For those of you who don’t know, in 2007 I was diagnosed with colon cancer which was treated with surgery and chemotherapy. Then, last February, I found out it had returned, necessitating more surgery and chemotherapy (you can read more about it here). I know exposition is boring, but I had to go there in case there are any newcomers here, today. Otherwise, the rest of this post wouldn’t make a whole lot of sense to them. You see, Friday, I had my quarterly CT scan following up the recent poisoning attempt by my oncologist. Yes, I just said “poisoning attempt”. What else can you call it when they pump enough toxic substances into you to kill the mutant cells your body insists on manufacturing but try not to kill you in the process. If you’re wondering, yes, it’s just as bad as it sounds.
Compared to some of the procedures I’ve had, a CT scan is relatively easy. You don’t have to drink that disgusting prep you do for a colonoscopy nor do you have to endure the indignities that are heaped upon during a hospital stay. And, believe me, there are indignities aplenty. The gowns everyone complains about are the least of your worries. I’m a grown man and I do not care to have a nurses and doctors who aren’t much older than my daughter poking and probing into body cavities best left unnamed. That’s not say CT scans are a day at the beach, however. The contrast, while it doesn’t taste all that bad if you get it cold enough, causes some gastric distress. Which is a nice way of saying that I can’t get very far from the bathroom the rest of the day. As bad as all that is, it’s not the worst part. No, the worst part is not knowing.
I keep telling myself the odds of a recurrence this soon after chemotherapy are probably remote, but there’s a nagging little voice in the back of my mind that says “Yeah, but what if it’s back anyway?” I’m telling you, this does not make for a fun weekend. Now, compared to what some people deal with on a daily basis, I have it pretty good. I have family and friends that love me, plenty to eat, a roof over my head and a decent amount of security that these things won’t change. But, that doesn’t mean what I’m dealing with is easy. Not knowing the results is a form of suffering and, while it doesn’t rise to the level spoken of above, it’s still sucks. That I have good people supporting and praying for me is important. It’s not enough to shut up the pessimistic little fucker that lives in my head, but helps. It’s how I get by. If you have a free moment sometime prior to 2 PM today (that’s when I get the results) and feel like offering a prayer, it would be greatly appreciated.