Michelle Velez

Lately I have been staying up late at night getting sucked down the cancer wormhole. It’s something that happened a lot when I was in treatment, but not so much in the months after. I guess I was just focused on recovery and healing — which, for me, came with more ease because recurrence for my type of cancer is rare.

Lately, however, I’ve noticed I’ve been worried that one day, I’ll be diagnosed with a different type of cancer. Or even worse, my kids will get it. I was kind of riding off the “it already happened, so my chances are low” wave, but honestly, I just don’t think that's the case. Cancer is so widespread these days, and stories of people being diagnosed more than once are not that uncommon, especially with the amount of cancer connections I have made online.

My husband always likes to point out that because of social media, we hear about so much more. That’s true, but some days it's still hard for me. People reach out to me for support and I’m always so glad they do, but every once in a while, I find myself feeling very anxious. I worry that cancer will come back and ruin my happiness.

I sometimes feel like, it's too good to be true that I could beat cancer, crawl my way out of the darkness and live happily ever after. Sometimes late at night, when everyone is sleeping and I’m completely alone, I start to wonder when something bad will happen again. When something hurts, or my recent tingling of the left arm starts up, my mind instantly goes to cancer.

What if it’s a tumor on my spine? What if I find a lump in my breast? What if my son’s headaches turns out to be cancer? What if one of my dogs gets cancer?

Having this level of anxiety isn’t anything unusual for me, I used to worry like this before cancer, but somehow it’s different now. Perhaps it's because I have actually been there, or maybe I have some level of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I relive the horrible day I got diagnosed, ALL the time.

A friend of mine who also survived choriocarcinoma has told me before that she has to “protect her peace” by eliminating exposure to daily triggers, like other people’s cancer battles. I really thought about that and realized maybe I need to do the same. When I think that way it makes me feel guilty, because it feels selfish, but how much can one person take? I just want to find some peace where cancer isn’t constantly stealing from me. I want to be like people I see around me, just living in ignorant bliss making daily choices without constantly worrying that it might tip the scale in cancer’s favor.

It reminds me of that movie “Final Destination” where cheating death is impossible. That’s what living life after cancer feels like: a constant cat and mouse game where you are trying to outsmart death.

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I frequently relive the day I was diagnosed with cancer and realized that I may need to limit my exposure to other people’s cancer battles. 

I Need to Get Out of the Cancer Wormhole

I wish every woman out there knew that there is a type of cancer that can result from a pregnancy. To me it's preposterous that this can affect every single human with a uterus, yet it’s virtually unknown to the world.

When I was diagnosed with a molar pregnancy, I had no idea what was happening. I was so confused, but all I remember is hearing “chance of cancer” followed by “but that risk is less than 1%, so don’t worry.”

In just a few short weeks I went from elated about discovering I was pregnant, to heartbroken when we realized I was miscarrying, to dazed and confused when it was diagnosed as a molar pregnancy. It was completely foreign to me. I had never heard of it and even after my doctor tried to explain what was happening, I still didn’t understand.

Up until that moment in the doctor’s office when he told me what was happening, all I could focus on was getting better so we could try again. Getting pregnant again was the only thing that got me through those first few weeks, but the molar pregnancy changed that in an instant. After the molar was discovered, my doctor informed me that I would not be able to try to get pregnant for a year. A WHOLE year. I was shattered. Looking back now I think, if only that was my biggest problem.

Aug. 3, 2019, was a Saturday. I was home alone with the kids that day because my husband was at work. I took an at home pregnancy test, which turned up positive. I was so excited and had to wait all day for my husband to get home so I could tell him.

We had recently decided to start trying for our third and final baby and I was surprised at how fast it happened. The next weekend was my sister’s wedding, so we decided not to tell anyone until after her big day. I also wanted to wait until the first ultrasound just to be sure. I'm so glad we waited.

At the six-week ultrasound, we discovered that the gestational sac was empty. My doctor called it a blighted ovum, a typical miscarriage where fertilization happens but the baby doesn’t form. I asked my doctor if I could allow the miscarriage to happen naturally without surgical intervention and he said yes.

At that time there was no indication anything else was wrong. He told me to expect a large bleed and to be prepared as it could happen at any time. I went home that day, crawled into bed and cried myself to sleep.

In the following days and weeks, I went back to work and waited for my miscarriage to happen — but it never did. I started having food aversions, severe morning sickness and I was so tired I could barely function. It was almost like I was getting more pregnant, but I was also bleeding, and it was becoming more persistent. How could I be pregnant and bleeding at the same time? What was happening? I was so confused and SO sick.

