Wed May 6th, 2015, and I'm sitting in the exam room at the Cancer Centre, waiting for my oncologist once again. It's a routine experience, but there's been an underlying disquiet during my recent visits that something was not right. My most recent CT scan was three weeks prior, and I had blood work earlier this morning. My doctor has arrived, and after the preliminaries, the news I didn't think I would hear for some time has rendered me shocked and helpless once more.
Shadows in my lung are indeed cancer. Cancer that has grown since January to the point where it is not considered viable for surgery. The emphasis, gently expressed by my oncologist, is that chemo is not a cure. I am stunned, unable to think coherently. For all my years as partner in this deadly dance with cancer, I have never stumbled. Now the balance has shifted, and I am being inexorably pulled into the vortex where my only options are to hang on for the ride, as I don't think I'll escape.
As it happened to me over five years ago, I'm only dimly hearing my doctor telling me about my treatment options. I can feel the sadness well up, my throat cracking as I ask questions I forget, then hearing answers I can't remember. I have another appointment card being handed to me, the session is over. On autopilot alone I keep my composure. We leave the cancer center, but stop at a nearby park. Tears are the only way I know how to express myself. When I return to work, the conversation with my manager an echo of the one five years prior.
The toughest conversation is at home later that night, when I call my sister. It breaks my heart to hear her voice, full of shock and anger at what I will be going through yet again. I have no answer for her why this keeps happening to me. That night, exhausted, I'm in bed by 10:30pm, but sleep is filled with tears and despair. I awake at 5:00am, for I still have another test: a Bone Scan for my shin.
I've done two bone scans already in my life, and they've shown that I'm shot through with arthritis. This one is to find out why my shin is in so much pain. The doctors and physiotherapist agree it's not a shin split. The chronic pain of the past few months has abated however, and I'm walking much better. I wonder if I've been walking on a fractured bone all this time.
The technician reviews my medical history, and I matter-of-factly mention the latest findings of cancer in my lungs. It seems so surreal now, lying on this platform, hands and feet strapped in so you don't move during the procedure. The scan is in multiple parts, and I receive a mild radioactive injection. For the bulk of the test I am required to lie on my back, motionless, for the better part of an hour. Curiously I feel relaxed, and if I didn't fall into a deep sleep, I felt..better.
After the scan I'm taken for more X-rays of my shin. By noon I'm done and the rest of the day is mine, as I have no desire to return to work. Still dealing with the aftermath of yesterday, I resolve to contact the cancer clinic to meet with the oncologist again: I need hard answers, and this time I'm ready to hear them.
Saturday, May 9, 2015
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Another day, another Colonoscopy
I've had the distinct pleasure of undergoing the Colonoscopy process four times in my life. Three of those times showed Cancer. It's been a year since my last surgery, time for a follow-up colonoscopy. Of course that can only mean one thing: The Prep.
Four previous colonscopies and two surgeries have removed any mystery or fears around the preparation process. The process itself is simple, as I follow the reduced-intake diet. This means soft foods three days before the procedure, full fluids two days before, and on the prep day itself, only clear liquids. As a result, I know I will be cold and tired and yes, at times, hungry. But these feelings only last for a little while. I'm weary of continually doing this process, but will keep doing it again as often as needed. Because it's absolutely necessary.
My procedure is scheduled for a Tuesday morning at 9:30AM. This is good, as I much prefer early morning than later afternoon. Early morning procedures mean the prep is essentially one day. My process however begins three days before, on the Saturday: Soft Food Day. On SFD I have scrambled eggs for breakfast (and sneak in a pancake). Supper is more scrambled eggs, and instant mashed potatoes. Cutting out fibre seems counter-intuitive, but the process works. Saturday was fine, save for the ongoing shin pain in my left leg. I can't have any aspirin or anything that would affect the prep or might be a bleeding risk, so I endure the throbbing. The most uncomfortable feeling during this latest procedure would be the shin pain; it made sleep difficult and walking painful. In a few weeks I would be limping whenever I walked, but for now, I just endured it and proceeded with the task at hand: not eating.
