7 months & 121 pounds lost (with pics)!

I'm sharing my story in hopes that I can make a few friends on here. I also want to show people how amazing the human body (and spirit) really is -- and that NO situation, no matter how dire, is without hope. You see, because mine isn't just a weight loss story. I am a cancer survivor.

Before I delve too much into that, I should probably give you all a little back-story. Cancer is something that has always been a huge part of my life. My Mom got sick with Hodgkin's Lymphoma when I was 8 years old. She was sick for years. The chemotherapy used to 'treat' her first cancer only resulted in a second -- Myelodysplastic Syndrome, which is an early form of Leukemia. While my Mom was sick, my siblings and I were being raised by my Dad with help from my Grandparents. I grew up particularly close to my Mom's Mom as a result of this.

Although the doctors said that my Mom wouldn't live more than 6 months (after being diagnosed with Myelodsysplastic Syndrome), they threw in a last ditch effort to save her life (a stem cell transplant). I was 14 years old at that time. I expected the worst, but hoped for the best. Miraculously, she survived. She became my role model. (Interestingly enough, when she was 18, she and her Mom lost a bunch of weight together. My Grandma lost 90 pounds and my Mom lost over 100 pounds & won a trip to Montreal. So you can sort of see how their story has really influenced mine.)

In 2008, My Grandma (my Mom's Mom) got sick with HER second cancer (she and her husband had had skin cancer at one point in their lives). The doctors believed it originated in the stomach, but by the time they caught it, it was too far along to be for sure. She passed away in May of that year.

In 2009, both my Dad and I started getting sick. We had nearly identical symptoms. Chronic fevers, chronic infections, dizziness, malaise, and fatigue -- just to name a few. My Dad refused to go to the doctor. I, on the other hand, had no other choice. I was working in a nursing home and I had to call in every single time I had a fever. I had to go to a doctor to make sure I wasn't sick with something contagious, otherwise that puts the residents at risk. It was around this time that I started gaining weight (although I've always been overweight/obese and was around 220 pounds before I started gaining weight due to being ill). The doctors could confirm this or that chronic illness (lots of upper respiratory infections, sinusitis, feminine problems, tonsillitis, strep throat, etc.), but they couldn't determine a source. I knew it was cancer, but the blood work came back negative for it. They kept treating each infection, but nothing could stop the fevers.

Then, one afternoon in October 2009, my sister's boyfriend found my Dad on the ground of my parent's front lawn. He had tried to take out the trash and got super dizzy, fell, and couldn't get back up. When my Mom got home from work, she took him to the emergency room. They found a large tumor in his brain. Shortly after, they found 8 other tumors scattered throughout his brain. It was cancer, and it had originated in the kidneys. He was already in the final stage.

In December 2009, as my Dad got sicker & sicker, so did I. My tonsils had swelled up so bad that they had begun to interfere with my ability to breath. I had to have surgery. Having your tonsils & adenoids out at any age is no fun, but especially not at 23. I had my surgery on December 19th. The ENT told my parents that they were the worst tonsils he'd ever seen -- full of poison. I spent my recovery at my parent's house. It was an especially difficult time because my Dad was no longer mentally "there", and would forget that I couldn't speak because of the surgery I'd just had. So he would get mad at me when I couldn't respond to whatever he was trying to tell me. We spent Christmas snowed in without any power. It was miserable.

On March 10th, 2010, my Dad passed away. He was only 53.

I continued being ill. But, at that point, I was so depressed that nothing mattered anymore. I started gaining weight fast, and the emotional eating did not help. I missed too much work and lost my job. I lost my car. I lost my apartment. I moved back in with my Mom at the end of September 2010. I wanted to die. So, I stopped going to see a doctor for my chronic conditions and fevers.

