For a
while, my brother has been telling me that I need to go back and re-read the
posts from the early portion of my journey, and haven't been able to. I didn't
WANT to, quite frankly. I didn't want to go back, relive what I was feeling,
see how I was/was not dealing with everything. And yet, with the passing of my
one year cancer-versary yesterday, I feel like this would be a good time to go
back, revisit those days, and try to look at them from this new vantage point.
Maybe I'll gain some insight, learn something, remember things that I have
since forgotten (because let's face it, chemo brain doesn't exactly allow for
good memory-making!), and be able to talk about those days.
So, here is my very first blog post. I read through some of the other ones this morning as well, documenting the surgery. Wow. I, of course, started crying reading them. I am so so so glad that I decided to start this blog - it's truly like a document of my journey, but it has helped me to not only tell others what's been happening - it's also a place for me to revisit my journey and to think back on it.
I think, in all of my blogging over the past year, I can honestly say that I haven't been constantly honest with you all. I haven't lied, but I have hidden some of the darker moment, the more personal information, and the stuff that I didn't think fit the criteria of a cancer blogger with an attitude. So, it's my hope that, as time wears on and I read through more postings, I can give you some more insight into the fear, the terror, the uncertainty, and the gloomier side of fighting cancer. This isn't to frighten you, or to make you feel badly for me. In my current role (and yes, I feel like this is a role I am made to take on) as advocate, I need to make sure that other cancer patients realize that they aren't the only ones feeling tired, scared, terrified, sad, angry, frustrated, etc. And, while I won't be chronicling all of the thing that each cancer patient will go through (I was very lucky not to have to fight with my insurance, have radiation or an ostomy, etc.), I can relate on SOME levels, and that might help one person. If so, this was ALL worth it.
Reading my first several blogs (and, I had forgotten Sharon and my mom had updated this as well - thank you for that, again!), it was a pretty emotional time. I remember the day I was diagnosed like it was yesterday, and yet, reading through this blog posting was like watching someone else experience it. It was honestly very surreal - as if I was reading someone else's story and remembering it as my own at the same time.
On the day of my diagnosis, Levi and I went to the hospital and we were pretty upbeat. I wasn't impressed by the lingering effects of the bowel prep, but I knew that it would all be over soon. (Or so I thought). Waiting in the front lobby was hard - I had to keep jumping up to run to the bathroom every 3-4 minutes, so people were looking at me funny. I remember watching this really goofy game show, thinking of my grandmother who would have LOVED it, and just praying that they would call my name to get this thing started.
Going into the colonoscopy, they got me prepped, and as I said in my first blog post, the biggest fear I had was the IV. Silly now, but there you go. They got that in, and wheeled me into the room. Thank goodness Levi was there. He has been my rock through this whole thing, and it really started on this day. He and the nurses kept me laughing, and kept my mind off the equipment in the room.
After the procedure, I remember kind of coming out of the anesthesia, being groggy and wanting to go back to sleep. I remember understanding that we were in a hallway with several other people who were also recovering. Levi remembers listening to the sound of multiple people passing gas - when they perform this procedure, they insert air into your intestine to give them a better view of the colon. Well, they try to pull as much of it out as possible - the rest comes out as farts. Very classy!
I honestly don't remember what the nurse said when she came in. I don't remember her words exactly, and much as I have tried to recall her wording, I can't. But, the message was clear - 98% sure you have colon cancer. I then remember just sobbing on Levi's shoulder. I forgot about all of the other patients, and as I think back on it now, I wonder what they were thinking. Were their family members getting similar news? Or, were they grateful that they weren't us?
I don't remember much after that. I vaguely remember walking to the truck. I remember asking Levi to stop at Burger King on the way home, and then not being able to eat anything.
I think that, when you get news like this, your brain goes into a sort of survival mode. You can only process so much information at once, and this is pretty big news to absorb. I know at one point I was thinking, it's my mom's birthday. I can't call her today and tell her this. But, it happened.
Once home, again, there isn't much I remember, other than fielding calls from multiple doctor's offices, trying to coordinate appointments, information, details, names, numbers, prep diets, etc. Because it was the Friday before Memorial Day weekend, they were trying to get everything scheduled for the Tuesday and Wednesday after the holiday. At one point, I was literally on both my cell phone and my home phone, with the call waiting ringing in on both lines.
