So this week is the final post of Tumor Troubles. =( But don't worry, you can always check me out on my blog, Emojis, Corn, and Survival Tips for Teens! =D And if you check Google+ or Facebook, I'll try to keep you updated there. I haven't put anything up there yet because I didn't know if anyone was interested, but comment below if you want to hear updates about my condition. I'll gladly do it if people want. :)
Now, back to the final chapters of my story. As time went on, medicines increased and changed. It reached the point where I was taking triple the recommended adult dosage of my bromocriptine just so that my prolactin levels would go down. Along with this came some serious side effects; anxiety attacks, memory loss, and worst of all, depression (Not medically diagnosed depression, just the feeling of ). This came with a few incidences, though.
One thing doctors are notorious for doing is saying one thing and recanting it the next. This happened to me. A lot. And each time it hurt even more. The first time was with my vision. The doctors had led us to believe that it would all return after the procedure. We waited and waited, but with little results. We would visit my optometrists very frequently because we knew that something was wrong, but the guy had a terrible bedside manner and the appointments were...unpleasant (I'll spare you the gory details, but it included three hours of waiting in four different waiting rooms just for five minutes of him staring at a computer before telling us good-bye and ZERO information). When we finally did corner this guy and get him to spill the beans, he revealed to us shocking news: It wasn't ever getting better and he knew it all along. Apparently, he thought we knew. But how could we when the guy barely even looked at us half the time?
Things kept getting worse from there. Hormone therapy was no more than a patch taken twice a week with minimal results (They didn't want anything to come too fast, which was the opposite of my wishes). The tumor wasn't all gone (Once tissue is in there, it stays. No one enlightened us on this, and the doctor actually laughed as she explained it. I about dropped dead then and there). All these things may seem very small, but they were a big deal to me. I didn't like not knowing things and couldn't help but feel lied to. People would say, "They weren't lying, they just didn't know," but when you're in this situation, it feels like a lie. You're given hope and that hope is taken away. It's like stealing, but much worse.
There were also other occurrences. A company similar to "Make-A-Wish" said that they would grant me one, just to give them the list and they'd be off. My mom explained that my condition was not cancer or terminal, but they guaranteed that I was going to be getting it. Well, I guess they didn't understand what that meant because six weeks later, after calling them a gazillion times, my mom finally got a reply saying that I could forget the wish. The doctor in charge wanted to focus on - surprise, surprise - terminal cancer kids. Now, I could handle that. It was those people's money and they reserved the right to use it however they wanted to. What I had a harder time accepting was this: they didn't plan on telling us. They figured that we would forget about it or move on, so they didn't see the need in letting us know. In my opinion, that was just plain rude. I was entitled to an explanation, I was not a whiny seven-year-old. The fact that they treated me like an ignorant child is what made me angry. It wasn't like I was going to cry on the floor!
Anyway, things just kept getting worse and worse. I got severely depressed. I didn't know what to do. And that's when I started writing.
I had been looking for a job that I could do from home for awhile, but never really got that far. Freelance writing kept popping up, but I wasn't interested at the time. Then, my English class started a poetry unit. While other kids complained about how stupid it was, I delved into poetry like no one's business. I bought a notebook and dedicated it just to my art. It's about half-way full at the moment. I just swallowed it up.
This later led to things like writing on Teen Ink and my blog. I had tried blogging in the past, but it never led to much. Usually I just gave up after awhile. But this time I stuck with it. And Emojicorn has reached almost 3000 viewers in its infancy!
I still get depressed. Side effect of the medication. But I have been able to bounce back up more easily. Plus, I have God to help me out with it, (you can check out that part of the story here.) Life is not always easy, but at least we have Christ to get us through it.
Today, I'm in a bit of a waiting period. The doctors at my hospital can't help me much anymore. But I'm going to be spending some time in California this summer to see if a hospital there can do anything. Who knows? Maybe I'll even meet Hannah along the way. ;)
No matter what happens, though, I know it will be for the best. God has got it. I mean, He's led me this far!
The reason I'm telling my story is because somewhere in the great, big world is a person like me: Alone and scared and clueless about what to do. What I want that person to understand is that you are NOT alone. Your pain may be exclusive to you, but you're not the first to have to struggle. And you're not the first to BE THE FIRST, anyway. Sometimes being first sucks, I get that. But sometimes, like being first in line for chocolate cake =P, it's awesome.
Thanks so much for taking the time to read these past few weeks. I hope that they have inspired you or helped in some little way. What I'm hoping now is that you'll share this story with others and then, maybe they'll get inspired, too. Who knows? Maybe they'll become an inspire-er! Like the people who wrote this song!
To see more of Caroline's posts, check out her Facebook page. Also, don't forget to read her blog, Emojis, Corn, and Survival Tips for Teens, as well as Hannah's blog here. Have a great day and God bless you!