I was setting up a nursery six months ago and trying to decide whether to use cloth diapers or throwaway diapers. My life was about to turn upside down twice, and I had no idea it would.It began with a dull pain in my thigh. I thought it might have something to do with being pregnant, like a twisted nerve or sciatica. Things got worse. I got through it because I wanted to enjoy every moment with my daughter Liora after she was born. I was crazy about that new baby smell and those little fingers. But the pain got worse over time. I was so weak in the morning that I couldn’t even rock her.
I finally got scanned. That’s how the doctor looked when he or she walked in. The one that says “this isn’t going to be simple.” It was a rare type of soft tissue cancer that spread quickly and was very deadly. I remember holding on to the edge of the hospital bed and thinking, “I just gave birth.” Canc3r takes up too much of my time.
Chemo started right away. My milk ran out. Most nights, I had to give Liora to my mom because I couldn’t stop throwing up. The growth then spread to my thigh bone. They told me that cutting off my limb would improve my chances. I didn’t cry when I signed the papers because I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for me.
I woke up from surgery with only one leg and a lot of guilt. I wasn’t able to carry my baby. When she learned to crawl, I couldn’t chase her. I bought a dress for her naming event but I couldn’t wear it.
I’m still here, though.That was three weeks ago. I’ve begun exercise. Liora has new teeth. Also, I saw something I wasn’t meant to see in my medical file this morning. They didn’t tell me about a scan. Now I’m not sure if they’re telling the truth or if I’m about to get into another fight.
I walked back and forth in my small living room on my crutches, holding that scary scan document in my hand. It felt like my heart was beating fast in my throat. I thought about calling my doctor right away, but I didn’t because I was afraid of making a mistake. A lot of medical terms were used in the report, but one word stood out: “suspicious lesion in the right lung.” I don’t remember anyone talking about my lungs. My whole attention was on my leg.
Finally, I called the office of my doctor. They weren’t open today. I had another meeting the following week, but I just couldn’t wait that long. Something terrible was going through my mind: had the canc3r spread?Fecoya.co.uk
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In six months, I gave birth, lost my leg, and fought canc3r.
By World WideMarch 29, 2025No Comments10 Mins Read
I was setting up a nursery six months ago and trying to decide whether to use cloth diapers or throwaway diapers. My life was about to turn upside down twice, and I had no idea it would.
It began with a dull pain in my thigh. I thought it might have something to do with being pregnant, like a twisted nerve or sciatica. Things got worse. I got through it because I wanted to enjoy every moment with my daughter Liora after she was born. I was crazy about that new baby smell and those little fingers. But the pain got worse over time. I was so weak in the morning that I couldn’t even rock her.
I finally got scanned. That’s how the doctor looked when he or she walked in. The one that says “this isn’t going to be simple.” It was a rare type of soft tissue cancer that spread quickly and was very deadly. I remember holding on to the edge of the hospital bed and thinking, “I just gave birth.” Canc3r takes up too much of my time.
Chemo started right away. My milk ran out. Most nights, I had to give Liora to my mom because I couldn’t stop throwing up. The growth then spread to my thigh bone. They told me that cutting off my limb would improve my chances. I didn’t cry when I signed the papers because I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for me.
I woke up from surgery with only one leg and a lot of guilt. I wasn’t able to carry my baby. When she learned to crawl, I couldn’t chase her. I bought a dress for her naming event but I couldn’t wear it.
I’m still here, though.
That was three weeks ago. I’ve begun exercise. Liora has new teeth. Also, I saw something I wasn’t meant to see in my medical file this morning. They didn’t tell me about a scan. Now I’m not sure if they’re telling the truth or if I’m about to get into another fight.
I walked back and forth in my small living room on my crutches, holding that scary scan document in my hand. It felt like my heart was beating fast in my throat. I thought about calling my doctor right away, but I didn’t because I was afraid of making a mistake. A lot of medical terms were used in the report, but one word stood out: “suspicious lesion in the right lung.” I don’t remember anyone talking about my lungs. My whole attention was on my leg.
Finally, I called the office of my doctor. They weren’t open today. I had another meeting the following week, but I just couldn’t wait that long. Something terrible was going through my mind: had the canc3r spread?
The next few days were a blur of trying to get back to normal and not being able to sleep. The only thing that kept me grounded were Liora’s bright eyes and drooly grin. When I fed her, I held her close and rubbed my nose against her soft cheek to calm my rushing thoughts. When I passed out from physical and mental exhaustion, my mom took over feeding me late at night. I knew that she was also scared. I pretended to be okay when she asked me over and over if I was okay. Our lives were already very stressful, and I didn’t want to add to it.
What a strange feeling it was to walk into my meeting on the day of the event. There was a lot of talk in the hospital hallways about chemo, surgery, and the fear I had been feeling for months. The cleanser that had been around me for so long was so strong I could smell it. This time, though, I pushed my wheelchair to my oncologist’s office because my stump was too sore from physical therapy to use crutches for such a long haul.
