Take two Cheese Sandwiches and call me in the morning.

     OK I admit I have a passion for the comfort food of my youth, the quintessential Grilled Cheese Sandwich.  Made the old fashioned way: Kraft singles on White Bread, smothered in butter and fried up on the stove.   A big ol' blob of Heinz ketchup on the side, and you have described the zenith of my culinary arts.  The cousin of the GCS, the humble CS was often a staple for my lunch.  Alas for responsible eating; awareness of the 'badness' of white bread,  and the scorn heaped upon the maligned single-slice.  Carbs and artery-hardening fats, that's all a Cheese Sandwich is.  It's all it's meant to be.  It has no place in our everyday diet.  Well, almost no place...

     This Monday, April 18th 2011 marks my second Colonoscopy procedure.  It's a big deal to be sure, lots of concerns of what might be found, given my prior history.  Of course the focus is always about the preparation.  You see the preparation ("Prep", for those who are so cool they only used abbreviated words) begins some three days in advance.  It's designed to rid the body of pretty much anything that might be hanging around and interfering with the actual procedure.  And it begins with switching to a soft-food diet.

   Day One of the prep for me began Friday the 15th.  A soft food diet has no fibre, is easily chewed and breaks down quickly as it's digested.  A soft food diet is also known as 'The Bland Diet'.   That's where the humble Cheese Sandwich comes in.   I figure that a single slice of cheese on two pieces of white bread (meaning: no fibre, melt-in-your mouth bread, the kind we all grew up with; the kind we can't have anymore!) constitutes "soft" foods in my book.  No lettuce. No Mayo, no salt or pepper.  That was my lunch.   A banana (ok, a MUSHY banana) and a vanilla yogurt rounded off the midday meal.   Also I could have Black coffee (because I drink it that way normally), and about 42 litres of water.  Well, maybe not 42 litres, but it was a lot of water.    My breakfast was the same, except it was two slices of bread toasted and no cheese.

    I usually have a fibre-type cereal for breakfast in the morning with berries and fruit, or throw granola and flax seed onto my Special K.  Today it was two pieces of toast and another mushy banana  to get me through til lunch.   So how do I top the splendid repast I had prepared for my lunch?  Mashed potatoes and scrambled eggs for supper. No salt, pepper or anything else.  Another damn mushy banana for dessert.  Another vanilla yogurt.  Chug another glass of water. Chug yet another glass of water.  Pee for an hour,  I'm so waterlogged today.  I'm also reasonably full, no desire to snack, no munchy attacks, no feelings of being gastronomically denied.  By Sunday I'll be recalling today's menu with fond memories that will have me salivating.

    Saturday begins the prep in earnest.  Only "full" fluids, meaning:  cream soups, yogurt, water, tea,coffee, no fibre/fruit/solids of any kind.  No bread, the CS is once more relegated to the furthest recesses of my dietary imprisonment.  Ensure -the dietary supplement drink- I still have some from this past summer, still  as good as it ever was. (Which explains why I still have some from this past summer).   Oh, and I need to drink lots of water.  And I can eat Jello.   I have not had Jello Since late September of 2010.  At that time I was recovering from my Liver surgery, so I had Jello for breakfast.  I had Jello for lunch.  I had Jello for supper.   Believe me, there's not always room for Jello.  But now my choice of 'full fluids' are either Jello or a Milkshake.   But it can't be anything other than vanilla, no fruit, no red, no blue, no red+blue=purple.  Chocolate is right out too I think.  Saturday is when my food volume drops, when my energy level drops.  Gives me a good excuse to not do much ("Sorry, can't do housework, saving my strength to eat Jello tonight..")  Actually keeping busy is a great way to not think about food.  I wasn't starving, I felt reasonably full, and I was occupied doing whatever hobby-type activity I enjoyed (ok watching TV..).   Halfway through the 'prep weekend' and I was cruising. Tomorrow would see the start of the formal preparation process however.