Sunday I'm on full fluids. This is actually the worst day in terms of hunger and eating, as there is a sharp decrease in my calorie intake, mostly because I'm eating plain vanilla Greek yogurt, milk, and cream soups (without crackers!). I don't particularly like creams soups for a couple of reasons. One, they're creamy, and just don't have the flavour and texture I enjoy. The other is that they are not pure cream soups: they have bits and pieces floating in them which must be removed. Suffice to say that I don't eat a lot of cream soups. I drink a lot of water, some ginger ale and green tea. I ignore any feelings of hunger, which do go away fairly quickly. I spend my evening watching a lot of TV and puttering around the house. Before I go to bed, I make Jello -green and yellow only, no red allowed!
I book Monday off of work, as this is prep day. It allows me to sleep in, and only do what I will need to do. So of course I can't sleep in. Instead, I decide to do yard work. I haven't done anything all Spring (not that we had much of a Spring so far), so naturally I spend the entire morning raking leaves and picking up sticks. In a little over an hour I'm exhausted. Moving inside the house I figure that a good sunny day requires a good sunny day activity: cleaning windows. That goes well but I'm feeling pretty weak and tired after this much manual labour. Physical work without nutrition is probably one of my sillier endeavors. However as I don't actually begin the prep until 3:00PM, I can't just sit around doing nothing or watch TV. Not yet at any rate.. I'm not hungry, at least for the choices offered: Broth, tea or coffee, and of course, Jello. Now I liked Jello as a kid. As an adult I'd make it on hot summer days and throw in a glob (or two, or three... ) of Ice Cream. After multiple go-rounds with the preparation process and hospital stays, I can honestly say that Jello is now firmly associated with some of the most unpleasant experiences in my life. Suffice to say, I only eat Jello when I'm undergoing the Prep. And this morning, I really don't feel like eating Jello for breakfast.
I drink a lot of water and green tea. I suck on hard candies (only green or yellow) for flavour. I tell myself that fasting is good for the soul (and waistline). The hard candies I am trying this time don't mix well with the green tea, and I find my palette has produced that annoying dry-mouth feeling that no amount of brushing seems to cleanse. A Halls cough-drop however has enough punch to remove the dry, slightly metallic after taste. But mostly my shin bothered me and I was uncomfortable sitting. Or standing. Or lying down to nap. My less-that-smart-choice this morning of doing yard work had aggravated my shin. I couldn't nap, and time passed slowly. Finally 3:00PM arrived, and I could finally start the preparation proper.
This preparation is called Purg Odan and it comes as three small packets that, when mixed with water, form the basis of the process. Every four hours I need to mix and drink one of these packets. They don't taste great, but they're not the worst thing I've ever consumed. During the process I drink lots of water. And ginger ale. And tea or coffee (I tried coffee again -instant though, and couldn't stand it. My taste buds are shot it seems) Also strongly recommended is to drink Gatorade to maintain electrolytes. The purge processes suck the liquid out of you and wash away electrolytes as well. The Gatorade I have is lemony-yellow. I would sip from it but found it difficult to drink. I found I had little desire to consume things other than water or the occasional green tea this time. I was tired and little energy to focus on highly technical activities, like changing the channel on the TV. And I still was bothered by my shin splints.
Within a few hours of taking the first packet ("sachet" is what the official packaging labels each packet) I was on my way to purge nirvana. At 7:00PM and 11:00PM I repeated the process. Having used other means to accomplish this task, I can say that the Purg Odan was no worse. In some ways it was better as I didn't feel so bloated after drinking 4 liters of the other stuff. But the end results were the same: drink some stuff, go the bathroom. Repeat.
Throughout the night the frequency and duration of the trips to the bathroom decreased. Yet it wasn't until 3:30AM when my bowels called a truce. I could finally sleep uninterrupted for a few hours.
Tuesday morning and I awoke early, and thirsty. I wouldn't be able to drink anything two hours before the exam. Which in my case meant by 7:30AM I was finished with consuming any fluids. A good thing, as any liquid taken in wants to go out by any available means it seems. At this point I'm essentially as cleaned out as I can be, and my weight is about 186lbs. I've lost about 7 pounds since the weekend. I'm tired and I'm cold, and I just want it be over. The time finally comes when I need to go to the clinic to have the last step performed.