I just found out last weekend that my mom was out to dinner with my brothers for her birthday, and was on her way home when she realized that she hadn't heard from me. She had tried to call me a couple of times during the day, but when it got to 6 or 7 her time, she started to get worried and called Levi. Levi didn't want to tell her the news, but she persisted and got the information. I apologized to her for that - I didn't want her to learn that this way. But, as I was on the phone with people trying to coordinate my PET scan, my surgery, follow-up visits, diet restrictions, medical history, etc., I wasn't able to call her. Yet.
That evening, Levi and I took the kids to dinner, as planned. It wasn't the happy, joyous celebration that we had planned for. It was a mournful dinner, full of despair and fear. The server we had that night was one of these chatty waiters, trying to be your friend instead of your server. To this day, I can't go to this restaurant and be seated in his section. I ask to be moved. It's not him - it's me. (Well, it's sort of him - he has greasy hair and a used-car-salesman kind of demeanor...)
Saturday was hard. As I was getting ready to pick my mom up at the airport (she flew in on 5/24/08 and didn't leave to go home until about a week ago), I was in the shower and completely broke down. Sobbing. On the floor of my shower unit, crying hysterically. Did I need to plan my own funeral? Do I need to go pick out a casket? WHO'S GOING TO LOVE MY KIDS THE WAY I DO??? How do I tell my kids now how much I love them, so they can carry that with them throughout their lives? How is Levi going to handle this? How are my parents, brothers, family? Where do I want to be buried? It all came to a head, and I needed to cry. 30 minutes later, I finally got out of the shower, then realized that I hadn't washed at all. Back into the shower and on auto-pilot I went.
I picked my mom up at the airport, and she and I both sat there crying. We came home and made a game plan. Keep your spirits up, learn what you can, and keep moving forward.
One this I did on this long weekend was TOO MUCH research. If you have been diagnosed with colon cancer, or anything, DON'T GO TO THE INTERNET LOOKING FOR INFORMATION!!!! Not right away. It will terrify you. It will overwhelm you. And, it won't help your outlook. The first couple of places I went said in big, bold lettering "Colon Cancer is the #2 cancer killer in the country." Click - off the computer went, except to blog.
I was very lucky to have a cousin that is a PA in an oncology office, and we called her so many times in those first few months, just to run things by her, get another opinion, and to have a feel that we knew what we were doing. Kathy, your help during this time was invaluable, and I can't put into words how much you helped mom and I. Thank you!
I will go more into how I did during the surgery, PET scan, etc. in another post. Right now, the kids and I are heading to the mall to play on the big playground, to get my haircut, and to have a picnic lunch (yes, at the mall.....PB&J, chips, and juice bags....yum!). I am going to live today with all the fire I can, and enjoy it. And, I'm going to cherish what I have, because I know as well as anyone that in a moment's notice, it can all be taken away. Thank God mine wasn't.
<3
So, here is my very first blog post. I read through some of the other ones this morning as well, documenting the surgery. Wow. I, of course, started crying reading them. I am so so so glad that I decided to start this blog - it's truly like a document of my journey, but it has helped me to not only tell others what's been happening - it's also a place for me to revisit my journey and to think back on it.
I think, in all of my blogging over the past year, I can honestly say that I haven't been constantly honest with you all. I haven't lied, but I have hidden some of the darker moment, the more personal information, and the stuff that I didn't think fit the criteria of a cancer blogger with an attitude. So, it's my hope that, as time wears on and I read through more postings, I can give you some more insight into the fear, the terror, the uncertainty, and the gloomier side of fighting cancer. This isn't to frighten you, or to make you feel badly for me. In my current role (and yes, I feel like this is a role I am made to take on) as advocate, I need to make sure that other cancer patients realize that they aren't the only ones feeling tired, scared, terrified, sad, angry, frustrated, etc. And, while I won't be chronicling all of the thing that each cancer patient will go through (I was very lucky not to have to fight with my insurance, have radiation or an ostomy, etc.), I can relate on SOME levels, and that might help one person. If so, this was ALL worth it.
Reading my first several blogs (and, I had forgotten Sharon and my mom had updated this as well - thank you for that, again!), it was a pretty emotional time. I remember the day I was diagnosed like it was yesterday, and yet, reading through this blog posting was like watching someone else experience it. It was honestly very surreal - as if I was reading someone else's story and remembering it as my own at the same time.
