Pre-Surgery Zen Achieved

My daVinici hysterectomy surgery to rid my body of my cancerous uterus is on Tuesday.  I keep waiting for my brain to start freaking out about it, but it hasn't yet. In fact, despite the fact that this is major surgery, I'll probably be feeling crappy for a good while, and I won't even know how progressed my cancer is until I wake up in recovery, I'm feeling a calm I haven't felt since before my symptoms began. Part of this zen comes from the fact that odds are in my favor (the grade of cancer I have is typically found in an early stage and has a favorable prognosis). But most of it comes from the fact that there is simply no point in worrying. At this point, whatever is down there is down there, and whether surgery is my cure or additional treatment is needed, Tuesday is my first step toward recovery.
 
This journey toward Zen has not been easy, and there is absolutely no way I could have gotten through it without my incredible support system, so in this final pre-surgery post, I want to send out some Thank Yous.

1. Mom and Dad.  Since my diagnosis, Mom has called me every single day to check in. (I usually talk to her weekly). She's received the brunt of my panic, has heard every unsavory symptom, and has reassured me every step of the way.  She's coming up to be with me during the surgery, and my only worry is her anxiety as she waits for the results. Dad has been a rock throughout this. Both he and I are the "suffer in silence" types, so I know he is far more worried than he's letting on. But, sometimes I need a rock, so I'm eternally grateful that he's willing to step up to the plate.

2. My brother. Mostly for helping me keep perspective with his dry, hilarious turn of phrase. When I told him my diagnosis, the prediction, and the treatment, he responded, "Well, Jenn, a star in the galaxy could  go supernova tomorrow, and then you won't have to worry about it."  And, really, who can argue with that? 

3.. My Comedy buddies. I am a mostly recovered stand-up comedian and an active comedy filmmaker/writer, so I have no shortage of hilarious people around me. Cancer has a way of changing how people perceive you, and some people treat you differently because you're "The Cancer Chick." Not once during this past month has any of my comedy buddies treated me as "Jenn+Cancer," because the tendency among comedians to laugh and poke fun at things 24/7 -- regardless how inappropriate -- trumps whatever personal disaster you're dealing with at the time. For instance, just because I have cancer doesn't mean I'm too busy to have this texted to me at 1:00 a.m.:

So thanks to all my comedy friends who've kept the hilarious texts, emails, and whatnot flowing without interruption since my uterus went haywire. 

3. My Lost Lullaby pals.  I am currently in production of a film called Lost Lullaby, and my crew has been amazing throughout my diagnosis.  My associate producer drove an hour out of her way just to have lunch with me after my surgeon's appointment. Our DP did the same after a day of shooting that I was too ill to attend, just so he could catch me up on the production and check in on me. During my Edgar Allan Poe funk a few weeks ago, the director texted me back and forth until 2:00 a.m, even though she had work the next day, and not a week goes by that I don't hear from or see my pal Jenn, even though she has chronic health issues of her own.  To all of you-- your support means everything to me.

4. The "rest." To the rest of my pals who defy a category, but have shown overwhelming support in the form of texts, FB messages, and (most importantly) late-night online requests to play the Wii.  Thank you, all.

Mom is arriving tomorrow for a few days of pre-surgery fun, so I'll likely not post again until after surgery.  See you all on the other side of my reproductive years.