Then I started passing blood clots, and they grew bigger by the day. The spotting turned to gushing, and the sickness was so severe I couldn’t even stand up. When I went back to my doctor, he took one look at my ultrasound and knew right away. I saw it too, but I had no idea what it was. My ultrasound looked like my uterus was filled with little clusters of grapes. Little beady circles all bunched up together. He looked at me and said, “This is a molar pregnancy.”

A molar pregnancy is a rare occurrence when the placental tissue grows out of control and invades the uterus. There are two types of molar pregnancies: complete molar pregnancy and partial molar pregnancy. In a complete molar pregnancy, the placental tissue is abnormal and swollen and appears to form fluid-filled cysts. There's also no formation of fetal tissue. In a partial molar pregnancy, there may be normal placental tissue along with abnormally forming placental tissue. There may also be a fetus, but the fetus is not able to survive, and is usually miscarried early in the pregnancy.

A molar pregnancy seems normal at first, but when symptoms develop, they include severe nausea, vomiting, fatigue and vaginal bleeding. This is caused by massive amounts of the pregnancy hormone HCG that begins to skyrocket to astronomical figures. The hormone is produced because the tissue that is reproducing is from the placenta, so the body acts like it’s pregnant. In my case no fetus ever developed, but my HCG levels were extraordinarily high.

In all cases, the tissue must be evacuated from the uterus — which is always done first with a dilation and curettage (D and C) procedure. If that does not get it all, then a mild form of chemotherapy is needed to kill the tissue.

In some very rare cases, the tissue turns cancerous and can spread to other organs within the body. That is what happened to me. By the time I reached the 10-week mark, I was diagnosed with stage 4 choriocarcinoma, and it had spread outside my uterus and to my liver, lungs and spleen.

A day after receiving my diagnosis, I was in surgery having a port placed into my chest, and three days later, I was starting what would be 16 weeks of a hard-core chemo regimen. I was very lucky, we caught it fast, and my treatment worked. In the end I was weak, lost all my hair and would never be the same again, but I survived. Unfortunately, I had never heard of this condition and was blindsided by it.

I want to make people aware that this is something that can happen, without warning, and I want to arm women with the knowledge, so they know what to look for. Extraordinarily high HCG, severe pregnancy symptoms and heavy vaginal bleeding are all early signs of a molar pregnancy and should be discussed with a clinician immediately. Once the molar pregnancy begins to grow, it must be treated. It will not resolve on its own.

It is also very important that women understand why it is so pertinent that they do not get pregnant for at least six months to one year after a molar pregnancy. Pregnancy causes the same symptoms as a molar pregnancy, so it will be impossible to determine what is causing the HCG to rise. Molar pregnancies can recur if the tissue is not entirely removed, so women need to have regular blood tests to monitor their HCG.

If a woman gets pregnant too soon after a molar, the pregnancy can mask any signs of recurrence of the invasive tissue, which is tracked by HCG in the blood. I'd urge women who went through a molar pregnancy to take all precautions to avoid pregnancy until your doctors tell you it is safe.

Molar pregnancies are considered rare, with about one in every 1,000 pregnancies affected, according to the Mayo Clinic. In my opinion, that statistic is rare, but not that rare. If you think of the world’s entire population, one in every 1,000 women is a lot of people. Why don’t more people know about this?

That’s the part that frustrates me the most. Social media has helped bring more awareness, and connect women who have been affected, but we could still do so much more to educate people. That is why I share my story.

For more information on molar pregnancies and the cancer associated with them, a simple Google search is a good start. You can also search “molarpregnancy” hashtags on social media to connect with other women who have survived or are currently going through it. There are also great support groups on Facebook that have been very helpful. “My Molar Pregnancy Support Group” and “Choriocarcinoma & Molar Pregnancy & all GTD Support'' are two excellent resources that I recommend every person to join as soon as they are diagnosed.

This form of cancer is treatable, and in most cases affected women can go on to have perfectly healthy pregnancies, but time is of the essence. It must be caught and treated before it spreads too far. Early prenatal care is the best defense. See your doctors early and regularly, and if something seems off, trust your gut and have it checked out.

I was told that I would miscarry my pregnancy, but continued to feel more pregnant, leading to my molar pregnancy diagnosis — a condition I’ve never heard of before. 

I Was Blindsided by a Cancer I’ve Never Heard Of  

As I continue to navigate these unknown waters (to me) of life after cancer, I find the chronic exhaustion to be the hardest part. Every single day I have to lie down for a nap — and many times I fall asleep without even meaning to because I am ALWAYS tired.

