Giving Birth, Again

Today is doctor appointment number two for the week, this time with my Gynecologist. Since Dr. N. took my ovaries during the colon resection surgery, the hot flashes are coming fast and furious, especially on nights when I partake in a glass or two of wine. I am certain there is nothing my Gyn Doc can do since I am entering chemo territory, but I hope I am wrong.

I sit in the waiting room amongst the mommies-to-be. I liken my current physical state to pregnancy. From the time of conception, the day of my first gastroenterologist appointment February 22, till the time I’m done with chemo around November 4, will be a gestation period of approximately 9 months. At the end of those 9 months it will be special delivery time, a new and improved, cancer free ME will storm this world, kicking and screaming!

The nurse calls my name and ushers me to the exam room. I love my girly parts doc. She has an awesome bedside manner. She reviews my chart and shakes her head. “What prompted you to get a colonoscopy early?” she asks.

“My primary care doc wanted me to because of my family history.” I reply.

She asks about family history and then starts to go down the road of genetic testing. Ironically, I got a call from Carolyn, Dr. N.’s nurse, while I was in the waiting room. She said my genetic test results came back negative! At last, good news! Although that won’t give my kids a free pass when it comes to their risk for colon cancer and getting their colonoscopys at age 38, but at least we don’t need to worry about a gene that will be spread through our lineage for generations to come.

My doc is impressed that Dr. N.’s office did genetic testing. She concurs with his decision to remove my ovaries, citing that there is an increased risk for ovarian cancer once you have colon cancer. She takes a look at the incisions in my stomach and says that Dr. N. did a really good job. I was taken aback.

 “Really?” I said,  “I look at it and think YUCK!” 

She said, “No, you’re still swollen but the size and shape of the incisions look great.”  As strange as it sounds, her approval made me feel good as if she congratulating me for picking such a skilled surgeon.

She gives me with a couple prescription ideas that may help with hot flashes. I opt to wait and see if they change during chemo first. Doc lets me know I can call anytime and she’ll get me whatever I need.

I leave the doctor's office and looking forward to the day I give birth to my cancer free self!

Lessons in Chemotherapy

Today is a big day for two reasons. First reason, it’s the day I go back to work after being off for four weeks. Second reason, it’s is my ‘chemo teach’, a scary yet necessary part of my cancer journey.

I arrive to work at 8 am I feel strange, like I really don’t belong. I slink quietly down the hall to my office. But as soon as I open the door, it was like I just returned after a long weekend. The familiarity and the pile of git ‘er done assignments gave levity to my step. I longed to feel preoccupied and now my wish is granted.

The second part of the day is getting schooled on how my chemo will go down. Greg and I meet with Barbara, a nurse that looks to be in her mid 50’s or so. She gives it to me straight. She introduces me to my new friends, Eloxatin, Fluorouracil (otherwise know as 5-FU, for real! I'm making that up) and their trusty side kick, Leucovarin. She rattles off a laundry list of nasty-ass side effects; numbness in my hands & feet, thinning hair, mouth sores, constipation, diarrhea, fatigue, loss of appetite, sensitivity to light, taste changes, discoloration along vein where the medication is given, low blood counts, and nail discoloration or loss. The strangest side effect that she says is common in almost all patients, the inability to drink or touch anything cold. If you drink cold liquids it feels like you’re swallowing razor blades, if you touch anything cold, it feels like you’re being stabbed with knives. She suggests wearing gloves if I need to retrieve anything from the freezer or fridge. I think to myself, what the hell do people up north do if they need treatment in the winter? The weirdness of it all starts to get to me and I fight back tears.

Barbara continues on outlining procedures, what to bring to chemo, what blood tests will be done at the beginning of each round. She tells me I need to avoid buffets and salad bars, crowded places, small children, the sun if possible or wear a good SPF. No showers on chemo days unless I have a handheld shower nozzle so I can avoid getting the port wet. The list goes on and on and my brain begins to tune her out as I start making a mental list off all the things I can’t do this year.

