Surgical Procedure Simple & Complete

This mornings procedure was relatively simple and successful. Dr. Cagir was able to make the repairs without having to open my abdominal cavity. The likelihood of having to do so was low, but it was a possibility. As I woke up, I placed my hands on my abdomen and joyfully smiled as I felt no new incision.

In addition to correcting the stoma, Dr. Cagir also placed some cadaver tissue on the herniated area of my abdomen. I have DEAD PEOPLE inside me. AAAAAHHHHHHHHH! I know I'll be waking up to thoughts of this now and again.

It's a relief to have my large intestine as well as the hernia corrected. It had gotten progressively worse over the years. I really look forward to a far more comfortable future.

Out-Patient Procedure Time

On Wednesday January 2nd, I will have the stoma correction surgery I mentioned on November 24th. If things go as planned, it will be an outpatient procedure and I'll be released by mid to late afternoon. And my doc did tell me it could possibly be one to two overnights in the hospital, but that's all to be determined.

I feel more anxious than I normally do. I've had major surgery three times and enough minor procedures that I've lost track of how many I've had. In the past, the surgeries and procedures, were uncharted waters and since they were my chosen method of treatment, I embraced them and took them on with some curios excitement. Not like I liked it, or even wanted any thing to do with it, but I actually used to find myself a bit captivated by the experience. Kind of like watching a house fire. It's not something you want to have happen, but if it's happening in front of you, and you have no experience with such things, it can be a bit captivating.

I believe that's how I've approached my surgeries and surgical procedures in the past. But I've been through it enough that I no longer care to discover the unknown aspects. There's no longer any excitement. I signed up for this procedure because it's a quality of life issue. I just been down this road enough times. So, I do look forward to my quality of life improving. And to being home again. There's a couple hugs I'm already looking forward to.


Now I'm off to take my night-before-surgery-shower with the stinky pre-surgery anti-bacterial soap. Then back to the couch. I doubt I'll get much sleep.

Stay the Course

Last week I was in a state of fear about the possibility of an eventual recurrence. Yet the banner at the top of my blog says:

My commitment is to transform our current cultural conversation about cancer from one of fear and dread to one that empowers those of us who have cancer, as well as our friends & loved ones.

 I had cancer. Cancer didn't have me.

Last week this was not the case. My cancer had me. My thinking had me. It was disempowering and thus it didn't serve me. As a Life Coach I support people navigating a cancer diagnosis so they stay empowered in the face of whatever circumstances they face. Ironically, I was not engaged in the work I do with others. Fortunately, due to the bold generosity of a friend's facebook message and one face-to-face conversation with a new acquaintance on the street, I realized I had stepped away from my commitment to living inside an empowering context regardless of circumstances.

It happens now and again. Of course it does. I'm human. But what was different this time is that I didn't reach out to my support network. Instead I got "stuck in my head." Or to put it plain English, I got scared and didn't speak up with the people in my life who are committed to coach me to create an empowering context to live my life from.

For over five years, I have dealt with painful and profoundly difficult circumstances, and for the most part, I have been able to be strong in the face of it because I consistently reach out for support/coaching when I feel confronted or scared or overwhelmed with my circumstances. As a result, I have remained grateful for my life and present to love for my life, regardless of my circumstances because the circumstances are not me, they are just circumstances. We all have them. But last week I was lost in my circumstances; lost in my fear and forgot there was a way out.


What I'm clear about now is that I can be concerned about my quarterly scan results each time I have a scan, but being afraid of what the results might be, does not serve me. Like being chased by a bear. It makes sense to be scared. But if I'm in a forest where bears live, there's no reason to be scared if I am not aware of any bears. Now inside that of that analogy, I have been chased by bears before, but I am unwilling to walk through the forest scared for the rest of my life. It doesn't serve me. The fear did serve me initially. It got me to take quick action so I could stay alive, but after that, it doesn't provide anything. It just gets in the way.

I am grateful for my life, my kids, my family, and so many people and things. There has been no sign of cancer in my body for over a year. Being declared cancer-free after receiving a Stage IV cancer diagnosis...that's pretty damn fantastic! I still feel like a stranger in my new life, but I'm okay with that because so much of my life is new and uncharted. Christmas begins in two days and will take us into the New Year. I love this time of year. But I won't create a resolution for the coming year. I will stay the course and be clear that I am healthy.

