Lucky #7

*This is the fourth post in a series describing my diagnosis of ovarian cancer. To read the previous posts, click here, here and here.

On November 19th, I was scheduled for my 7th surgery. The process has become all too familiar, but I am still scared every time. I can't sleep the night before, and I dread saying goodbye to Jonathon as they wheel me to the operating room. On Sunday, I received a beautiful priesthood blessing from Jonathon and my home teachers. It, again, gave me comfort that I was doing the right thing, but I was still nervous. My dad called and offered to come take care of the kids while I was in the hospital. I was so grateful that he was willing to give of his time to drive many hours and spend several days taking care of our three boys... especially since one was only 4 months old. 

When I told the kids about my surgery, they were completely nonchalant. I guess that with all of my previous surgeries, they just thought that this was normal. They heard us talking about cancer, but they didn't know the seriousness of the situation, which was probably a good thing. In fact, when I told them I was going in for surgery, they were super excited that Grandpa C. was coming and would be bringing chocolate milk (a tradition that my mom started). 

With Grandpa here to hold down the fort, Jonathon and I left for the hospital at 5:15 in the morning. We got all registered and I got prepped for the surgery. One of the worst things about surgery is getting the IV. I have terrible veins and they often have to try multiple times before getting it right. Luckily, the IV went smoothly, but the blood draw was a little less successful. They eventually got what they needed, but I was left with some very colorful bruises. 

Next, I met the doctor that was going to operate on me. It may seem completely crazy to trust my body to a doctor that I have never met before, but I was so at peace with the decision that I didn't even question it. Every doctor and nurse that I had talked to had told me how wonderful Dr. Dodson was, so I felt like I was in good hands. He came in and discussed the procedure with us and then left to go get ready.

Jonathon always likes to tease me when things are stressful, so he insisted on taking a lovely picture of me before surgery. I obliged. Man, I sure love him! Then it was off for surgery.

When I woke up, I was so groggy. I could only keep my eyes open for a few minutes at a time. Jonathon said that I really didn't have a coherent conversation with him for the first 12 hours. I had wonderful nurses and people helping me while I had to stay in the hospital, but I was so ready to go home to my boys.

Jonathon stayed with me the whole time while my dad took care of everything at home. We left the hospital 36 hours after surgery. I was sore, but so happy to be with my family. 

The doctor took dozens of biopsies, but we would not get the results for about a week. While he couldn't guarantee anything, he said that he didn't see anything that looked worrisome. He was extremely hopeful that all of the biopsies would come back clean and that no further treatment would be necessary. 

When we got home, we found everything running smoothly... three happy boys, a clean house, and one tired Grandpa. My dad decided to stay for a few more days to take care of things so that Jonathon could go to work. That was a huge blessing because Jonathon has missed so much work in the last few months. 

Dad was so great! He met my every need, got the kids ready for school, fed and changed the baby, and made meals. He and Hyrum really developed a cute bond. Hyrum would follow him around the room with his eyes and give him big, gummy smiles whenever Grandpa would look at him. They were good buddies by the time Grandpa left.

Once again, we had so much help from kind friends and family members who went above and beyond. The prayers of so many held me up when I wanted to crumble. I felt them daily. Thank you for petitioning heaven for me and my family. We will never forget.