Then she opens the floor for questions. Greg and I look at each other dumbfounded. She can sense we’re clueless so she tries to pull questions out of us. “Who cooks in your house?”

Again, we both look like dumb and dumber, unsure how to answer.

Finally I say, “I use to cook more, but not much lately. And Greg is really good at grilling.” 

Barbara looks at Greg and says “OK, you’re going to have to take over cooking duties. Know that most days she may not want to eat, but try to give her something. And if she asks for something and by the time you make it and bring it to her she doesn’t want it, don’t get mad, just put it away for a while and she may eat it later.”

Then she says, “What about sex?”

Say WHHHHHAAAAAAAAT??!! I look at Barbara and say, “Um, are you asking if we have sex, like sex, plan on sex or all of the above? And if you’re getting ready to tell me there is NO sex during chemo, then you can watch me walk out that door right now and you’ll never see me again.”

She chuckles, “No, you can have sex but you may not feel up to it because you’ll be so exhausted.” She looks a Greg and says, “So you’ll need to be patient and understanding.”

Greg replies, “Between the surgery and the port, she has so many holes in her, I’m afraid I’ll hurt her.”

 “Well you only need one hole, honey!” she quipped

Way to go, Nurse Barbara! You the man! (woman)

My first chemo appointment is a week from today. Hopefully they keep me this entertained for the next six months. 

Such a creative title "Chemo and You"

What Will Your T-Shirt Say?

I believe I eat pretty healthy overall, although I’m not going to turn down an occasional indulgence. I have always tried to avoid high fructose corn syrup, treats overloaded with refined sugar, heavily fried foods and fatty foods. However, my weakness is homemade mac & cheese and bacon in, on or with just about anything.

Since the cancer diagnosis I’m more conscious about the food I put in my mouth. I also have a BF who needs to address his high blood pressure, so I’m equally as conscious about what food I bring into the house.

Recently Trader Joe’s opened a store in Sarasota. If you’re not familiar with Trader Joes, it’s amazing! It’s like a discount Whole Foods store (a.k.a Whole Paycheck). Next time you’re near a TJ’s, go in and check it out, I promise you won’t be disappointed. Anyway, the one here is only an hour drive and I’m all about making the trek once a month to stock up on healthier food items, especially when the price is right! It doesn’t hurt that our favorite breakfast place is on the way either!

Since I’m still on the mend, I bribe my daughter into driving me down to TJ’s. Her payment is breakfast at The Breakfast House. It makes for a nice outing; I get my daily walking done while stocking up on some healthy food.

While we’re shopping at Trader Joe's I notice a woman wearing a baseball cap to cover her bald head. She is gaunt, yet appears fairly strong as she maneuvers around the store. I’m certain she is a cancer patient.  I can’t stop watching her. I’m curious to see what she is buying. She browses through the fresh herbs, carefully picking up and smelling the fresh basil and then the thyme. I lose her in the cereal aisle but see her again by the nuts and dried fruits. I feel sad for her because she is shopping all alone. Is she married? Does she have a family? Is she getting healthier? Or is she dying?

I divert my focus back to my shopping list. I’ve already had just about all I can handle for the day and I’m ready to go home and get horizontal for a while. I search the check out lines and I spot cancer lady on lane two. I pull my cart up right behind her. I notice her beautiful British accent as she makes small talk with the check out clerk. I see she’s stocking up on wine. My kind of gal! I try to work up the courage to ask her if wine is appealing during chemotherapy, but I chicken out. Even though I feel a twisted kinship with this stranger, I still feel its wrong for me to ask or more so, assume I understand her physical ailment. Hell, for all I know her bratty grandkids stole mom’s bottle of Nair while Grandma was napping and now she’s is bald!

Driving home I wonder what people think of me when they see the band aids on my chest and the port budging up under my skin. Maybe we all need t-shirts made, then others will know our struggle. “I just had my Chemo Port installed and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!” … “I have cancer, what’s your excuse?” … “I’m gonna kick Colon Cancer’s BUTT” …  and a special t-shirt for my British friend at Trader Joe’s, “It’s not cancer! My daughter’s bratty kids Naired me during a nap!” 