On the day of my diagnosis, Levi and I went to the hospital and we were pretty upbeat. I wasn't impressed by the lingering effects of the bowel prep, but I knew that it would all be over soon. (Or so I thought). Waiting in the front lobby was hard - I had to keep jumping up to run to the bathroom every 3-4 minutes, so people were looking at me funny. I remember watching this really goofy game show, thinking of my grandmother who would have LOVED it, and just praying that they would call my name to get this thing started.
Going into the colonoscopy, they got me prepped, and as I said in my first blog post, the biggest fear I had was the IV. Silly now, but there you go. They got that in, and wheeled me into the room. Thank goodness Levi was there. He has been my rock through this whole thing, and it really started on this day. He and the nurses kept me laughing, and kept my mind off the equipment in the room.
After the procedure, I remember kind of coming out of the anesthesia, being groggy and wanting to go back to sleep. I remember understanding that we were in a hallway with several other people who were also recovering. Levi remembers listening to the sound of multiple people passing gas - when they perform this procedure, they insert air into your intestine to give them a better view of the colon. Well, they try to pull as much of it out as possible - the rest comes out as farts. Very classy!
I honestly don't remember what the nurse said when she came in. I don't remember her words exactly, and much as I have tried to recall her wording, I can't. But, the message was clear - 98% sure you have colon cancer. I then remember just sobbing on Levi's shoulder. I forgot about all of the other patients, and as I think back on it now, I wonder what they were thinking. Were their family members getting similar news? Or, were they grateful that they weren't us?
I don't remember much after that. I vaguely remember walking to the truck. I remember asking Levi to stop at Burger King on the way home, and then not being able to eat anything.
I think that, when you get news like this, your brain goes into a sort of survival mode. You can only process so much information at once, and this is pretty big news to absorb. I know at one point I was thinking, it's my mom's birthday. I can't call her today and tell her this. But, it happened.
Once home, again, there isn't much I remember, other than fielding calls from multiple doctor's offices, trying to coordinate appointments, information, details, names, numbers, prep diets, etc. Because it was the Friday before Memorial Day weekend, they were trying to get everything scheduled for the Tuesday and Wednesday after the holiday. At one point, I was literally on both my cell phone and my home phone, with the call waiting ringing in on both lines.
I just found out last weekend that my mom was out to dinner with my brothers for her birthday, and was on her way home when she realized that she hadn't heard from me. She had tried to call me a couple of times during the day, but when it got to 6 or 7 her time, she started to get worried and called Levi. Levi didn't want to tell her the news, but she persisted and got the information. I apologized to her for that - I didn't want her to learn that this way. But, as I was on the phone with people trying to coordinate my PET scan, my surgery, follow-up visits, diet restrictions, medical history, etc., I wasn't able to call her. Yet.
That evening, Levi and I took the kids to dinner, as planned. It wasn't the happy, joyous celebration that we had planned for. It was a mournful dinner, full of despair and fear. The server we had that night was one of these chatty waiters, trying to be your friend instead of your server. To this day, I can't go to this restaurant and be seated in his section. I ask to be moved. It's not him - it's me. (Well, it's sort of him - he has greasy hair and a used-car-salesman kind of demeanor...)
Saturday was hard. As I was getting ready to pick my mom up at the airport (she flew in on 5/24/08 and didn't leave to go home until about a week ago), I was in the shower and completely broke down. Sobbing. On the floor of my shower unit, crying hysterically. Did I need to plan my own funeral? Do I need to go pick out a casket? WHO'S GOING TO LOVE MY KIDS THE WAY I DO??? How do I tell my kids now how much I love them, so they can carry that with them throughout their lives? How is Levi going to handle this? How are my parents, brothers, family? Where do I want to be buried? It all came to a head, and I needed to cry. 30 minutes later, I finally got out of the shower, then realized that I hadn't washed at all. Back into the shower and on auto-pilot I went.
I picked my mom up at the airport, and she and I both sat there crying. We came home and made a game plan. Keep your spirits up, learn what you can, and keep moving forward.
One this I did on this long weekend was TOO MUCH research. If you have been diagnosed with colon cancer, or anything, DON'T GO TO THE INTERNET LOOKING FOR INFORMATION!!!! Not right away. It will terrify you. It will overwhelm you. And, it won't help your outlook. The first couple of places I went said in big, bold lettering "Colon Cancer is the #2 cancer killer in the country." Click - off the computer went, except to blog.
