Help Patti Kick Cancer
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My name is Patti, and I am surviving endometrial cancer. My cancer war began in March of 2017, and I was officially diagnosed in June, 2017. It’s been a tough fight, but God has equipped me with faith and the loving support of family, friends, students, and my health care team. He continues to answer my prayers. With all He has done, I have hesitated to ask for much financial help. My medical insurance is the “free” version provided by my employer, which means the annual out of pocket numbers are very high. The amount I am seeking represents the two year’s out of pocket expenses which I have not been able to fully cover on my teacher’s salary. I continue to receive excellent care and want to be able to promptly pay those who have provided it in good faith. But I cannot simultaneously do that and also maintain a roof over my head or food on the table. So I am asking for help. I am more thankful than I can verbalize for those of you who are in a position to contribute. And I am equally thankful for the prayers of support from those who would like to, but cannot.
Here’s the rest of my story. Not my whole story, just my cancer story. Thanks for reading, and for the prayers and help.
Although my diagnosis happened in June, 2017, the story starts earlier, with over a year of severe pain and continuous bleeding. After a couple of meetings with my gynecologist, in March and April of 2017, we determined that a D&C was necessary, which was my first surgery. In May, right after school ended, I had that procedure. My gynecologist, Dr. Young, went on vacation the next day - but he called me repeatedly, even while on vacation, to check in on me, at first, and then to deliver the news himself that they had found cancer. (To say I have been blessed by caring medical professionals throughout this process would be an understatement. God used many doctors and nurses to make my way smoother, and I am grateful.)
Dr. Young wanted me to get into the gynecological oncologist ASAP, and when I tried to make the appointment they gave me a date at the end of August. Dr. Young was not satisfied, and even though he was still on vacation, he took the time to call the oncologist and work out an earlier appointment for me. I ended up seeing Dr. Indermaur a couple of weeks later, and we scheduled the earliest possible surgery. With my kind of cancer, they couldn't tell for sure what stage it was until the surgery, so although we knew I had cancer, we didn't know the severity of it yet.
On July 7, I had my second surgery. Originally, we had planned for a hysterectomy with the removal of the uterus, but leaving the ovaries intact. Although a bit over the traditional age, I was engaged to be married, and I just wasn't ready to give up all options of biological motherhood if I didn't have to do so. I had agreed, however, that my doctor would make the final decision during surgery, and if she felt that they needed to be removed, as well, for my best chance at survival, she had my permission to go ahead. Unfortunately, that turned out to be the case. The surgery took several hours longer than usual, due to some complications that developed, and again I was blessed to have an amazing surgeon and medical team working to keep me alive.
When I met with the surgeon a couple of weeks later, she was able to give me more information about my cancer. They found malignant cells which had spread beyond my uterus to my cervix, and also found them in some of the pelvic lymph nodes they had sampled. The news was not good. I had genuinely hoped that surgery would be all that was required. Unfortunately, my cancer was at Stage III c 1, which means that aggressive treatment was called for - I would need what they call "sandwich therapy": chemo, then radiation (both external and internal), and then more chemo.
Shortly after learning this, and sharing the news with my family, my father had a massive brain stem stroke, and was hospitalized for months. In a way, sitting at his bedside in the ICU helped me put things in perspective. Yes, my life was changing rapidly in ways I didn't care for - but I still had a lot to live for and many people who needed me. Knowing I was needed helped me because I had no time to feel sorry for myself. I might have cancer, but as my fiancee Donnie said: "you won't have it for long". At least, that was my goal.
When we learned about the staging of the cancer and the aggressive treatment I would need, Donnie and I had a long talk about our plans. We were scheduled to be married in October, and had money saved for that and for our honeymoon. All of that money, and more, would have to be used for medical bills. And there was no way I would enjoy a honeymoon during chemo treatments. So we cancelled the honeymoon trip, and decided not to have a caterer or some of the other frills we had saved for.... but we didn't want to give up on the wedding. Again, we were blessed. Friends stepped up to help us with the wedding, and we felt like we could go ahead.