One of my favorite Trader Joe delicacies!! 

Reprieve

Today is a nice reprieve from cancer. My high school buddy, John, and his partner, Matt, are in town for a long weekend. We all met at Island Way Grill for a fabulous brunch and then a stroll along Clearwater Beach.

L to R: me, John, Greg and Matt

I still feel crappy physically from my port install on Friday, but mentally I’m feeling energized and happy about catching up with my old friend. Getting together John and Matt makes me feel fortunate that I have such a tight knit group of childhood friends. I honestly believe I can call any of them, at any time and ask for any thing, and without fail I know any of them would do whatever they can within their power to help me out. How many people are lucky enough to say that?  

A New Port - Full Sail Ahead

Today is port installation day. I wonder if they have a Hallmark card for that? I can’t say I’m looking forward to going back to the Surgery Center even though they treat me well. I know I promised myself I'm just going to keep moving forward, go through the motions, and continue to take it one day at a time. I'm guessing it is times like these when all those wonderful clichés get invented. 

Dr. N. stops by to tell me the procedure takes only 10-15 minutes, however from the time I enter the operating room to the time I exit is a little over an hour. The anesthesiologist injects the magical twilight drug into my IV and I am out before I even leave the holding area.

Once I wake up I notice I have this huge bandage on my chest. I get queasy at the thought of what is underneath. I’m achy and sore and can feel the foreign object inside me with every move I make.

As Greg drives me home, I stare out the window and wonder how I’m going to make peace with this new chapter in my life.  

Yes, I'm still a bit loopy but I never pass up a photo op with my luvah!

Dark and Twisty

I am in a dark & twisty place today. Everyone is getting under my skin, even my BFFs. I have friends that only want to talk about my cancer. A friend that warns me about eating out while I’m off work and recovering from my surgery. I have a friend that wants to dote over me as if I’m made of egg shells. Another who asks everyday when my chemo will start. I have friends that constantly tell me ‘stay positive’ to the point where I want to implode! PLEASE, don’t get me wrong, I cherish all my friends immensely and I do feel like the biggest asshole on the planet for feeling this way, but I can’t help it!! I chalk it up to stress.

In all fairness, I can’t say I know how to treat a friend with cancer either. When my BFF, Judi, was dying of colon cancer, I made a point to let her update me on her treatment and then I would fill the rest of our conversation with humorous anecdotal blather. I would make sure and discuss the future, telling her how I was making plans to visit her real soon. Sadly her untimely death came before I made it out to Colorado to see her. A painful regret I'll carry with me forever. ANYHOW, enough of my mournful reminiscing. After all these years, Judi remains in my heart and is always on my mind. I’m certain she knows that too. (Here is a TRIBUTE TO JUDI blog I made after her passing at age 47. Please visit and meet my friend with the million watt smile!) 

Judi, Tharn and me - Des Moines, Iowa 1994

I also want to share a link that a friend of mine added to my facebook after I posted my stage 3 cancer status update the other day. It’s a WSJ article on Conversing with the Ill. I read it and I couldn't agree more. I hope you find it equally as helpful. 

Tatt Me Up Before I Go Go!

Tattoos. You love ‘em or you hate ‘em. I don’t believe there is an in between.

I’m a tatted girl from way back. I got my first tattoo sometime around 1998 or ‘99. My second tattoo was in 2002, shortly after my mother passed away. And my third was in 2011 during a trip to Miami for my daughter’s 18^th birthday.

For the past two years I've been thinking about my fourth tattoo. I know I want a lotus flower, I just don't know where I’d put it on my body or how I’d want it to look.

As I get closer to my impending chemotherapy, I know I’m going to need something symbolic that I can focus on to get me through the process. The lotus tattoo is the first thing comes to mind. 