Chemo fatigue is a part of cancer we never really hear about, but it has affected me more than any part of this cancer journey. If you would have asked me before I was diagnosed how a required daily nap sounded, I would have signed my life away in a second. Now, I’d give anything to be my energetic pre-cancer self again. ANYTHING.

This exhaustion is not like typical tiredness. It’s a bone-deep fatigue that literally stops me in my tracks. No matter how much sleep I get the night before, at some point in my day I MUST lie down to sleep. I have tried so many times to make it through — but without fail — I always succumb to the exhaustion. Right around one year after chemo, I finally went to see a doctor. We had labs done to check my blood — thinking maybe I was still anemic — but everything came back perfect.

My doctor officially diagnosed me with post chemo fatigue but could not tell me exactly why it happens or how long it lasts. For some people it never goes away.

This confirmation from the doctor was really helpful for my mental health because I was really struggling with the whole thing. I had started to feel really guilty for sleeping so much. I felt like nobody truly believed me that chemo could still be affecting me so long after it had left my body. I was worried my family would think I was making it up. I felt lazy.

I still have a hard time because it has such a profound effect on my life. I can’t plan anything without planning time to rest too. I literally have to schedule my whole day around WHEN I can lie down to nap. This is not who I was before. Even though I’ve been exercising regularly since finishing chemo, my body is still weak. It still hurts to do things that I could SO easily do before — like running. My own body feels foreign to me and I’m not sure I will ever get back to where I was before cancer.

It's just one of the many parts of life after cancer that people don’t understand. It’s beyond frustrating and completely uncontrollable. I just want those of you who may be going through this to know you are NOT imagining it — the fatigue is real.

I don’t have any life-changing advice on this except to say you are not alone. For me, knowing I wasn’t alone was the only thing that could bring me comfort most days. Now I just try to accept my new reality and take my rest when I need it.

If I can get even just one thing done on my to-do list, I feel accomplished. It’s hard to do especially as a busy mom always on the go — but this is my reality now and I am slowly learning to accept it. If you are also feeling this way, I hope it helps to hear you are not imagining it.

The chemo is still affecting you and it’s OK. Listen to your body and let it rest. The fact that you made it through in the first place is truly a miracle. Don’t lose sight of that!

I can’t plan anything without planning time to rest. I literally have to schedule my whole day around when I can lie down to nap.

Post-Chemo Fatigue is Nothing Like Your Typical Tiredness, It Can Stop You Dead in Your Tracks

I would never wish cancer upon anyone, not even my worst enemy. As far as I know, I don’t have a worst enemy, but if I did, I wouldn’t want them to experience it. However, I do wish everyone could see life the way I do after cancer. Although it has been hard in many ways, one thing that has improved is my outlook on everything.

: all the small things, all the time. I never really realized how much of me it consumed until it didn’t matter anymore. When I was lying in that hospital bed hooked up to machines refilling my body with blood, I only cared about two things: my loved ones and how much time I had left with them. I didn’t care about how I looked in a bathing suit, or who was talking badly about me. I didn’t care about the unfairness happening at my job, or the reason I had a panic attack that week. I didn’t worry about the people no longer in my life or for what reason they were gone, I only worried about family and time. That was it.

Since recovering, life hasn’t been easy, but one thing is for sure: I don’t sweat the small stuff anymore. When my kids make a huge mess or break something, I don’t freak out about it. If something I really want doesn’t work out for me, I shrug it off. I still have stressful moments, but they’re much more valid and meaningful. I’m just truly thankful to wake up and see another day, because for a time there, I wasn’t sure how many more times I’d get to do that. I wasn’t sure if my kids would have their mom, or if my husband would still have a wife. I wasn’t sure if I’d get to take my kids to the beach for the first time or be there when they graduate pre-school. I wasn’t sure how much time I had left, and it really scared me.

When I recovered, I made sure to stop waiting for the perfect time to live. I left my career as a full-time news anchor to stay home with my kids. I took my kids to see the ocean, we bought a travel trailer and I renovated it. We realized life is happening all around us and it was time to be present.

I just wish others could see life through this lens. I wish they could understand how much worse things can really be. I wish they could see that 95

 of the time, all those things they worry and stress over won’t even happen. Life really is too short, so don’t wait any longer. That’s the one and only gift I got from cancer.

When I was diagnosed with cancer, I thought of only two things: my loved ones and how much time I had left with them.

Michelle Velez

I Need to Get Out of the Cancer Wormhole

I Was Blindsided by a Cancer I’ve Never Heard Of

Post-Chemo Fatigue is Nothing Like Your Typical Tiredness, It Can Stop You Dead in Your Tracks

My Only Gift From Cancer: a New View on Life

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