And whether you celebrate Christmas or not, I wish you a Merry Christmas and the strength to face powerfully, whatever circumstances come your way, for the coming year and for many, many more to come.

All Clear

The CT scan came back NEGATIVE. Doctor Kemeny reminded me it has been over a year now that I have been cancer-free. She said once I reach the two year mark, that will be an even greater milestone. Next scan in three months.

Quarterly Scan

Monday December 17th I head to NYC for my quarterly CT scan & blood work. I haven't been this anxious about a scan since my very first one five and a half years ago. Honestly it feels like the results will tell me one of two tings:

A) You have had a recurrence

OR

B) You haven't had a recurrence yet.

My once, nearly unshakable confidence has indeed been rattled. So much of what I thought was "my life" is no longer. A part of that has to do with the prognosis being "very likely only a matter of time before it's back." That on top of everything else has begun to weigh heavy on me.

I believe an individual's intention makes a difference. I just no longer have unwavering intention about my future.  If I at all felt like there was something holding me up other than me, I would feel a little more grounded. Yet from another perspective, my son & step-son give me reason to stand on my own. And so I do.

And I can't help but notice a change in who I am right now. When I heard about the news in Connecticut on Friday, I shed a few tears for a total of five minutes. A year ago, I would have shed tears on and off for a few days. I feel maxed out, like there's not much to give right now. Like a dear in the headlights. I know I should react but I feel kinda frozen.

Maybe after five and a half years of high stress, one things after another, there's going to be some impact. I'm exhausted. My emotions are by no means "off," but there appears to have been a shift and I feel wiped out. Every day.

I believe this will change over time. We find our way back. Human beings are incredible. But I can't help but wonder if this is some kind of post-trauma emotional crash of some sort. For those who don't interact with me regularly, some perspective would help. Groceries are purchased, food is cooked, laundry is done, the house is clean. Play dates and birthday parties and great times with the grandparents are common in my little boy's life. I'm just tired right now. Physically and emotionally tired.

Tomorrow I do a round trip to NYC. Hopefully driving home with good news.

Post-Poned

My procedure has been rescheduled for January 2nd. Being on antibiotics for a nasty cold or whatever it is, makes me ineligible.

FREEDOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I've scheduled my "stoma correction" procedure for December 5th. I don't think it's called a surgery because no body cavities are being opened and no muscles will be cut in half. Instead, my large intestine will be cut away from the skin of my abdomen, it will be pulled out just enough so it no longer folds (it kind of does an 'S' curve just before it reaches the stoma a.k.a. the place it exits my body), it will then be "trimmed" and then it will be restitched to my abdominal skin in the same place it was before.

Dr. Cagir says he may use some cadaver tissue to cover the area where the large intestine is herniating to keep it from poking out anymore. I asked him if I would have nightmares from part of a dead body being inside of me. His nurse practitioner said, "No." I then said, "Not from the tissue itself but from my brain freaking out about dead people being inside me." She shrugged and said I'd be fine. A terrible four-letter word, i.e., "Everything is going to be just fine." I can hear the violin shrieks from the shower scene in Psycho. Hell, I have vivid dreams when I buy a new fish for the aquarium. I can't wait to see what's in store if I do get the cadaver tissue. Maybe I'll be able to channel dead people after this. That would be a cool party trick.

The procedure may result in an overnight stay or it may be an outpatient procedure. I'm voting for outpatient. To tell you the truth, I'm hoping Dr. Cagir will agree to just use a local anesthetic. And then maybe I can watch the procedure perhaps with the help of a mirror. But after watching Braveheart, I'm kind of wondering if intestine being pulled out actually hurts like the movie suggests thus not allowing for only a local. Then again, if all goes well, only a very small portion of my intestine will be...extracted. If he does let me watch the procedure, I plan to quietly feign-scream, "FREEDOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" as the inch or two of intestine is pulled out. It's always good to make people laugh when they're gently pulling out an organ.

So, I return to Robert Packer Hospital once again. Hopefully the recovery won't be much of anything. Crossing my fingers (and not my intestine).