Still recovering from the hysterectomy, it was time to go back to work. My co-workers had been informed of my illness and my surgeries, and were beyond supportive and helpful. When I walked into the room on our first day back, as everyone was lined up for the group picture, they erupted in cheers and applause. It's hard not to feel loved after that. A day or so after work resumed, I got a haircut, in preparation for all the loss I knew was coming. My awesome friend Geri took off about ten inches, which we saved in two pony tails, in case I decided I wanted a wig from them.
Time for my third procedure, and it was the installation of a port to use for the chemo medicine. The surgeon did his best, but I still ended up with a scar, and had an unfortunate allergic reaction to the stuff they use to clean your skin before surgery. My students noticed the scar and bandage, and it was time to tell them about my condition. They were loving and kind, and we were all hopeful for the best.
Hurricane Irma came, and Donnie and I evacuated to stay with friends, because our house is wood frame and not rated to handle high winds. We enjoyed their generosity, though I was sick a lot of the time, and worked on wedding plans. My hair was falling out, but we were happy.
Donnie and I had just had our final pre-marital meeting with Pastor Brent, and the wedding was 10 days away. I was still at the church when Donnie called. He'd been in an accident, but he couldn't talk because the EMTs were there to work on him. And then he hung up. It took me hours to find him - they transported him all the way to Lakeland, which was the nearest trauma center accepting patients at the time. I have to admit that I started to feel, at this point, that it was all more than anyone should be expected to handle at once. But even in the midst of all of that, there were constant reminders of God's presence. I was sitting in the ICU (with Donnie, this time), and in walks Sam Ramirez, a pastor who I had known years ago at Lake Magdalene UMC. He was one of the hospital's chaplains. It was a gentle reminder that the God I had always loved had never stopped loving me.
I went to find the totaled car Donnie had been driving, which had been my mother's car, and emptied it of all of our belongings, with help from my sister Julie. It was unseasonably hot, and I got weak. But we finished it, and I got to chemo that day, and for a change I was happy to be sitting in that recliner - the room was cool and Dr. Reza and her nursing staff were friendly, and I fell asleep.
Donnie had broken his ankle in several places, as well as three ribs and a finger. He was bruised all over, and had a flare up of his liver condition which increased the complications and made his case anything but simple. We told Lakeland Regional of the wedding date, but he needed more surgery. And it finally became obvious that we would have to postpone the wedding.
Chemo continued - and all the hair was gone. I had pretty good meds to help with nausea, but nothing prepared me for the exhaustion and the weakness. Again, God came through with amazing co-workers who pitched in to help me keep working. I had to take a break from some of my musical contributions at church, although I played my horn as much as possible, because I needed some music in my life. (And I can play it sitting down!)
Donnie finally came home from the hospital, although he would need another surgery and another stay before he really turned a corner. And I started radiation. I had been told that the chemo was worse than the radiation. I found that to be untrue. The radiation was incredibly painful and caused even worse side effects that the chemo had. But I had a wonderful doctor, Dr. Koval, who was very gentle, and we got through it.
I had a short break between external and internal radiation in January, and Donnie and I were finally able to have our wedding. It was a beautiful day, and so many of our friends pitched in to make it possible. All of the money I'd been saving for the wedding had gone to medical bills, and friends and family stepped up to provide food, cake, my wig, the dress, decorations, even the music... it was such a love-filled day, and thanks to my matron of honor and her sweet husband and daughter, my dad was able to be there and "roll" me down the aisle. (Well, I walked, and he rolled, pushed by our friend Dave.) Daddy was even able to answer Pastor Brent, in his own words and his own inimitable way. When Pastor Brent asked who gives me to be married.... Daddy said: "her blessed mother, her blessed sister, her family, and the assembled multitude". And people wonder where I get my love of words!
The wedding was definitely a bright spot in a really hard time. The internal radiation was the worst yet. I lost all composure during those procedures, crying and screaming in pain. Again, my doctor was caring and kind. I was blessed.