I meet with my tattoo artist, Eddie (Tattoos by Eddie). I decide I want it to look like a watercolor painting. After doing research online we can’t find any tattoo examples that are representative of what I want. Being the awesome artist that he is, Eddie goes out and buys watercolor paints so he can make my tattoo from scratch! Below is the artist’s rendering based on a photo and my final tattoo!

 

Eddies first attempt at painting my lotus flower. He did a great job!

I opted for less 'splatter' on my tattoo. I love it!

Lotus Flower Symbolism

The Taoist symbol is the open lotus blossom, signifying openness and wisdom. Taoist artists have used the lotus flower to symbolize beauty, light, and life, and adherence to Taoist principles.

In Buddhism the lotus flower represents rebirth ~ the dawn after one’s darkest day. It is also symbolic of strength, hope and an open heart. 

Date Night

Tuesday night is date night. That is the night my 12 year old spends with his dad. And it’s usually the only night of the week we can have uninterrupted adult conversation.

Tonight is especially nice as we are going to Bonefish courtesy of a gift card I received from a few sweet and caring members of my department. It is the first night in a long time that I feel like eating a full meal since my surgery too! It's refreshing to enjoy some normal for the first time weeks. 

Anti or Social Media?

Today on facebook I posted the following status regarding my cancer.

“OK, so I'm just gonna rip the band aid off and put it out there...
Went to the Doc and the Oncologist last week. I found out that I have stage 3 colon cancer. Yes, as in three out of four stages. Good, absolutely not. Fixable, hell to the YES! What now, you say? Once I heal from surgery, I start six months of chemotherapy. After that my plan is to be 100% cancer free! Damn good plan, I say!”

Some may look at this is a social media faux pas. Others might look at it with mild disdain thinking that the information is way too personal to share in such a broad based manner. But to me, it’s called SOCIAL MEDIA for a reason.

By definition:

Social: An informal social gathering, esp. one organized by the members of a particular group: "a church social".

Media: The main means of mass communication regarded collectively: "the campaign won media attention".

Today I am doing just that, communicating information to everyone in my chosen group. How else am I going to tell over 100 of my friends, family and close acquaintances that I need to go through chemotherapy? I’m feeling overwhelmed as it is, I certainly can’t imagine making that many phone calls or writing that many emails.

As the day progresses, I watch the benefit of my raw honesty unfold. The outpouring of love and encouragement from everyone washes over me like a tsunami. I am deeply touched and left speechless. I have always considered myself a connoisseur of inherently good people. And in recent years, I’ve even done some purging by abandoning those who wish to bring negativity and hate into my life. Sadly it took me 40 odd years to realize you can break up with friends, even family, if they aren’t good for you. So as difficult as it is to throw myself out there, I’m glad I am because it’s the high octane fuel driving me to beat this thing. 

Of Interest

Here is some colon cancer info I found during my journey. 

Grumpy Cat makes me laugh. I love this cat!!! 

Moving on to the Oncologist

I waste no time getting an appointment the oncologist. I've spent the week doing research and have learned a lot and gotten very confused and frustrated a lot too. I am so overwhelmed I break down in tears trying to sort through it all. I eventually concede and decide I’m going to stop over thinking this and just take it all day by day. I will attempt to go with the flow as the information comes to me.

My oncologist is very thorough. He reviews the pathology reports and discusses it all in great detail. He tells me the cells in the cancerous polyp are the same cells found in the lymph nodes, this is a small relief for me knowing the cancer didn't come from another place in my body. He goes on to explain when cancer hits the lymph nodes it puts me automatically at stage three. I think, stage three … that is three of four!?! WTF! The doc explains that I’ll need treatment for 3 days every two weeks for the next 6 months. Great, this year is pretty much shot!

The next thing I need to do is get a Venus Access Port installed in my chest. Dr. N.’s office can do that procedure at the Surgery Center. That way the chemo will get plugged in and funneled through the port. Apparently all that poking and prodding during chemo treatment will ruin the veins in my arms.