My oncologist, Dr. Armitage, met me with the same serious but kind look. I didn’t even wait for a chat. “I found a note about a lump in my right lung that seems odd.” Is it canc3r? “Why did no one tell me?”
He let out a sigh and looked truly sorry. “I wanted to make sure of the results before alarming you.” There’s a small spot on your lung, but we’re not sure if it’s canc3rous yet.
The word “malignant” hit me like a ton of bricks, but I tried to keep my cool. Now I knew the truth, at least. The next week was set aside for another scan, and if needed, a sample would follow.Fecoya.co.uk
Latest
In six months, I gave birth, lost my leg, and fought canc3r.
By World WideMarch 29, 2025No Comments10 Mins Read
I was setting up a nursery six months ago and trying to decide whether to use cloth diapers or throwaway diapers. My life was about to turn upside down twice, and I had no idea it would.
It began with a dull pain in my thigh. I thought it might have something to do with being pregnant, like a twisted nerve or sciatica. Things got worse. I got through it because I wanted to enjoy every moment with my daughter Liora after she was born. I was crazy about that new baby smell and those little fingers. But the pain got worse over time. I was so weak in the morning that I couldn’t even rock her.
I finally got scanned. That’s how the doctor looked when he or she walked in. The one that says “this isn’t going to be simple.” It was a rare type of soft tissue cancer that spread quickly and was very deadly. I remember holding on to the edge of the hospital bed and thinking, “I just gave birth.” Canc3r takes up too much of my time.
Chemo started right away. My milk ran out. Most nights, I had to give Liora to my mom because I couldn’t stop throwing up. The growth then spread to my thigh bone. They told me that cutting off my limb would improve my chances. I didn’t cry when I signed the papers because I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for me.
I woke up from surgery with only one leg and a lot of guilt. I wasn’t able to carry my baby. When she learned to crawl, I couldn’t chase her. I bought a dress for her naming event but I couldn’t wear it.
I’m still here, though.
That was three weeks ago. I’ve begun exercise. Liora has new teeth. Also, I saw something I wasn’t meant to see in my medical file this morning. They didn’t tell me about a scan. Now I’m not sure if they’re telling the truth or if I’m about to get into another fight.
I walked back and forth in my small living room on my crutches, holding that scary scan document in my hand. It felt like my heart was beating fast in my throat. I thought about calling my doctor right away, but I didn’t because I was afraid of making a mistake. A lot of medical terms were used in the report, but one word stood out: “suspicious lesion in the right lung.” I don’t remember anyone talking about my lungs. My whole attention was on my leg.
Finally, I called the office of my doctor. They weren’t open today. I had another meeting the following week, but I just couldn’t wait that long. Something terrible was going through my mind: had the canc3r spread?
The next few days were a blur of trying to get back to normal and not being able to sleep. The only thing that kept me grounded were Liora’s bright eyes and drooly grin. When I fed her, I held her close and rubbed my nose against her soft cheek to calm my rushing thoughts. When I passed out from physical and mental exhaustion, my mom took over feeding me late at night. I knew that she was also scared. I pretended to be okay when she asked me over and over if I was okay. Our lives were already very stressful, and I didn’t want to add to it.
What a strange feeling it was to walk into my meeting on the day of the event. There was a lot of talk in the hospital hallways about chemo, surgery, and the fear I had been feeling for months. The cleanser that had been around me for so long was so strong I could smell it. This time, though, I pushed my wheelchair to my oncologist’s office because my stump was too sore from physical therapy to use crutches for such a long haul.
My oncologist, Dr. Armitage, met me with the same serious but kind look. I didn’t even wait for a chat. “I found a note about a lump in my right lung that seems odd.” Is it canc3r? “Why did no one tell me?”
He let out a sigh and looked truly sorry. “I wanted to make sure of the results before alarming you.” There’s a small spot on your lung, but we’re not sure if it’s canc3rous yet.
The word “malignant” hit me like a ton of bricks, but I tried to keep my cool. Now I knew the truth, at least. The next week was set aside for another scan, and if needed, a sample would follow.
The next few days were strange. As I tried to follow Liora’s routine, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was fit enough to see her grow up every time she laughed or reached out her arms. My thoughts went to very bad places. Physical therapy was the only way for me to deal with things. I was eager to learn how to use my new prosthetic leg.
It was there that I met a woman named Saoirse. She lost her leg in a car crash many years ago. She was cool and controlled, which was the exact opposite of how I felt inside. She taught me little tricks that helped me balance better, turn without falling over, and get rid of the pains that would come back at night. She also told her own story. She wasn’t just a trauma victim; she was also a single mom who raised her son after her husband died of a stroke. Hearing her story made me feel stronger in some way. She had been through more grief than most people could imagine, but she was still telling me to fight for my future.
“Keep your heart open,” she told me as we walked in a room with mirrors one afternoon. “Kindness will surprise you.” You will too, once you understand how strong you are.
I paid attention to what you said.
After a week, the day of my new scan came. We both kept quiet on the way to the hospital in my mom’s car. We had already thought about every possible outcome a dozen times. This was the last piece of the puzzle that would tell me if I needed more care or if I could just focus on getting better.