In the spring, chemo started again, and the little bit of hair I had for the wedding was gone again. I started to feel the cumulative effects of all of the procedures, and suffered from severe anemia on top of everything else. And my port started acting up, so I had to have additional appointments with the surgeon to get things going again. Finally, I had what we think is my last chemo.
But although this phase of the treatment is over, the medical issues and bills continue. Regular CT scans and MRIs, port flushes and follow-ups, continuing struggles with weakness, anemia, and back pain from my surgeries, mean that the fight is not over.
Here’s the rest of my story. Not my whole story, just my cancer story. Thanks for reading, and for the prayers and help.
Although my diagnosis happened in June, 2017, the story starts earlier, with over a year of severe pain and continuous bleeding. After a couple of meetings with my gynecologist, in March and April of 2017, we determined that a D&C was necessary, which was my first surgery. In May, right after school ended, I had that procedure. My gynecologist, Dr. Young, went on vacation the next day - but he called me repeatedly, even while on vacation, to check in on me, at first, and then to deliver the news himself that they had found cancer. (To say I have been blessed by caring medical professionals throughout this process would be an understatement. God used many doctors and nurses to make my way smoother, and I am grateful.)
Dr. Young wanted me to get into the gynecological oncologist ASAP, and when I tried to make the appointment they gave me a date at the end of August. Dr. Young was not satisfied, and even though he was still on vacation, he took the time to call the oncologist and work out an earlier appointment for me. I ended up seeing Dr. Indermaur a couple of weeks later, and we scheduled the earliest possible surgery. With my kind of cancer, they couldn't tell for sure what stage it was until the surgery, so although we knew I had cancer, we didn't know the severity of it yet.
On July 7, I had my second surgery. Originally, we had planned for a hysterectomy with the removal of the uterus, but leaving the ovaries intact. Although a bit over the traditional age, I was engaged to be married, and I just wasn't ready to give up all options of biological motherhood if I didn't have to do so. I had agreed, however, that my doctor would make the final decision during surgery, and if she felt that they needed to be removed, as well, for my best chance at survival, she had my permission to go ahead. Unfortunately, that turned out to be the case. The surgery took several hours longer than usual, due to some complications that developed, and again I was blessed to have an amazing surgeon and medical team working to keep me alive.
When I met with the surgeon a couple of weeks later, she was able to give me more information about my cancer. They found malignant cells which had spread beyond my uterus to my cervix, and also found them in some of the pelvic lymph nodes they had sampled. The news was not good. I had genuinely hoped that surgery would be all that was required. Unfortunately, my cancer was at Stage III c 1, which means that aggressive treatment was called for - I would need what they call "sandwich therapy": chemo, then radiation (both external and internal), and then more chemo.
Shortly after learning this, and sharing the news with my family, my father had a massive brain stem stroke, and was hospitalized for months. In a way, sitting at his bedside in the ICU helped me put things in perspective. Yes, my life was changing rapidly in ways I didn't care for - but I still had a lot to live for and many people who needed me. Knowing I was needed helped me because I had no time to feel sorry for myself. I might have cancer, but as my fiancee Donnie said: "you won't have it for long". At least, that was my goal.
When we learned about the staging of the cancer and the aggressive treatment I would need, Donnie and I had a long talk about our plans. We were scheduled to be married in October, and had money saved for that and for our honeymoon. All of that money, and more, would have to be used for medical bills. And there was no way I would enjoy a honeymoon during chemo treatments. So we cancelled the honeymoon trip, and decided not to have a caterer or some of the other frills we had saved for.... but we didn't want to give up on the wedding. Again, we were blessed. Friends stepped up to help us with the wedding, and we felt like we could go ahead.
Still recovering from the hysterectomy, it was time to go back to work. My co-workers had been informed of my illness and my surgeries, and were beyond supportive and helpful. When I walked into the room on our first day back, as everyone was lined up for the group picture, they erupted in cheers and applause. It's hard not to feel loved after that. A day or so after work resumed, I got a haircut, in preparation for all the loss I knew was coming. My awesome friend Geri took off about ten inches, which we saved in two pony tails, in case I decided I wanted a wig from them.
