Excuse me?? I have what???

It started with an immediate CAT scan as they were awaiting blood test results.  The blood work showed something called an elevated CA-125.  They were awaiting CAT scan results.  No one would tell me anything until the gyn doc was told.  Not a blip, not anything.  My mind was in overdrive.  And it hurt to breathe...like literally.  I recall being admitted and wasn't going to be allowed to leave until the gyn doc made his rounds, which took FOREVER.  I waited, and waited.  I didn't want to stay overnight, just let me out of here.   But no, gyn doc had to see the chart and peruse the results before anything could be done.  Bastards!!  I had my mom and aunt on stand by to spring me out once I got the good(or bad) word.  At 11 pm, the good doc finally showed up.  He talked around the results almost as if avoiding saying what he thought.  I believe referral to another physician at another hospital was being put into play.  This part is all kind of fuzzy, but it's relayed to the best of my recollection.  I was finally sprung at almost midnight.  It still hurt to breathe or even move the upper part of my body.  Nothing was ever said about that.  All I know is I couldn't wait to get home.  And I thought I was going to be left alone.....bwahahahaha.  The first appointment was actually with radiology for a 'tapping' to get rid of the massive amount of fluid in my abdomen.  Much like a keg is tapped, so was I....some local anesthetic and a larger that life needle was inserted(with radiographic guidance) and I was tapped.  Filled about 4.5 quarts of a beer-looking substance.  Felt so much better afterwards, but the idea was tossed around for monthly tappings.  Oh joy.  Then Upon getting home after this, I was able to relax, sort of, so I decided to get onto the all wise Internet and look up an elevated CA-125.  That, I should not have done.  Turns out, CA-125 or cancer-antigen 125, is a tumor marker.....for ovarian cancer.  I recall not being told, at first, what my result was.  Then I recall, some one saying it was 1799.  Normal is 35 or less.  Not good.  Then I recall, quite quickly, getting into see that other doctor.  He was a gynecologic-oncologist.  The C word wasn't stated at this point...at all.  In retrospect, the local doc wouldn't say because I don't think he was sure.  I remember going down, not to an office, but to a hospital, which I thought was weird.  Like, why couldn't I got to his office.  I recall getting there on a Friday and was admitted(again, weird to me).  The time came and I got to meet the good doctor and a few of his fellow doctors.  They all looked at my results and recommended surgery ASAP to definitively see what they were dealing with.  I recall looking at my husband(who was trying to corral our then 2.5 year old son) saying but we wanted to have one more child.  They looked and stated that if we did, it would have to be IVF and it would have to work the very first try.  At this point, I looked at the doctor, absolving him from any repercussion in answering the question I was to ask him:  Do you think I have cancer?.  He shook his head yes and that if it were up to him, not to put off surgery.  My husband and I agreed.  It was scheduled for that Sunday.  Prep was to start the following day.  It was late in the evening before they were able to give me anything to eat.  It was a Friday during Lent.  I honestly think a nurse gave up her tuna sandwich so I could have something.  It almost felt like a Last Supper.  Things were never the same after that, nor will they ever be.