The next few years were spent in hell. I tried to get a few things going again at different points -- school, work, etc -- but nothing ever worked out. I got sicker. I got fatter. So, I gave up on trying. I lost a lot of friends. They thought I was just fat and depressed. They didn't believe I was sick, because there really was no evidence that it was anything other than psychosomatic. But I knew. My hair was turning gray. My limbs were retaining lots of fluid. I hurt everywhere, all the time. I even lost a tooth, even though I've always been meticulous about my dental hygiene. My period had always been irregular, but this had sunken to new lows. I went from not having my period for over a year to bleeding for two years without cessation.

In December of 2011, I nearly passed out at the wheel of the car. I came to as I was swerving in front of a semi. I couldn't breath. I was dizzy. I pulled over and gathered my wits about me before booking it to the nearest ER. I told them about all the problems I had been having, and about my period, and all they did was do blood work and take an X-Ray of my lungs. Their conclusion? I had a panic attack. You would have thought that they would do a pelvic exam, but they didn't.

It wasn't until June of 2012 that the culprit was found. My temperature had been 100+ degrees F for over a week. I was getting horrible stabbing pains in the right side of my abdomen. It got so bad that I was having a hard time getting up and out of chairs. I had planned to make an appointment with a doctor, but kept brushing it off. I figured that it would be the "same old, same old" and they would send me home none-the-wiser. One morning, however, I couldn't get out of the chair. It felt like something was ripping apart my insides. Fortunately, I had set the phone next to me. I called my Mom to tell her to take off work because I was going to call an ambulance. She suggested that she help me get out of the chair and into a car, but I told her there was no way. I couldn't stand up straight.

The rescue squad came and got me. Lots of tests were done. An ovarian tumor the size of a bowling ball is what they found. On June 19th, 2012, I had it removed. We didn't know beforehand how bad it was or what all would need to be taken out. We didn't even know if it had spread beyond the tumor. Fortunately, it hadn't, but it had just turned malignant. They were able to remove the cancer completely through surgery. I was so lucky. But I really believe that luck had nothing to do with it. I was meant to live. I lost my left ovary and my appendix.

However, my grief didn't end there. I experienced the most dreaded complication of surgery (particularly abdominal surgery) -- complete disruption of operation wound. I didn't heal after surgery. When the staples were removed, I opened right up. I was left with a hole in my gut the size of a bowling ball. I had to have emergency bedside surgery while wide awake. They had to cut out all of the sutures, some dead tissue, and stuff me full of gauze. (I can sympathize with turkeys!) I felt everything. Hands in my guts. Knives and scissors. Cutting. Ugh. It was my worst nightmare come to life. Shortly after, I was put on a wound vacuum. I had to visit a wound clinic three times a week for excruciatingly painful dressing changes and mini-operations (dead tissue had to be cut out every week and pig skin would have to be grafted into place). I was wounded for 9 months.

But it was because of that nightmare that I went through and survived, that I realized how strong I really was/am. If I could go through all of that and live to tell the tale, then what else was I capable of? While I was wounded, I vowed to lose the weight. And not just the weight that I gained with the tumor, but I promised to completely change my entire life.

Fortunately and unfortunately, this was in direct alignment with what I needed to do. In April 2013, shortly after the wound had closed, I found out that my body was in the process of developing a second cancer -- uterine cancer. It was caused by the same hormonal imbalance that was responsible for the tumor. The good news was that there were no actual cancer cells yet, but unless I got my hormones in check -- cancer would be the inevitable result. The bad news was that I also have a blood clotting disorder (Factor V Leiden), and hormonal treatments would put me at a great risk for blood clots. So, I was only left with one option to treat this imbalance: Weight loss/nutrition/exercise. So, I hopped to it!

I didn't join a gym or a special diet program. I ate what I knew I was supposed to eat, counted my calories, and sweated it out every day at home.

Not only have I lost 121 pounds, but I've already prevented the cancer from developing. I've got 59 more pounds to lose before I reach my goal weight. I have an upcoming scar revision surgery as well as loose skin removal surgery. I am the HAPPIEST I have ever been. And I couldn't have done it without the angels by my side.