My name is Carrie, and I am 32 years old. I have been married to my wonderful husband for 9 years and we have 2 beautiful girls. Sierra is 13 and Reagan is 7. I also have 5 beautiful nieces. Needless to say, testosterone is lacking in our family! Let me back up a little bit. My 30th Birthday. I was not looking forward to it at all. I have always been an old soul, yet very young at heart. I love dressing up for Halloween, drinking hot cocoa in the winter and snow ball fights. I still collect Tiggers! I was not prepared to accept the “adulthood” that I thought came with turning the big 3-0. My birthday was on a Monday. Tuesday I woke up and felt odd. By midday it was like heartburn. By dinner it was intense. That night I went to the ER and the next morning my appendix was removed. Boy, this 30 thing was great and off to a hell of a start.

I always scheduled my yearly pap exam around my birthday. I liked my OB and unlike most of my friends I didn’t mind going to the “cootchie doc”. Unfortunately, my appointment had to be rescheduled due to the appendix thing, and so it was going to be September when I went. No big deal, I went, I joked, and I left with a new script for birth control. We even discussed me trying again for a boy, something we all wanted badly. A week and a half later, I received a call from Joan, my Docs nurse. She stated that the results were “questionable”. The cells didn’t look abnormal, but not exactly normal either, so they wanted me to come in for a colposcapy. I said sure, no problem. Joan steadily asked me if I was ok and if I had any questions. Nothing came to me, so I said no. She seemed to be surprised by this. A few weeks later, I had the interesting and uncomfortable procedure. I compared it to someone using a melon baller, just on my cervix. I bled for a few days, no big deal. Doc didn’t seem too concerned, stating they looked minimally effected, and I shouldn’t be worried. So, I wasn’t. Just more “screw turning 30” thoughts.

The following week, Doc called to say that to his surprise, the cells needed further testing, and I needed to schedule a cone biopsy. I think this is when my husband began to worry. It didn’t help that the biopsy was scheduled for his birthday, October 20, 5 days before we left for vacation. I went in that morning, had the procedure, and was home that evening feeling guilty for messing up his birthday. Wednesday, I went back to work. I stopped by my sister-in-laws house and was sitting on her couch when my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and I knew it wasn’t good. My Doc proceeded to ask me if I was in love with my uterus. I kind of laughed and stated that we had been together a while, but I could part with it if I had to. He proceeded to tell me that it needed to come out, along with a bunch of other stuff that took about 20 minutes. So I began to wait patiently for the scheduling nurse to call me. Later the next day, I called Docs office and left a message for him to call me back. I could remember NOTHING past we need to schedule a hysterectomy.

I have read many blogs where woman give the levels and initials that identify the type and severity of the cancer they have. I still haven't read the Path reports, I just know I showed 2 different types. All I knew was I didn’t want it in me any longer than it had to be. My oldest daughter asked me if I felt bad, and why it had to be me. I explained to her that I was glad it was me. I think she and my husband looked at me like I had lost my mind. I told her that if Cancer choose me (who had the ability to have an everyday procedure that would offer me a 95% cure rate) instead of a young girl who hadn’t had the chance to marry or have children yet, or worse would go thru the things I had read about in stories, then I was glad it choose me. My pathology report post-op showed no residual disease. At my next check up, Doc told me that the Pathologist could not believe the condition of my uterus, as the cancer had spread RAPIDLY. I was kind of shocked, since my Doc had seemed to think every thing was fine and minimal the whole time. I look back and realize that the old "everything happens for a reason" thing is so true. Had I had my Pap in July like normal, I was so early it may not have been caught. To wait another year, and I could have been dead. I still haven’t really dealt with how I feel about all of this with the exception of a few nights crying over not being able to have a son. I cringe when I hear babies cry, and I don’t like to see pregnant women. One day I may come to terms with everything, but for now I am just taking it day by day, waiting for the reality of being a survivor to hit me.