I’ve been on such an emotional roller-coaster the last several months since discovering I have Lynch Syndrome, and these last several days have been no exception. After undergoing bladder surgery (TURBT, or transurethral resection of a bladder tumor) last week for a mass presumed to be cancer (because most bladder tumors are, apparently) and getting a round of chemo washed into my bladder at the same time to help prevent recurrence, I opened my pathology results a day later to read this: “Urothelial papilloma with no evidence of malignancy.” What? WHAT? I don’t have cancer? Am I reading that right?
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I’m currently living on railroad tracks, and I don’t know if a train is going to come and eventually crash into me. Are the tracks deserted or active? Heck if I know! If you were on these tracks, what would you do? Stay on the tracks and let that possible train come tomorrow or next month or next year or when you’re 60? 65? 70? (Or, not me, but 40?) Well, it’s been a little scary for me lately coming to the acceptance that my home was built over railroad tracks. I’ve worked really hard to take care of my
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