I have been thinking for a while as to what I wanted to do for my three-year anniversary of being cancer free. I have been told that I do not communicate the depth of what actually happened to me during my journey. So, March 23, 2024, being my three-year anniversary, I would like to share it with you.
In the summer of 2020, I was feeling some pain in my leg and found a small bump behind my knee. My self diagnostic told me it was a baker’s cyst. I called my doctor, and she asked me if I wanted to come in so she could look at it and drain it, if that is what it was. In October 2020, when the pain did not go away and I was feeling discomfort in my ankle as well, I met with my family doctor and we made an appointment with a specialist. It took four months. During that time, the bump grew and grew.
February 1, 2021, (I won’t forget this date, because that is my birthday), I met with the specialist. She took an ultrasound, so she could see where she could place the needle to drain it. Based on the ultrasound results, she told me that whatever was in my leg was solid and could not be drained. She sent me to get an x-ray. Later that same day, she called to tell me she had scheduled an MRI. I knew something was wrong at this point.
The MRI turned into a biopsy, a CT scan, and a PET scan. My emotions still had not registered. I was sent to see an orthopedic surgeon. As I sat in his office, he had the pictures of the MRI displayed and told me that I had a massive tumor, and that it had irregular cells. Cancer, I asked? Now my emotions were starting, and shock was setting in. Surgery was scheduled. I had a five-inch (12.6x10x6.8 cm) solitary, fibrous, malignant tumor, (sarcoma) removed from my leg. It was growing within the semimembranosus muscle (centre hamstring muscle) behind my left knee. The tumor, along with the muscle, and some tendons were completely removed during surgery on March 23, 2021. This resulted in a 12 1⁄2 inch incision down the back of my leg.
Eleven hours later, I was out of surgery and in the recovery area. As I woke, I saw the doctors. They came over and told me that they removed the tumor and they saved my leg. I looked up at the clock and it said 11:11. Since the tumor was isolated in the muscle, and they took the full muscle, both chemotherapy and radiation were not required. That was the first time since I was diagnosed that I actually cried. I cried crazy, ugly tears.
A month after surgery, an infection formed at the incision site behind my knee. I was re-admitted to hospital for drainage and antibiotic therapy. My incision finally closed completely in August 2021. Over the course of the next year, and relearning to walk, pain and swelling around the knee continued and affected my balance and way of life. Work was no longer an option.
In March 2022, during my follow-up MRI, another area of concern and possible recurrence were noted. On April 26, 2022, I was readmitted to hospital. During the operation, it was determined that the MRI was not showing another tumor, but a calcified infection from the previous year, forming a large abscess. The abscess was removed along with portions of my saphenous nerve that was damaged in the first surgery. This resulted in an 11 1⁄2 inch incision down the inside of my leg, and 11 days in the hospital.
Continuous neuropathy in the lower leg, and foot, (including numbing and burning feelings), and edema (fluid buildup) in the leg is constant. I was prescribed Lyrica after surgery. After a year on this drug, my tongue swelled up and my gums turned bright red. This was a major allergic reaction. I was then prescribed Nabilone. The synthetic THC in this drug just made me high.
Eventually I went to a medical marijuana doctor. Since my pain is localized, I started using 1:1 (CBD:THC) both as cream and as an oil three times a day. I have found this combination takes the pain from a 10 to a 4, without the high. Today, along with the neuropathy, I have limited feeling in my knee and down the front and inside of my left leg.
They say 11 is an angel number. I see the numbers 11:11 often; normally immediately after I make a decision. 11:11 is now tattooed on my leg, right above my second scar. For me, this is not the end, but writing my story is closure. I am living with pain, but I am living. I am not an angel yet, I am a survivor. I will keep dancing, and I will keep moving forward.
