I had my annual cancer review – a CT scan, followed up with a colonoscopy. I was terrified of the latter, the last time I had the procedure I found out I had cancer –a room full of students staring at a computer screen and me with a tube up my gaping butt, half stoned and feeling vulnerable. It was both terrifying and humiliating.
I tried everything to get out of the colonoscopy, I asked if I could take a tablet (pioneer surgery has developed a tablet that can record your body as it flows through your digestive tract . I was not eligible. I did get out of the horrible drink to clear your insides out though, which actually kind of backfired. I had a self indued enema instead and well when the camera was inserted you can see my tubes were a bit mucky.
Anyway, on arrival to the procedure I had what I can only describe as a panic attack and another in the waiting room. Staff were brilliant with me, but I had to kick myself in to reality, there was a lady in the waiting room with me who was waiting to see if she had cancer. Me hyperventilating as she had her own terror was selfish, and I did grow a pair, but as soon as she left for her own procedure i went back in to panic mode. The good news is that due to a lack of colon what would normally last 30 minutes last less then five, but those minutes are unpleasant. Note procedure showed no sign of cancer in us both WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP.
A cause for celebration you might say, and I celebrated for one night – but that was it. No long term elation, no joy, no ‘I’ve done it’. To survive cancer means you go back to normal, the 9-5 job, walking Bertie, seeing friends and family. And although life is richer, I was worried why I felt this anticlimax.
That is why I haven’t written for a while, I wanted to find me again, the person I was before this hit. And I couldn’t, when I found out I was cancer free my Uncle and friend from School were diagnosed and it sent me in to a tailspin. Why does this keep happening, I felt the walls close in and just wanted to help and save my family and friends but I knew I couldn’t.
As always Maggies were on side and we organised a load of sessions, I wasn’t depressed, I was frustrated because I am lucky, and I have (so far) escaped with only mild ailments post treatment – I mean the inability now to hold in a fart and the plantar fasciitis is still a breeze in comparison to Chemo. But there we are, a line has been drawn.
Life is going well, Berts and I are continually busy, we have found insane walks, got doggy playmates and she even goes to playschool on a Friday (that is the day I can get most work done and some house work too).
I got promoted at work which I am so chuffed by, so things are on the up finally.