     Sunday  is the 'clear liquid diet' portion of the three-day preparation.  It consists of having Jello and coffee for breakfast.  Sometime just before noon I had some weak watery chicken broth.  I was drinking water as well.  At noon I began the consumption of the prep solution itself, a fairly innocuously named drink called Colyte.   Four litres of this drink is consumed over the next 4 - 6 hours, and will produce the desired effect.  As I have undergone this particular process three times now I have some insights to consider for future sessions:

    1.  keep drinking water, even though drinking this stuff makes you feel full

    2.  Colyte supposedly has a mild, fruity flavour.   If I knew what kind of tree bore this fruit I would set fire to the whole orchard.   I found that after I drank a glass of the prep solution, a sip of black coffee helped counteract the aftertaste of the Colyte.

    3.  If you carefully follow the instructions on the label, you will be drinking one glass every 20 minutes.  You will be incredibly bloated long before relief is felt.  You may be nauseaus, so just stop and literally 'catch your breath'.  You start at noon, you can drink it all night and be OK for the next morning.

   4.  Don't stray far from the bathroom, unless you have plans to practice sprinting all day long.

   By six pm I had finished the 4L jug.  Most of me was empty long before 10pm, but as the weatherman says, "occasional isolated storms"  are inevitable.   I had not drank anything other than my coffee, water and the Colyte since noon.  I was cold and tired.  I was really cold actually, and that was the worst feeling;  surprisingly I wasn't hungry.  My weight Monday morning was 174.2 lbs.  I had lost some 5 pounds since Saturday.  I went to bed around midnight, but sleep was not a comfort.  I was awake hours before the alarm went off at 630 that Monday morning.

     Snow and cold  greeted me as I left my house the day of my Colonoscopy.  The damp chill air robbed my tired body of strength.  Wearing a winter jacket, wearing gloves, wearing a fleece sweater and the car heater cranked up brought no relief, I was miserably cold on that ride to yet another hospital.  This time I went to a smaller facility in the county.  What it lacked in size it more than made up for in friendliness and professionalism.  In a short time I was once again receiving instructions on what clothing to remove, how to tie up my hospital-issued gown.  I was permitted to wear my socks, my cold feet more than just a metaphor.  Up until now everything was routine; veteran that I was there was nothing new for me to experience.  Until the nurse asked me to roll over on my side.

     Now I had expected to receive the IV  that would be used to administer the drugs that would deliver me to the realm of Morpheus, so this request to roll onto my left side was a novelty.   Here's where my previous Colonoscopy procedure diverged:  the purpose of me rolling onto my side was to facilitate "The Enema".  Oh my gosh I'm wide awake and Very Aware Of Something Cold being firmly inserted into No Man's land.   OK, to be honest it was weird and mildly uncomfortable, but as always, I survived.   Further surprises awaited however, as the enema took effect and caused me to dash towards the nearest washroom.  I think I know how the phrase 'Greased Lightning' came into existence.  Fortunately my earlier prep had pretty much cleaned me out and I didn't need to ask for additional reading material to pass the time...

     Back once more in bed and I was now deemed "really really cleaned out".  Now comes the IV insertion.  In the past this has been the most uncomfortable part of the procedure (I'm a wimp).  This time my dehydrated, cold state proved to be a challenge.  First one hand was tried.  Then another.  Then the first again.  I have pretty good veins for such things usually, but they were not cooperating.   I do not know why, but I suddenly felt flushed and light-headed.  I began to think that if my procedure started this way, what other terrible things could happen.  Had I been standing I would have fainted.   Seeing my distress the nurses used warm blankets to comfort me.  One blanket was wrapped around my arm, ostensibly to make the IV insertion easier. The lights over my bed were dimmed, and I closed my eyes and rested.   A few minutes later my nurse was able to insert the IV, the warm blanket had helped I guess.   My panic attack was over.   I rested as fluid was put through my newly-inserted IV to rehydrate me.  My bed was moved to the staging area for my procedure, I had now been in the hospital for a little over two hours, most of that time trying not to think of what was coming next.  I was wheeled into the procedure room, and greeted by my doctor and the anaesthesiologist.  My IV was hooked up and  the nice anaesthesioligist   went over my list of allergies (just seasonal, no latex, no hypothermia issues, I'm pretty easy to sedate apparently).  She mentioned I would drift in and out... I drifted out...and when I drifted back in I was back in the recovery room.  The procedure had lasted some twenty minutes, but it was an hour before I was once again cognizant of reality.  It would be another hour of light rest and the removal of the IV before a very tired and very relieved Terry would head home.  My Colonoscopy procedure found no problems.  One weekend of my time, some fasting, a little prep and a small procedure were all I needed to allay the fears that my condition had worsened.

