Particularly unwelcome news
As health scares go, I’d rate it as a solid 8, edging toward a 9.
To cut to the chase, I’m recovering from surgery to remove a tumor from my lower bowel. The pathology report confirmed it’s cancer, officially known as a “well-differentiated neuroendocrine tumor, grade 2.”
As a cancer survivor – I had a malignant prostate removed several years ago – this news was particularly unwelcome.
I beat the Big C once, thank you very much. Jeezus, how many times does one person have to go into the ring with such an implacable and indominable foe?
The answer, it appears, is – as many times as it takes.
My doctors tell me that it could be much worse. My tumor is slow-growing and nonaggressive. It isn’t the kind of cancer that spreads wildly and kills quickly and certainly.
My surgeon says his team got all of it they could detect, taking 15 inches of my lower bowel and part of my colon in the process. But because my lymph nodes were affected, the possibility remains that it could spread. Dogged vigilance, it appears, is in my future – forever.
My gastroenterologist, who’s treated me for ulcerative colitis for more than 25 years, essentially told me to take a deep breath. Perhaps he detected the poorly disguised terror in my voice.
“Nobody wants to have cancer,” he said. “But if you’ve got to have it, this is the kind to have.”
It all started with the digestive issues I've been having for months. Normally, my UC has been kept in check by regular infusions of a miracle drug called Remicade, sometimes referred to as the “million-dollar drug,” both for its effectiveness and its hefty price tag. (Thank God for Medicare.)
But fierce cramps and a constant upset stomach had ruined my Zen so I went to the doctor and began searching for answers.
After an MRI, a combined colonoscopy and endoscopy, a stool study (don’t ask), and finally a CAT-scan, the truth began to emerge. “We found a nodule in your lower intestine,” my doc said.
“Hmm, that doesn’t sound good,” I replied. “How much trouble am I in?”
“I dunno,” he said unhelpfully, but not unkindly. “But it’s got to come out.”
So off to a surgeon I went. He went in for a cute little nodule and came out with a big ole scary tumor. Lucky me.
Next in store is a session with an oncologist to decide on next steps. My chief job now, I suppose, is to stay positive. That's easier said than done, particularly for a glass-half-empty kinda guy like me for whom thinking positively isn’t a natural state.
I don’t expect to be a regular chronicler of my “cancer journey.” Mostly because I don’t think it’s going to be very interesting or illuminating.
But my family and some of my friends are aware of the health issues swirling around me so I offer this update and thank them for their continued interest and strong temporal and spiritual support. It makes a difference even if sometimes I'm not gracious enough to acknowledge it.
Onward through the fog!