Time for my third procedure, and it was the installation of a port to use for the chemo medicine. The surgeon did his best, but I still ended up with a scar, and had an unfortunate allergic reaction to the stuff they use to clean your skin before surgery. My students noticed the scar and bandage, and it was time to tell them about my condition. They were loving and kind, and we were all hopeful for the best.
Hurricane Irma came, and Donnie and I evacuated to stay with friends, because our house is wood frame and not rated to handle high winds. We enjoyed their generosity, though I was sick a lot of the time, and worked on wedding plans. My hair was falling out, but we were happy.
Donnie and I had just had our final pre-marital meeting with Pastor Brent, and the wedding was 10 days away. I was still at the church when Donnie called. He'd been in an accident, but he couldn't talk because the EMTs were there to work on him. And then he hung up. It took me hours to find him - they transported him all the way to Lakeland, which was the nearest trauma center accepting patients at the time. I have to admit that I started to feel, at this point, that it was all more than anyone should be expected to handle at once. But even in the midst of all of that, there were constant reminders of God's presence. I was sitting in the ICU (with Donnie, this time), and in walks Sam Ramirez, a pastor who I had known years ago at Lake Magdalene UMC. He was one of the hospital's chaplains. It was a gentle reminder that the God I had always loved had never stopped loving me.
I went to find the totaled car Donnie had been driving, which had been my mother's car, and emptied it of all of our belongings, with help from my sister Julie. It was unseasonably hot, and I got weak. But we finished it, and I got to chemo that day, and for a change I was happy to be sitting in that recliner - the room was cool and Dr. Reza and her nursing staff were friendly, and I fell asleep.
Donnie had broken his ankle in several places, as well as three ribs and a finger. He was bruised all over, and had a flare up of his liver condition which increased the complications and made his case anything but simple. We told Lakeland Regional of the wedding date, but he needed more surgery. And it finally became obvious that we would have to postpone the wedding.
Chemo continued - and all the hair was gone. I had pretty good meds to help with nausea, but nothing prepared me for the exhaustion and the weakness. Again, God came through with amazing co-workers who pitched in to help me keep working. I had to take a break from some of my musical contributions at church, although I played my horn as much as possible, because I needed some music in my life. (And I can play it sitting down!)
Donnie finally came home from the hospital, although he would need another surgery and another stay before he really turned a corner. And I started radiation. I had been told that the chemo was worse than the radiation. I found that to be untrue. The radiation was incredibly painful and caused even worse side effects that the chemo had. But I had a wonderful doctor, Dr. Koval, who was very gentle, and we got through it.
I had a short break between external and internal radiation in January, and Donnie and I were finally able to have our wedding. It was a beautiful day, and so many of our friends pitched in to make it possible. All of the money I'd been saving for the wedding had gone to medical bills, and friends and family stepped up to provide food, cake, my wig, the dress, decorations, even the music... it was such a love-filled day, and thanks to my matron of honor and her sweet husband and daughter, my dad was able to be there and "roll" me down the aisle. (Well, I walked, and he rolled, pushed by our friend Dave.) Daddy was even able to answer Pastor Brent, in his own words and his own inimitable way. When Pastor Brent asked who gives me to be married.... Daddy said: "her blessed mother, her blessed sister, her family, and the assembled multitude". And people wonder where I get my love of words!
The wedding was definitely a bright spot in a really hard time. The internal radiation was the worst yet. I lost all composure during those procedures, crying and screaming in pain. Again, my doctor was caring and kind. I was blessed.
In the spring, chemo started again, and the little bit of hair I had for the wedding was gone again. I started to feel the cumulative effects of all of the procedures, and suffered from severe anemia on top of everything else. And my port started acting up, so I had to have additional appointments with the surgeon to get things going again. Finally, I had what we think is my last chemo.
But although this phase of the treatment is over, the medical issues and bills continue. Regular CT scans and MRIs, port flushes and follow-ups, continuing struggles with weakness, anemia, and back pain from my surgeries, mean that the fight is not over.
Organizer
Patti Husbands DuBose
Organizer
Dade City, FL
