Another Day, Another Probe

Off to the surgeon today, for a 'consult,' as they call it. Apprehensive, as always, about being probed. Everybody seems to want their own poke around in there. I think all that poking is simply angering the colon.
    Not quite sure what else to expect today. Will a date be set for surgery? Are there tests needed to confirm the location and present size of the tumor? What about bags? What's the likelihood of my needing a temporary ileostomy bag? Worse yet, what are the odds of needing a permanent bag? Pretty sure I don't want to go through life with a permanent bag.
    Lots of questions, lots of worries, and no end in sight.
    

No Sunlight Comin' Through My Window

Bowie and Prince are dead. Donald Trump may very well be our next president. I've got cancer and a small battery in my chest. The sun is choosing not to shine this Wednesday. 2016 is turning out to be quite the year. I'm going back to bed.

A Little Good News

This morning I visited my radiation oncologist. My fear was that he would want to probe the area of my tumor. (New drinking game: Every time you read some variant of the word 'probe' in one of my postings, take a drink. You'll be drunk in no time.) Dr. M. did indeed wish to make a 'gentle' digital exam, 'gentle' turning out to be a relative term.
    The good news: Dr. M searched with all due diligence for the tumor but could not feel it. This means that the radiation and the horrible chemotherapy was not in vain. It succeeded in shrinking the tumor. I still need to have surgery, but it's good to know that the therapies achieved their desired effect.
    

Briefly

Yesterday was a good day. The weather was cooler than it should have been this time of year, but that was fine. It was sunny, and the sight of sunlight always perks up my spirits. I went for a mid-day walk. The trees and bushes are still flowering, tulips are still in bloom, and the world looked lovely. It felt good to get moving. My body felt better when I got back home.
    Today is a sunny day as well. Which is good. It'll keep my mood from getting too dark. I have a follow-up appointment with my radiation oncologist, Dr. M. A very nice man, it will be good to see him, despite the fact that he might probe me, just to see how that tumor is doing. The thought of probing makes me apprehensive. Still, we're going out to lunch afterwards, my wife and I, so there is something positive to look forward to.

I'm Tired

Like a bad penny, like the prodigal son, like MacArthur in World War II...well, you get the idea: I have returned. My initial plan was to write regularly about having colorectal cancer and all the hilarious hi-jinks that go along with that, but it proved to be a more daunting task than I would have thought.
    To begin with, I'm pretty lazy in the best of times. Now that I feel less than stellar on occasion, I have a built in excuse to avoid doing anything constructive, like writing about having cancer. Another reason I've not been putting fingers to keyboard is that when I do feel like writing, I want it to be good, not something superficial and glib. Because that's the way I feel sometimes, as if I'm merely keeping up appearances, putting on a happy face because I think it's healthy to have a positive attitude. The truth is there are times when I'm not so positive, when I have dark moments. I don't want to ignore those dark moments. But I wasn't quite ready to write about them yet. So I took what turned out to be a month off from posting on this blog. (There was also an incident that put things on hold for a while, but that's a story for another day.)
    It's time to get writing again, so I will be posting brilliant thoughts and observations on a regular basis, a few times a week. Some will be short posts, like today's. This will bring immediacy to the writing, to help give an impression of what things are like on a daily, or almost daily, basis. Other posts will be longer, hopefully thoughtful pieces about what's going on in my head, not just my body.
    But enough about me, here's some more about me: Today's post is called "I'm Tired," and it's about, well, being tired, in the sense that some aspects of having cancer can be a little boring and wear one's patience thin.
I'M TIRED
I’m tired of thinking about my bowels, I’m tired of talking about my bowels, I’m tired of hearing my stomach rumble, I’m tired of having to go to the bathroom all the time. In short, I’m tired.
    Radiation has been over for almost a month, chemotherapy for even longer. Yet their side effects continue to linger. The main issue for me now is bathroom usage. Whether it’s number one or number two, when I have to go, I have to go. And I mean now. Right now.
    I have to say, I’m tired of having bowel movements. I’m particularly tired of having loose movements. I’m tired of having to pee all the time, too, although that’s not really so bad. What’s bad is feeling like I may have released just a slight bit of urine before I’m able to make it to the bathroom, when in reality I haven’t. It’s just an odd feeling, one not accompanied by actual production. While it’s mildly annoying, I suppose it’s much better than actually releasing any amount of urine without noticing it all.
    Never in a million years would I have thought I’d have to be so concerned about my bathroom habits, but there you go. Cancer changes everything. It really is a pain in the ass.

