For dinner tonight I had, “LetgoMyEggo” waffles. And water. Tomorrow’s menu will consist of liquids. All day.
Instead of dinner the gallon size jug with powder on the bottom will be mixed with water. If you are over 50 you may already recognize this ritual. Go Lytly. Not. That’s correct! Prep for a colonoscopy. Again.
A year ago, give or take a couple of days, I was diagnosed with colon cancer. It was a relief. The first responders answering the 9-1-1 call quickly assessed me and determined a speedy transfer to the emergency room was in order. My drive way was directly across the street from the main entrance to the hospital. I could have walked. If I could have walked.
Within about forty-eight hours, my health spiraled rapidly downward.
Blood pressure plummeted. Acute anemia; dehydration; sepsis of the kidney. Thus began the journey through diagnostic medicine and machines. Including a colonoscopy.
The diagnosis of colon cancer sneaked up on me. I had no time to wander and worry about it. Surgery was scheduled. Everything else just unraveled accordingly. During the past year I have had more doctor appointments, blood draws, ultrasound exams, MRI’s PET scans than during the previous 63 years.
Follow up appointments with the surgeon, oncology appointments, nephrology appointments, hepatology appointments. Abnormal this or that. January another colonoscopy appeared normal. More tests and blood work. PET scan in May. Again in July. Liver improving; but “hot spots” found in May doubled in July.
Wednesday, (day after tomorrow) another colonoscopy for an inside view of whatever the PET scan saw. The initial diagnosis was easily taken in stride. There was no time to think about it. I have had weeks to cope with the anxiety of what, if anything, this colonoscopy will reveal.
As bothersome as the prep for the colonoscopy may be, it is one of those necessities of life. In order to get an unobstructed view, it’s the “way to go.” Liquids during the day; half of the go quickly drink tomorrow evening. My arrival time for the scope is 1 p.m.
By 10:00 a.m. Wednesday morning, the remaining half of the stimulating beverage has to be consumed. Followed by an enema. Don’t be too jealous, you too can experience this adventure soon.
By nature I am curious. I have done some research, preparing myself for the worst case scenario, recurrence, progression or metastatic process, yet hoping for nothing. My gut instinct is leaning toward the worst case. My daughter is convinced it is nothing. One of us is bound to be correct.
Research results applied to myself seem to be more consistent with progression rather than recurrent or metastatic. Not enough time has passed (although this is controversial) for recurrence. Progressive usually occurs within a shorter window of time. Even though surgical removal “got everything,” and nearby nodes were clean, sometimes one or some of the cancer cells either resisted chemo, or were to small to detect until now.
The phrase, “It is what it is,” becomes relevant. Worrying about what could be is wasted energy. Anything that needs to be done, is being done. The universe is unfolding as it should. Patiently waiting for answers for an otherwise patient optimist is torture. Searching for possible answers on reliable web sites helps calm me. A little.
Most likely I will be unable to sit at the keyboard long enough tomorrow to post a blog. After the colonoscopy on Wednesday, the mystery may be revealed. Or, I may need to wait to see the oncologist on Tuesday the 18th.
I’ll keep you all posted.