Day 12: My Savior, My Friend


God never fails to amaze me.

This post is going to be a bit TMITYFSKTB (Too Much Information, Thank You For Sharing, KThanksBye!). You’ve been warned.

It’s been three months since my last period. (No, people, I’m not pregnant.) Something went wrong while I was undergoing treatment for my lymphoma; I think I moved one of my buttcheeks when I decided to breathe while I was being radiated on the abdomen (LOL-worthy, but not really) and as a consequence, I didn’t get my period for a few months (even after the treatment was complete). In January 2011, I decided to go to the OB to have it checked up and the doctor told me to get a blood test to check my hormone levels. Results came back saying that I was in post-menopausal stage and I was all WTF WHAT AM I? 80 YEARS OLD? But yeah, in simple terms, what happened was that I wasn’t producing the right amount of the follicle thing that causes monthly periods and the doctors’ best bet was that my ovaries got hit while I was undergoing radiation. My radiation oncologist already told me beforehand that something like this could happen so I wasn’t really surprised. But of course, I was still a bit depressed ’cause I wanted my life to go back to normal already. Without my monthly periods, I’m going to go all lola-like and have osteoporosis at such an early age. DEPRESSING, DIBA?!

What the OB then did was prescribe me some hormone pills just to “test” if it could still be normalized. She had a disclaimer, though. She said that the success rate of it was just 10 to 15%. Although that was a bit steep — I mean, hello, even my type of cancer had a higher success rate (85%!) — I wasn’t very worried ’cause after 10 months of struggle, I learned that I’m far from ordinary. I was part of the 85% and I was going to be part of that 15% too! God made me a survivor!

Fun Fact: Back in 1987, the airplane my mom was on did not land properly. It went past the runway, right through South Luzon Expressway. Although there weren’t any casualties, as standard procedure, everyone had to go through a medical check-up. My mom found out then from the doctor that she was pregnant, although at first they were a bit skeptical ’cause they couldn’t find Abby The Fetus right away. Turns out, I hid behind one of her organs (if that’s even possible). Basta, as a defense mechanism, I hid somewhere so I wouldn’t get hurt. (Ooh, you can totally relate this to Present Abby’s personality, hahaha!)

I’M A SURVIVOR, I TELL YOU!

So yeah, short story: the OB’s “test” was successful. I’m officially part of the 15%. Heh. The pills made me fat(ter), though, and my mom wasn’t too keen on the idea of me taking too much meds so I’ve been taking the pills on and off. The last time I had another go at the pills was before I left for New York. I haven’t had my period since I got back from that trip. (I wouldn’t be complaining, though, if I was actually pregnant with Dan Radcliffe’s kid or something. LOLOLOLOL.)

And then there’s today. HELLO. I went to my parents’ room and told them the good news and my mom started crying and praising God. She then told me that this morning, she offered up her rosary prayer to God and said, “Because I know You’re wonderful, Lord God, I believe you will grant that Abby will get her period back if she’s truly deserving of it.” I started to tear up too. HELLO, CAN YOU SAY KILABOT? I got goose pimples all over. Hello Holy Spirit, isdatchoo?

But really. Gosh. God never fails to amaze me. I can’t even.

Hey yo, Big G! You’re too marvelous for words. Love You forever! ♥

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