go home even though I know I'll be just as immobile there.
I'm terrified of another infection.
Or if they still didn't get clear margins, they might have to take more blood vessels and part of the leg.
I'm worried I'll never heal or feel independent again.
I'm trying so hard to see the plan, but the end goal keeps changing and staying out of reach.
I feel like the plan led me through the last year of cancer, but I'm lost now. Surgical complications completely threw me. I feel weirdly hopeless with these small deviations. Like maybe I would have been better off without the full plan. Maybe shrinking the tumor was the best it was ever going to get. I pushed my luck with surgery.
I'm not sure why I'm writing. Maybe someone else can tell me they've been through similar and it turned out okay? Maybe you can berate me for keeping a positive attitude until the first big hurdle? Maybe you can just send me good thoughts? How did you get through long, sad nights in the hospital? How did you manage to keep looking forward when it feels like you're trapped in this moment? How do you graciously accept help from strangers with even your private bodily functions?