The good news to come out of this, if that is even possible, is I won’t lose my hair. The oncologist said it will ‘thin’ but shouldn't fall out. I question what a man thinks is thinning hair may not be in line with what a woman thinks is thinning hair? Hmmm. At least my pal and stylist, Erin, has my back and scalp. I know she’ll help me through any hair crisis!

I told the oncologist that I wanted the weekend to think about everything we discussed and I’d get back to him next week. He assured me that my age and good health would make me a great candidate to come out on the other side of this treatment cancer free and live a long life.

Greg and I leave the office and without saying a word to one another, we both know damn well that I’ll get the treatment. We reunited three years ago with idea that we will spend the next 30 - 40 years together, enjoying one another as much as possible! I’m not about to let him down!

Greg and me circa 1982

Rogue Cells

Today is my post surgery follow up. This is the appointment where I find out how my life will be changing since I STILL have cancer.

Dr. N. explains how the cancer cells can start moving through the colon wall and easily pop out though the bloodstream, which is how they get into the lymph nodes. Cancer cells are rogue, they don’t follow the laws and logic normal cells follow. Cancer cells like to multiple quickly with not rules, rhyme or reason as to why.

Cancer cells as depicted by Marisa Acocella Marchetto in her book Cancer Vixen. 

My next step is to meet with an oncologist and discuss my stage and cancer treatment. Dr. N. recommends the oncologist who treated his wife. I think to myself, dang even these doctors and their families can’t escape fucking cancer. 

What Now?

I think I slept 3 hours last night. Why, why does this keep happening? I want off this emotional roller coaster. Stop the ride, I demand my money back!

We are no longer talking about slicing and dicing Linda open so she can be done with cancer and move on with her life. We are entering the twilight zone. At this point, it's a matter of life or death. OK, perhaps I am being a bit overly dramatic, but if you have never heard your name married to the word cancer, you have NO idea what I’m talking about. Even if you've heard a loved one’s name with the word cancer, it’s still not the same. Call me conceited, but this is now an issue of MY mortality.

I am not insane. I know I will die one day. Preferably at a ripe old age after I attend my grandchildren’s weddings and hold a few great-grandchildren in my arms. Somehow being told I have cancer makes all those dreams quickly wash away and I begin to wonder if I’ll even be here next year. My mortality is staring me in the face, taunting me … “So whatchaya gonna do now, bitch?”

What am I gonna do now? The obvious answer is FIGHT LIKE HELL. How can I not? That is what everyone expects of me. It’s not that I don’t want to, but I feel so defeated and it’s only just begun.  

Waiting is the Hardest Part

First thing in the morning I call and leave a message for Dr. N. to call me. I want my pathology results.

Tick-tock. 

Around 2pm I call again. “Please have someone call me with the results from my pathology report.” Pretty sure I sound desperate. But hey, if desperate gets me a call back, then I'm all for it!

Around 3:30 my phone rings. I see the caller ID. My heart falls to my stomach. My stomach sinks to my knees. It’s Dr. N. He starts talking about the polyp and the part of the colon he removed. The whole time I am certain there is a “but” coming. He proceeds to tell me how my intestine looked good and the cancer didn't work it’s way through the intestinal wall BUT ...

The cancer did move outside of the colon and was found in two of the fifteen surrounding lymph nodes.  He said we’d discuss this in detail at our appointment on Thursday which is good because my mind was going into shut down mode. I had read enough about cancer to know spreading to the lymph nodes is a very bad thing, even if it is only two lymph nodes. I liken cancer cells to cockroaches, where there are two there are two thousand. 

Cancer is now on the move in my body. Tick-tock. 

Home Sweet Home

Feels so good to be home and sleep in my own bed. Well, at least until I need to get out of 'said bed'. I didn't realize how many stomach muscles were cut during laparoscopic surgery until I need to use them! And God forbid I need to cough because at that point I’m fairly certain the stitches holding my intestines together will rupture thus rendering me lifeless. Yeah, I am feeling whiny today if you haven’t noticed. 

