I had so many plans and goals for this year. This year was supposed to be magical. It’s my decade year. I love decade years. A whole new path in life set out before you. Each one gets better than the last.
I graduated college ten years ago this year.
I got my first overseas job ten years ago this year.
It’s the year I will finish my book.
The year I decided to blog about my writing journey, and man, was I off to a brilliant start.
So here I minded my own business, making big plans, my birthday in January wasn’t what I’d like cause of COVID but I don’t complain. It was still amazing. My friends showing up to Paella and singing ‘Happy Birthday’ in my driveway was one of the best birthday memories.
Seriously. Who needs just a cake when you have Paella AND cake??
My book got to the 80% mark. “I’ll finish my Valentine’s Day.” I thought. For sure.
Roses, everything roses.
February 4th, a colonoscopy was scheduled. This was for some digestive issues I had during the latter half of 2019. I thought it was from traveling. It lingered for six-ish months. My doctor requested me to see a GI. We all thought maybe foodstuff. The GI doctor on the same page did a bunch of tests for food intolerances /allergies/ sensitivities. Wheat came up. To be sure, she wished to schedule a colonoscopy for the beginning of 2020. Then COVID happened. The appointment was pushed out eleven months. That is how little concern they had for it. I cut out wheat, and the problem pretty much went away.
When February came around, my dr asked if I still wanted the appointment. The issue was gone. I have no family history of colon issues. Like none. I’m ten years away from actually needing it. I almost canceled.
Almost.
The thing about having no insurance and super crappy insurance for decades, when you get excellent insurance, it feels like a gift. Like you won a prize. And why the hell would you turn down a prize? It’s weird to think of a colonoscopy as a present, but anything medical related I’m just like, “YES, PREVENTIVE CARE PLEASE!” I've been on the other end. I've needed medical stuff and not had insurance.
So I go through a 40 hour fast and colon cleaning and thinking, “Thank God I only have to do this once every ten years.” Colonoscopy are not that bad, but colon cleansings are terrible, but guys seriously do it!
I get all drugged up; I get on the table. I’m out maybe five minutes, but I am snapped out of my Twilight sleep. It’s not the procedure. As a daughter of a nurse, I’ve never had a fear of Doctors or Dentists. It was the hushed whispers.
It was a cutting question that stabbed right into my brain, even in a drugged sleep.
“Where is her husband? Is he still here?”
“He left for his car when we took her back.”
“Go call him now, see how fast he can get back here.”
“Yes, Mama’ “
My eyes drift to the clock. It’s been seven minutes. They said an hour for the colonoscopy and another hour in recovery.
“Can you get me the ink? I’m gonna leave a tattoo.”
“Biopsy?”
“I already got it. I can’t go any further.”
When I was young, my mother uses to ‘force’ me to study with her. I recall helping her with flashcards of big words I didn’t understand. I remember the ‘color’ books of blood and bone. And my whole adult, my mom, has talked to me about her job like I was a colleague. My knowledge of medical happenings is above average. This conversation wasn’t out of my knowledge scope.
My eyes pricked with heavy hot tears.
-Tumor-
The word hummed in my head.
-Tumor, tumor-
My husband was already in the recovery area when I was wheeled in.
The doctor put her hand on my knee.
“I’m so very glad you came in today.”
F***
“How are you feeling. Are you awake?”
“Yea, I’m awake.” I manage.
“It’s so good you came in today.” She’s patting my knee. Doctors are a lot like teachers. They get a little physical with bad news.
“There is a tumor in your descending colon.”
I can do hard things when I need to. I can put on a brave face. I can shove all my students in a small closet while I lie in front of the door, putting my body between them and me during a shooter event on my campus (true story for another time )
But this was a hard slap, and the tears just started pouring out ugly. No fight or flight. No wonder women, just ugly crying. I eat healthy; I exercise daily, I am good to my body.
I ugly cry for a few minutes, but as soon as the doctor talks ‘cancer’, a switch goes off. My mother has leukemia. She has been fighting her battle for four years. I’ve been her caregiver and advocate. And that part of me just turns on, so naturally, I’m surprised."
“We need to do some blood test, but we can wait.”
“Do them now.” My teacher’s voice is on. My caregiver’s voice is on.
“Ok,” The doctor’s voice is softer.
“We need to schedule some CTs.”
“Can we do them now?”
“If you’re feeling up to it since you here absolutely. And might I say how well you are taking this.”
“How long will the biopsy take?”
“A week likely.”
At this point, I am channeling all my energy into “this is benign, and you are ok.”
I think it all week.
I think it when my blood test all come back normal. And the doctor tells me how it might be a huge polyp.
And again when my CT came back clean except that tumor.
I channel it when the doctor tells me the biopsy came back negative for cancer, but the cells are ‘high grade.’
“Sometimes we see cancer inside tumors like this. But it’s looking really, really early. Precancer maybe? Stage one? We won’t know until we get it out.”
“Let’s get it out!” I sing, I dance. I praise God in heaven. What a close call.
I spend the next three weeks in this grateful bliss. Feeling blessed and lucky, and thanking God every night before bed. Just a close call.
The surgery was a little nerve-racking. They are removing a foot of my colon, and for the first time in my life, anything has been removed from my body.
The day after my surgery, the surgeon comes to see me.
“Good news! It didn’t penetrate the colon wall. It’s very unlikely to have spread. All in all, it seems like your one lucky woman.”
“I call everyone with the good news.”
The biopsy isn’t back yet, but I push that out of my mind. I focus on recovery. I’m in the hospital for six days. It’s a slow recovery. The surgery took eight hours instead of six, and I have a sensitivity to anesthesia and they ended up double dosing me.
On day five, the surgeon comes back in to visit me. He looks me over and says I’m recovering well.
“The biopsy came back.”
My head already decided that it didn’t matter. It didn’t penetrate the colon wall. It didn’t spread. It didn’t matter; the cancer was gone now.
I remember smiling. Grinning like an idiot
“They didn’t find much cancer in the tumor.”
“That’s good, right?” The excitement in my voice is tangible. It catches him off guard. There is a horrible look on his face for a moment, and my brain just can’t understand why.
Everything pointed towards early and good. Everything. So why was he looking at me like bad news was coming? Like he was sorry to have to say it?
“They found cancer cells in ten of the twenty-eight lymph nodes biopsied.”
For those of you don't speak cancer, cancer in your lymph system is an auto stage three. Cancer in 1/3 of the lymph nods they biopsied is advanced. Like "Lets get the hell out of the colon soon." Luckily, they hadn't moved the party yet, but they had all their bags packed.
My brain literally can’t wrap around this.
“Oh,” It was all I could say. It was all I could think. My brain already knew what it meant. Nothing else matter. Not the perfectly normal blood work or clean except one tumor CT or didn’t penetrate the colon wall.
None of it mattered.
Stage three.
There were important questions to ask now. Important things to know. The air felt thick and heavy. I saw spots on the wall. Could I still breathe?
Breath, I tell myself. I don’t cry. I can’t cry. Crying will hurt.
Calling to tell my family that "Surprise its not early cancer." Was not a 'yolk on my face moment." I wasn't embarrassed to be wrong, but man those calls were hard.
You ever had to call your mom who has cancer to tell her you also have cancer?
Telling my parents and my husband and all my loved ones? That was the scariest conversation I've had in my life.
I'm pretty much the type of person that bends themselves into knots making sure other people are ok.
To quote my forever fictional boyfriend "I can bear pain myself, but I couldnt'a bear yours. That would take more strength then I have."
I have no idea how to end this forever post now. I'll just leave it at that.
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