The dreaded words no cancer survivor wants to hear rolled off the tongue of an ER doctor one late night before Christmas 2023. I was experiencing severe GI pain and visited the ER twice earlier in the week with the Diagnosis: Severe constipation without obstruction. However, on this fateful night, the diagnosis changed to complete bowel obstruction likely caused by a cancerous growth. Colon cancer. I shot up and bed with shock at his words. CANCER??????
However, I had no evidence of disease every three-month follow-up with my oncologist post successful Whipple surgery and completion of chemotherapy for pancreatic cancer (adenocarcinoma). I was given a clean bill of health a couple of weeks earlier. The September CT showed a normal sigmoid colon.
I was admitted to the hospital and met the surgeon who would be doing the emergency the following morning surgery to remove the mass along with as many lymph nodes as she could harvest for pathological testing. In the process, she had to create a stoma and I would require an ostomy bag for at least three months.
The hits kept coming.
The pain was excruciating.
My mind was reeling.
The surgery went well and I awoke with a very different body and a load of staples closing the large wound.
Grave disappointment followed as I was put in a room so tiny my husband couldn’t even stay the night with me. Deep grieving and sadness descended upon me. More distress followed when the nursing staff ignored my calls for hours post-op. Thankfully some longtime friends spent some of those hours visiting with me. By the evening shift a more attentive nurse cared for me. Even so, the night was endless without my husband with me.
The next couple of days, including Christmas, were a blur. I sunk into a hazy sadness while doing my best to learn how to use the ostomy and struggling to get up and walk. My husband came twice a day to sit with me and help me in any way he could. He’s my rock.
I left for home on December 26th armed with a giant bag of various ostomy supplies and education given by an amazing wound care nurse. She, along with the NP and surgeons, were bright lights in the situation.
The first several days home were filled with pain and challenges trying to navigate the new normal. Every part of my body hurt. Nothing tasted good. Depression settled in.
I knew I needed some safety net rules for myself. Depression is something rare to me. I knew I was playing with mental health fire.
Rule 1: When I get out of bed in the morning, I stay out of bed until bedtime.
Rule 2: I change out of my pajamas and get dressed.
Rule 3: I wash my face, brush my teeth, put on my usual makeup, and fix my hair.
The rules help me to function and look ahead. I’ve added a few more but that’s for a later post.
Finally, New Year’s Day arrived and we had our missed family Christmas dinner. It felt good to cook and prepare for the evening. It was good to have most of my family here. We opened our stockings and simply spent a few hours together.
Every day I feel stronger and more competent in managing my new digestion. That’s the good news.
Then yesterday everything changed again. The pathology results arrived. When I opened the document ADENOCARCINOMA screamed off the page. FOUR lymph nodes positive involvement. Clean margins surrounding the golf ball-sized tumor.
Though I don’t know exactly what the path will look like. I do know this means more rounds of chemotherapy. MORE of the nightmarish Folfirinox. Another port placement. More pain and suffering. All of this mere months after being declared no evidence of disease present. Mere months after completing chemotherapy. I will have more answers and a clearer direction mid-month when I see my oncologist.
Turbo cancer is a dastardly mofo. Adenocarcinoma is my sworn enemy.
As of last night, I’m getting back in the ring. I’m not going to be an easy target for this nightmare fuel.
I have grandbabies to meet. Memories to make with my family and friends. Patients to care for.
I again choose life.
I enter this fight intentionally.