My nap buddy, Mulder. 

I have my post surgery follow up scheduled for Thursday. I left a message for Dr. N. to call me with pathology results. 

Tick-tock. 

It’s now past 5 O’clock. The voice in my head kicks into high gear. 

The jabbering won't stop, “He isn't returning your call because he’s trying to stall until your appointment on Thursday. Doctors like to deliver bad news in person, you know!”

I can’t wait for this to all be over. The weird thing is, today is the first time I feel like the voice is right. I have a strong sense Dr. N. really is avoiding me. 

This was so sweet!!! I got flowers from our favorite servers at the restaurant we frequent. 

Three More Daze ...

The next few days all mush together. I walk the halls to build strength and get my ‘system’ moving again. I try to keep positive. I learn hospital gossip from the cool nurses. I eat pathetically small amounts of food that looks pre-chewed. I appreciate the fact I have social media to keep me company. I’m grateful for all my loving friends and family that send me beautiful flowers to brighten my stay and make me feel loved. Once again, I’m feeling like I’m back on the upswing and my life can now return to normal after this little bump in the road!

Except one thing. The damn little voice still hums in the back of my head, “Remember it’s not over. You don’t have your pathology results yet.”

Killjoy. 

My daily hall walking

Working on keeping a positive attitude (and cause a little trouble!)

Where is the alcohol? Not my idea of a liquid diet. 

From my loving friends and family 

The day I graduated to pre-chewed food. BLECH!! 

Nurse Ratched Lives!

My first night in the hospital is horrible. I have the pleasure of Nurse Ratched watching over me. Around midnight she comes in and offers me a 8 ounce soda or juice. Thankfully I have the presence of mind to know that was a big no-no. I don’t know if I read that in my pre-surgery research or what, all I know is that it would be a horrible mistake to drink liquids this soon after surgery.

So I tell her, “I’m not suppose to drink liquids for the first 24 hours.”

“It says you’re on a liquid diet" pointing to my chart on the white board, "Yes you can.”

I disagree, “No. I’m pretty sure that is a bad idea given the surgery I just had.”

She stomps out of the room and returns about 10 minutes later. “You can have ice chips. Do you want some?” she says in a snotty voice.

“Sure.” I say.

Quite an accurate likeness!! LOL

The rest of the night is pure torture as if on purpose. I can tell when I’m not liked and Nurse Ratched does NOT like me. Every shot she gives me is done with a hard jab. The IV alarm keeps going off about every 20 minutes for some fucked up reason, thus meaning I need to ring the nurse’s station for assistance. She mets me with disdain every time she enters my room. I think I slept a total of 2 hours all whole night.

The shift change at 9 am makes me so happy! Thank God I get an awesome nurse after my night from hell! Sharon is a fun, smart assy, straightforward nurse. She knows her shit and wasn't about to take anyone’s shit either!

Toward the end of Sharon’s shift I work up the nerve to ask her who my nurse is for the night. I confessed that last night was awful and I couldn't deal with lack of sleep and Nurse Ratched again. Sharon makes sure I get assigned a sweet nurse. Finally I got some sleep!! 

Surgery Day

Today is my descending colectomy laparoscopic surgery with urethral stints. In layman’s terms, it’s colon resection surgery. Now, let me answer the obvious question first. Yes, I am scared.

I’ve had six surgeries in my lifetime. All of them took place just before and after the age of 40. My advice to everyone, don’t turn 40 because that’s when the surgeries seem to start. For me it began with a simple tubal ligation about a year after my youngest was born. My ex was chicken shit so he never got around to getting a vasectomy – hence my third was born. I love all my kids deeply, but I did not want a fourth and the tubal became necessary. That was followed by a bunionectomy on each foot one in 2002 and one in 2003. After that, a partial hysterectomy in 2004 (I kept my ‘vitals’ since I wasn’t ready for full on menopause). Then my gallbladder was removed around 2006, followed by my knee surgery in 2011. All were done laparoscopic for which I am very grateful!

