I don’t know yet how bad my cancer is. I’m in the very beginning of the process where I’ve been told. Next I go for more tests.

Both my parents died from cancer. They both were stoic. My mother suffered awfully. My father was quiet about it. When he was at his worst he went out with a buddy and shot basketballs. I miss them, and now instead of recalling the good days like when we went fishing or when the three of us worked in the same theater together. 🎭 I remember their pain and struggles. My husband recently died from cancer about three years ago, so it’s been difficult pulling it all together. Due to the pandemic friends for a long time couldn’t come to visit. I don’t have anyone close enough, and I’m not well enough to go back to where I spent most of my life. I wouldn’t get treatment soon enough if I went back east, because I’d have to start the process all over again. I’m trying to keep from being upset with my now former MD who didn’t think I was ill. She told me that the nurse practitioner would take care of me. I probably wasted about a year before I found a doctor who is kind and examined me and set up a step by step set of things to do to have proper treatment. He can then send me to a specialist, whereas the other doctor didn’t seem to know what to do. A lot of time passed when I could have been properly diagnosed and started with treatment by a specialist. I was a little sick when my husband was fighting cancer then died. I took care of him as best I could and thought more about him. The pandemic hit. My MDs (one retired as the pandemic slowed down) and the best at that time which she could do was visit via a a video appointment. She did the best she could, but she couldn’t get a good look. The new MD, as I said above, didn’t seem to think anything major was wrong and turned me over to the nurse practitioner. I don’t like being angry, but I am. I was glad to find this place to talk with you who are friendly and considerate, sharing too.