artificial insemination kit for humans
It was confirmed on a Thursday morning: colon cancer. Just a week prior, I had awoken from anesthesia to find my doctor looking directly at me, and all I could focus on was the word “tumor.” It’s nearly impossible to articulate the sensation that floods over you upon hearing that word. It envelops you, a heavy, suffocating weight that feels both like you’re floating and plummeting simultaneously—though perhaps that was just the lingering effects of the medication. My breath caught in my throat, reminiscent of the moment during my CT scan the next day when a mechanical voice commanded me to “hold your breath.” I wish that voice had been there in recovery, as the next prompt was simply to breathe.
I had been anxious about this diagnosis. I’m still young at thirty-seven, yet for months I sensed something amiss. Friends and family were quick to dismiss my concerns—“You’re too young,” they said. “You’re too pretty,” others chimed in, as if illness chooses its victims based on age or appearance. Cancer, however, is indifferent.
My first encounter with illness happened when I was just seven. I was jolted awake by sharp pains and the sensation of needles. I attempted to escape, but I was immobilized, pinned under the sheets that felt searing against my skin. After more than a month in the hospital, doctors concluded I likely had rheumatic fever, but they couldn’t explain why I survived.
There’s a strange familiarity in the face of illness. The fear is daunting. But this time, it’s different: I’m a mother and a wife. People depend on me, and I live for them. I’m not lying in a hospital bed watching cartoons, sneaking cookies when no one is looking. Now, I’m on my couch next to the baby monitor, my puppy curled at my feet, pondering how challenging this journey will be.
It’s significant for me to be questioning how difficult this will be rather than worrying about how much time I have left with my son and husband. The latter thought occupied my mind most of the past week, leaving me devastated and tear-stained in my husband’s embrace, who is the steady rock in this storm.
I feel scared and overwhelmed, but I’m not sure which overwhelms me more: the fear or the kindness I’ve encountered. When I came to in the hospital, my doctor held my arm and, with a soothing voice, informed me of her findings. She was direct and confident, commending me for trusting my instincts. She assured me I would be okay (though I doubted her), and she comforted me, saying I had done everything right. When my husband and I picked up our son from school, I collapsed into his arms that night, sobbing with fear.
The next day, I received a call from Laura, a nurse at the endoscopy center who had been informed of my situation. My doctor asked her to reach out because she herself is eleven years post-colon cancer. Laura offered to support me throughout my cancer journey. I cried after hanging up the phone, both terrified and grateful.
When the insurance company called to verify my CT scan, scheduled for just over a day after the colonoscopy, I expressed my gratitude for having good coverage. The woman on the other end teared up, apologizing for her emotional response, and we ended up crying together. She visualized my face surrounded by light. I hung up feeling overwhelmed with gratitude—strangers were sending prayers and love my way.
It seems you don’t truly recognize God until it’s undeniable. I see Him everywhere now: in the texts and calls from friends, in the voices of strangers, and in the hugs from new acquaintances. This experience is terrifying, yet it reveals the beauty of how we can care for one another when it matters most.
I’m uncertain of what lies ahead. I don’t know the extent of what’s inside me or the treatments I may need to undergo. However, I sense I’m moving from fear to acceptance, ready to listen to my doctors and confront this challenge head-on. With this incredible community rallying around me, I know I will rise, even when I stumble.
In this first week, I’ve learned three crucial things:
- Crying doesn’t ruin makeup when it’s only on the upper eyelids.
- Destiny’s Child and Christina Aguilera have made a comeback on my playlist with “Survivor” and “Fighter,” and I’m all for it.
- Kindness is abundant and powerful enough to lift you from the depths if you reach for it.
If you’re interested in exploring more about home insemination, check out this blog post on home insemination kits. For those looking into artificial insemination options, Cryobaby’s home intracervical insemination syringe kit is a valuable resource. Additionally, Healthline provides excellent information on pregnancy and home insemination.
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In summary, at 37 years old, I face a colon cancer diagnosis that has brought fear, uncertainty, and unexpected kindness into my life. With the support of my family and community, I aim to confront this challenge head-on, learning valuable lessons about strength and compassion along the way.