In the Beginning, There Was the Probe

My life has been about skating. Not in the literal sense of strapping a pair of sharp blades to my feet and gliding around an ice rink, or lacing up a pair of shoes with wheels. The skating I’ve done has been figurative. I’ve skated through life pretty much unscathed by any horrible realities that some people must face. There has never been a day of hunger or homelessness, no marching into battle. Compared to many other people, including members of my own family who faced deprivations in their younger lives, I have had an easy life.
    Having an easy life meant that I have attempted to avoid stress as much as possible. Not always an easy task, but for the most part it worked out. Still, there comes a time when everyone must become an adult and do what needs to be done, no matter how repellent it may be. I’m not talking about paying taxes or voting Republican.
    I’m talking about getting a colonoscopy.
    No one wants to get a colonoscopy, and when I say no one, I specifically mean me. I had, and still have, zero desire to be probed in that particular region. But my age, fifty-one, and family history, as well as the sight of blood where it did not belong, indicated that it was past time to get my colon checked.
    Can’t have a colonoscopy without a gastroenterologist, so I set out to find one. And how does anybody find anything these days? On the Internet. First I needed to find doctors who accepted my insurance. Okay, done. I pulled up a list of gastro doctors affiliated with the hospital in my area that I wanted to use. The list had photos. None of the physicians looked like they might attempt to harvest my organs and sell them on the black market. They all looked like nice people. Their educational backgrounds were shown, and no diplomas appeared to be gained from the back of a comic book. They all had work experience that showed mine would not be their first go round with a colon. So how do I choose?
    Ah, some doctors actually had videos! How about this modern world we live in? I’m not talking MTV-type videos, but rather something that had the doctors discussing themselves and their practice. Again, they all seemed like good people. Now, here’s the thing. I can be a tad argumentative at times. I didn’t want to get into any difficulties with the person who would be sticking a tube up my keester. That much I knew. But there was one doctor who had a video in which she seemed very approachable. And she was a woman. I tend to argue less with women, despite what my wife may tell you. This is because I believe “man smart, woman smarter”. (Now, I’m not saying I lose all skepticism around women, but at the very least I tend to express myself a little more pleasantly than with a man.) So I chose Dr. Ami B. She presented herself in her video as an intelligent, friendly and compassionate person. Dr. B. turned out to be that way in real life as well.
    After meeting Dr. B. the date for the colonoscopy was set. It was mid-January, cold but not as arctic as it sometimes gets in a Chicago winter. My wife Jayne and I arrived at the hospital in the late morning. I was escorted to a waiting area with a bed and a TV hanging on a swinging arm from the ceiling. I don’t really watch all that much TV, and that certainly wasn’t why I was there, but every time I enter a room I look for a TV. Yes, there’s something wrong with me.
    I changed into a lovely hospital gown and was given those hospital sock thingys to wear, the ones that are sticky on the bottom so people like me don’t slide and fall and create more havoc than is necessary. The socks were warm, which was a nice touch. Warm blankets, another nice touch, were put over me as I lay in bed. I was warm and comfy. One nurse asked me difficult questions like my name and if I knew why I was in the hospital while another nurse attempted to find a vein in which to insert the IV. Apparently my veins were being mischievous and were avoiding the needle. Eventually,  one was found. All this did not hurt me. It’s the idea of someone rooting around under my flesh with a sharp instrument that gives me the creeps. Needless to say I did not watch the nurse do the rooting.
    After some waiting I was wheeled into the operating room. At least I guess it was an operating room, even though I wasn’t really having an operation. A procedure room? Whatever, it wasn’t a broom closet. It was clean and sterile looking. The anesthesiologist arrived. He told me I would start to feel sleepy soon. I was also having an endoscopy, a procedure where they put a tube down your throat to look at the upper workings of your GI system. A nurse put a device over my mouth to keep me from biting down on the tube. The anesthesiologist asked me if I felt sleepy. I said no. I also thought that I might make some clever remark as to how this thing in my mouth made me feel like Hannibal Lecter being transported in “Silence of the Lambs”. It was too late. I was asleep.
    The next thing I knew I was waking up in the recovery area. I was groggy. I was offered water. I said yes. The nurse then mentioned some light snacks I could have and when cookies were mentioned I immediately said yes. The nurse brought me some Lorna Doone’s. I ripped open the package like a starving raccoon. As I was gobbling the cookies in my groggy state Dr. B. came by.
    She said that she removed some polyps but there was also a hard mass that could be cancerous. Wait, what? Did she say cancer?