Even after all those surgeries, I am still feeling quite apprehensive about this one. Hell, you’d think I would be a seasoned pro by now! It’s the damn C word. For some reason the word cancer changes EVERYTHING. In my mind, the force is with me. I believe I’ll come out on the other side of this with a story to tell my grandkids someday. How could I not? The love of my life is by my side, cheering me on every step of the way!

I wake up a few hours later. For the next 24 hours I am floating in a morphine cloud. My Greg is sweet to update my facebook page so everyone who is praying for me knows that I am OK. So far... so good! I do remember going in, but coming out, not so much. I’m still foggy... so foggy I was sure Greg said Dr. N. also took my ovaries out. Took my ovaries out too?  What? I know they aren't the most attractive ovaries based on my CT Scan, but take them out?  Guess it’s good bye cancer. Hello menopause.

My sweetie snuggled up with me in my hospital bed ~ love! 

For anyone curious about colon cancer surgery just click here! 

Tattoo my Colon

I've been here so often that I’m friends with all the nurses at the Surgery Center. In fact, I’m now the Mayor on Foursquare, which means I've been here waaaaayyy too much in the past 30 days!

I'm thrilled as you can see.

My favorite nurse who works with my colon doc (I hate that I can't remember her name!) was surprised to see me back again. She can't get over the fact I have cancer. She said, “We all looked at that polyp and said, nah… looks fine. I can’t believe it came back with cancer!” 

I asked to talk to my colon doc before they put me under. I knew he would have the results of my ultrasound. He did and THANK GOD it's all good! He said the right ovary has a real gnarly, knotted up cyst growing around it. Sounds lovely! He was sure Dr. N. would take pictures of it during surgery tomorrow so we can keep and eye on it going forward.

Whew! What a relief!! One down, two to go!

When I awoke from my anal probing tattoo session I was told the doctor easily found and marked the area where the cancerous polyp was removed two weeks ago. Another Whew! He also found three more tiny polyps and diverticulitis. Seems to me that area of my colon is a hotbed for unwanted growths. I was starting to feel better about having that section removed.

April Fool

Pitty the fool that decides to pull one over on me this April Fool’s Day. I’m in no mood. Wait. I am in ‘a mood’, but not the one that is all about fun filled trickery. I’m in a ‘don’t fuck with me, I’m wound so tight I could explode’ mood, the kind that sends men and children running for the hills at the mere sight of me.

I found out Friday that I need to meet with my primary care doc for a pre-surgery physical today! At this point I’m wondering if there is anyone out there who isn't getting a piece of me. 

The truth be told, I don’t mind my doc, my day is pretty much shot anyway. He is a cool guy with a good sense of humor and easy on the eyes. While I’m there he listens to my heart, checks my breathing and then we basically talk for 30 minutes straight. He tells me stories of cancer patients he’s had, much younger than me, who have endured horrible bouts with the C word. Some even passed away. He all but promises me the mass they see on my ovaries will turn out to be nothing. We chat away like two college buddies talking baseball stats over beer, except our conversation revolves around cancer. All the while it never dawns on me I could be one of ‘those people’ who end up in one of his stories someday. In fact, I’m feeling overly optimistic as long as I can tamp down that annoying little voice inside my head.

An hour later I’m downstairs getting the ultrasound of my ovaries.

“Are they kicking?” I ask.

The technician chuckles.

“It's much more exciting to see a fetus bouncing around in there!”  I say.

After she rubs the probe around on my lower belly for a while, she then hands me a 'special tool’. This one is designed to see my ovaries from the INSIDE. Oh my, I suddenly feel like I’m in an episode of Sex in the City.

“Thanks Samantha.”  I say while inserting the probe so the tech to take a closer look.

As I smoke a cigarette and bask in the afterglow, I realize it’s time to head home and begin, yet another, colon prep. Bye-bye three days of buffet food.