In case our bloodshot eyes don’t say it enough, today was another emotional day at the Mayo Clinic…but in an oddly “good” way. 

See that big ol’ needle?  That, my friends, is the shot that I have had injected into my hip joint every 1-3 months since my diagnosis two years ago (and yes, it feels as bad as you think it does).  

Since my cancer was both estrogen and progesterone positive, I had no choice but to have my ovaries shut down so that they stopped producing estrogen (because it’s like Miracle Grow for the type of breast cancer I had). However, I wasn’t old enough for menopause yet, so I had to endure this awful shot into my hip joint regularly to shut them down until I either went through menopause naturally or had them removed. Well, my next surgery is in a little over three weeks, and one part of the surgery is the removal of my ovaries/fallopian tubes. 

Yes, I wish I didn’t have to do this surgery. If there was something else I could choose, I would in a heartbeat. Unfortunately though, there just isn’t. The ovaries have to go. 

Still trying to focus on the positive, and for today, it is at least being able to celebrate that today was my LAST painful shot since my surgery is now within a month, and my mom was there to comfort me through it as she always has been. 

Another “fun fact” is that this shot is always given to me in the same section of the hospital where I had to do chemotherapy, and—to this day—I have an almost visceral response to being there. It’s really hard for me (Weird, I know. Welcome to medical PTSD).  

Today in the waiting area to go in was no different. My nerves were all over the place, and I wanted nothing more than to get out of there.  Apparently, an elderly gentleman sitting across from us saw me sitting with my head in my hands as mom was rubbing my back (as she always does until they would call my name to go back).  He stood up, walked over to us, and—without saying a word—placed one of these beautiful little wooden crosses into each of our hands before returning to his chair and sitting down.  I couldn’t even say anything.  I just got up, walked over to him, and gave him a big, teary hug.  At that point, another older woman walked over to me and asked if she could give me a hug. Of course I said yes, and she gave me the biggest hug as she whispered, “I’ve been through what you are going through right now, and I know how hard it is. I promise that it will get easier, so keep fighting.”

At that point, I hear my name being called, and so I wiped my eyes and walked back, through the chemo wing, one final time to get my injection. 

So, tonight, as I’m lying in bed and unable to put much weight in that leg for the next 24 hours without pain, I’m celebrating that it was my FINAL SHOT that I’ll ever have to do as well as the perfect way that God placed two beautiful, loving strangers in my path to give me that extra peace and love that I needed to go through it just one more time. ❤️