     The rest of my day was spent not eating as one might suppose, but resting.  I would not have anything more substantial than soup later that evening (another piece of advice: don't go on an eating binge at first...it took you a couple of days to taper down, take some time to resume your normal diet).   Oh, and you'll be full of air from the procedure, so you'll feel somewhat bloated...

     At the end of the day I was happy with my results, how could I not?  I was worried that there would be new signs of cancer, that my disease had returned.  Perhaps it may  one day, but today was not that day.   I can live my life again, as always, one day at a time.

Heigh-Ho, Heigh-Ho ....

     Two weeks ago I took the first step in resuming my former life by returning to work.   On March 31st 2010, I was diagnosed with Cancer.   On March 21st 2011 I was once more seated at my desk.   There were no epiphanies, no cosmic revelations, just another day, the way life is mostly.   In honour of my return there were several boxes of sugar-and-doughy goodness (thanks Doug!); as well a friend had brought home-made cupcakes (thanks Pam!).   That was the good part.  The bad part was I couldn't eat any of it!  I had resolved to stop eating sugary desserts and snacks (cookies, doughnuts, cupcakes, cakes, pies, danishes, ice cream...sigh)  It seemed like such a good idea after Shrove Tuesday, aka Panzki Day.   I want to keep my weight around the 180lb level.  Indeed after a few days the cravings for sweets was gone, just need to break the late-night snacking habit.

   Mundane minutia of my noshing endeavours aside, my first day back at work  was not too stressful.  I managed to successfully change my email Out-Of-Office notification (at one point I had it set so I would return in the year 2104...).  I even remembered most of my passwords, no small feat when you consider that I have a LOT of passwords working as an IT System Administrator.  With all that frenetic activity you would think a nap would be required when I got home.  It was, and I did.  Well tomorrow I could sleep in.  Small luxuries should not be ignored, else they lose their wonder and enjoyment.

     In the weeks since my treatment ended, I wondered how I would fare when I returned to the workplace.  I was cautioned to watch my stress level, make sure that I did not overdo things.   My abridged  schedule saw me at work  three days a week:  Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.   I get to sleep in the other two days.  Only  no one told me of the nasty little drawback of this plan:  By being off every alternate day, my resumption of work always feels like a Monday.  Too cruel, having three Monday mornings a week!

   Work is 'the same but different'.  My coworkers are happy to see me, and while I am pleased at what my returning signifies, I feel daunted by the challenge of all that awaits me.  The brain is foggy, and I am dismayed at the loss of knowledge I once had.   There is the feeling that I am starting over, and in a sense I am in  a new job.  The so-called "new normal" was once more in effect; having to change the familiarity of one pattern of living with another.

     I guess one thing I learned from my ordeal is that beating Cancer is not the defining moment of my life.  I can look back at what I have accomplished with some pride and a feeling of smug satisfaction; I did good, but if I look forward, I can do better.

  Finally my involvement with the medical community will go on for some time.   There will be blood tests every three months for three years.  I still have my Port inside me, so there's the monthly Port Flush to look forward to.  And  in two weeks I am  looking forward to my next colonscopy!   Well not really, but this time I am not afraid, and living life without fear is not a bad thing.