I was very lucky to have a cousin that is a PA in an oncology office, and we called her so many times in those first few months, just to run things by her, get another opinion, and to have a feel that we knew what we were doing. Kathy, your help during this time was invaluable, and I can't put into words how much you helped mom and I. Thank you!
I will go more into how I did during the surgery, PET scan, etc. in another post. Right now, the kids and I are heading to the mall to play on the big playground, to get my haircut, and to have a picnic lunch (yes, at the mall.....PB&J, chips, and juice bags....yum!). I am going to live today with all the fire I can, and enjoy it. And, I'm going to cherish what I have, because I know as well as anyone that in a moment's notice, it can all be taken away. Thank God mine wasn't.
<3
Comments:
Carol
Urban said...
It
was so hard for me to start reading the blogs of the other cancer
patients.
It was devastating to me to read how someone else was suffering. I wanted to be able to make it go away for all of you but I couldn't.
I cried for all of you. I prayed for each of you. And most of all I loved you and your families.
I remember all of the tests leading up to the colonoscopy and initial diagnosis of colon cancer. I remember exactly what the doctor and the nurse had to say to me and Phil. I remember the other patients getting very quiet while we cried.
It was devastating to me to read how someone else was suffering. I wanted to be able to make it go away for all of you but I couldn't.
I cried for all of you. I prayed for each of you. And most of all I loved you and your families.
I remember all of the tests leading up to the colonoscopy and initial diagnosis of colon cancer. I remember exactly what the doctor and the nurse had to say to me and Phil. I remember the other patients getting very quiet while we cried.
May
24, 2009 at 3:49 PM
Wow,
brings it all back. I was sort of calm after the colonoscopy, I think because
of the "happy drugs". I was awake during the whole procedure, so I
saw the tumor--but I hoped it wasn't what I thought it was. The doc only said
that it wasn't supposed to be there. Then I remember hearing the nurses talking
outside my recovery room looking for my husband. One nurse came in and started
saying something, and I just told her I hadn't talked to the doc yet, because I
didn't want to hear anything important from her--I wanted it all straight from
the doctor! Afterwards, when we were leaving (after several wonderful hugs from
a nurse!)I told Rich he had to stop being such a gloomy-gus!(poor guy!)It was
partly the drugs,and partly that I held out hope the tumor was benign.
I'm so glad I found your blog right away. And I agree about not reading too much info on the internet. It really scared me, and I stopped right away. Each person and each cancer is so different. You just have to wait and see how it affects you personally.Glad you are enjoying your weekend!
Tina
I'm so glad I found your blog right away. And I agree about not reading too much info on the internet. It really scared me, and I stopped right away. Each person and each cancer is so different. You just have to wait and see how it affects you personally.Glad you are enjoying your weekend!
Tina
May
24, 2009 at 6:22 PM
Later:
Have I
gone world-wide? Quite possibly. I happened to look at the map on my blog, and
I have people checking my blog from Tel Aviv, Israel, and Auckland, Australia.
Holy cow.
If you are actually checking out my blog (and not checking it to try to spam me), please comment. I would love to know WHY you came to look at my blog. Are you dealing with the same thing? Do you have experiences? Can you share them?
Holy cow. I am so blessed...
If you are actually checking out my blog (and not checking it to try to spam me), please comment. I would love to know WHY you came to look at my blog. Are you dealing with the same thing? Do you have experiences? Can you share them?
Holy cow. I am so blessed...
Comments:
Daria said...
Michelle,
Well I'm not from some exotic place but straight up from Canada.
I've been following your blog for some time now.
I follow numerous cancer blogs.
Not only do I offer support, I also get so much support ... it's unbelievable.
All the best to you,
Daria
Well I'm not from some exotic place but straight up from Canada.
I've been following your blog for some time now.
I follow numerous cancer blogs.
Not only do I offer support, I also get so much support ... it's unbelievable.
All the best to you,
Daria
May
24, 2009 at 3:16 PM
I'm
always here reading :) But I'm not very far away, lol. Thanks for sharing your
story :)
May
25, 2009 at 8:47 AM
Some
hits are random, some are repeat visitors. It is always fun to see where folks
come from. I am a 'regular' from the west coast of the US.
May
26, 2009 at 5:42 AM
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