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October 20, 2003
Colon? I don't want no stinkin' colon!
The gastro-intestinal specialist was very nice and said the only way to resolve the mystery would be a colonoscopy. It was scheduled for three weeks later on October 9th. The procedure was remarkably easy... mostly due to the drugs they gave me. It was like being drunk. You'd swear you were lucid at any given moment, but two seconds later you'd have forgotten what you said. Anyhow, about 10 minutes into the procedure the doctor annouced he'd found a mass and was getting the hell out of my colon. Or something like that. Remember the drugs?
Anyway, the wheeled me somewhere to let the high wear off and when my husband arrived to ferry me home, the doctor sat us down and explained.
It was probably cancer. It would need to be removed. Did I know a surgeon? I named the one who had stood me up (he was still a really nice guy, I figured it was his office staff that sucked rocks), and the specialist said that he was a good doctor. I might need chemo following the surgery, and maybe radiation therapy. It didn't seem to have gone through the intestinal wall. It hadn't metastasized or gone nodal. I didn't have any clue what those meant, but figured it was good. He said I probably wouldn't need a colostomy bag. Until he brought it up, neither Jason nor I had considered it.
The doctor said he'd have recommended a liquid diet, except that I seemed to be digesting just fine. He had done a biopsy and the results would go to my regular doctor's office.
He had already spoken to her and I should call her tomorrow. For the first of many times I was told how unusual it was for someone my age with no family history of colon cancer to have a tumor. I was still goofy from the drugs and just happy to be able to leave the hospital, but Jason was really blown over by all this.
Still, when the drugs wore off, I was buoyed up by the fact that he'd said it was "probably" cancer. Since I'd been told the stomach pains were "probably" ovarian cysts, "probably" appendicitis and "probably" diverticulitis, I was not prepared to accept the diagnoses without proof.
When I finally tracked down my regular doctor the following day (she wasn't in the office and her receptionist was at first unwilling to find her for me), she acted like it was definate until I asked her about the biopsy results. She knew nothing about them and claimed the gastro specialist had told her it was definately cancer. Wonderful. At any rate, I'd be able to see the surgeon on October 14th at his normal office.
The surgeon said regardless of whether it was cancer, it was large enough that digestion would soon be an issue, so it had to come out. I was scheduled to go under the knife a week later on October 21st.
On the 16th, after many messages left with her office, my doctor got back to me to say that yes, it was indeed cancer. She was very sorry. And completely useless. Time to start looking for a new primary care physician, I think.
Posted by Nicole at October 20, 2003 04:33 PM