My doctor's clinic has a remarkably large, very well lit, clean and modern looking waiting room. En suite bathrooms are there for those last minute emergencies. I arrived as instructed, 1/2 hour before my appointment time of 9:30. The registration is perfunctory, and my waiting time is minimal. I'm soon asked to go into the exam room. I'm on autopilot now, the familiar process plays out as it has so many times before: change into the standard johnny shirt, but you get to keep your socks on. "ProTip" -I wore my thickest warmest socks, as the single sheet you are given to cover you won't be warm enough. Everything is proceeding as it should, but my nurse informs me that there's a delay. However I'm still prepped with the IV, the only painful part of this whole process is the IV needle into my hand. My vitals are recorded, and once that's done I can rest. I'm somewhat tired but can't sleep. I'm surprisingly not thirsty or hungry. My shin pain is bothering me more than anything else. Time drags by and I realize I left my Samsung Galaxy player in the bag with all my clothes, so I can't even read or play a bad game of chess. Ten Thirty, I've been in this room for over an hour. Ten Fourty and it's now my turn. My bed and I are brought into the surgical suite. More waiting, then the anasthesiologist arrives. Some questions are asked: No I'm not a smoker - No allergies that I'm aware of save seasonal. I'm wired up to the various machines that record my vitals, then I'm left alone for a bit. During this time I play a game where I try to slow my breathing down to trigger the alarms on the machine that monitors my respiratory rates. I'm rewarded by little beeps as I get below 74, but only momentarily. It gives me something to do. At last my doctor arrives, now the real fun begins.
At this point my memory doesn't get hazy, it simply fails. There is no recollection what happened next. One minute I'm being asked to roll on my side, and then...nothing. My next conscious thought is the realization that I'm back in the first exam room. I have absolutely no idea what time it is. My nurse arrives and seeing that I'm awake, asks that all-important question: "Have you passed gas yet?". I answer in the affirmative. Without this vital action, I would not be allowed to go home. But the good news doesn't end there: my Colonscopy was clean! I had no issues with the previous surgical areas nor were there any polyps or concerns. What this meant to me is that I don't have to have another procedure for three more years!
I'm relieved and perhaps due to the medication I've received during my procedure, my shin isn't bothering me. It's noon on a sunny Tuesday, and I have a healthy colon. Life is balanced once more, time to celebrate. A small meal at a tiny restaurant just down the street from my doctor's office marks the extent of my celebration. I've learned the hard way not to indulge too much too fast after one of these procedures. However in a few days I'd be eating normally, with no adverse affects.
For the remainder of the day I simply rested, with numerous peaceful small naps. I didn't eat unless I felt hungry, and I only ate a little at at time. I drank more water, (but still couldn't finish the Gatorade). This time fortune had smiled upon me, and life is good. In three more years, we'll see if fortune begrudges me another pass to clean health.
Four previous colonscopies and two surgeries have removed any mystery or fears around the preparation process. The process itself is simple, as I follow the reduced-intake diet. This means soft foods three days before the procedure, full fluids two days before, and on the prep day itself, only clear liquids. As a result, I know I will be cold and tired and yes, at times, hungry. But these feelings only last for a little while. I'm weary of continually doing this process, but will keep doing it again as often as needed. Because it's absolutely necessary.
My procedure is scheduled for a Tuesday morning at 9:30AM. This is good, as I much prefer early morning than later afternoon. Early morning procedures mean the prep is essentially one day. My process however begins three days before, on the Saturday: Soft Food Day. On SFD I have scrambled eggs for breakfast (and sneak in a pancake). Supper is more scrambled eggs, and instant mashed potatoes. Cutting out fibre seems counter-intuitive, but the process works. Saturday was fine, save for the ongoing shin pain in my left leg. I can't have any aspirin or anything that would affect the prep or might be a bleeding risk, so I endure the throbbing. The most uncomfortable feeling during this latest procedure would be the shin pain; it made sleep difficult and walking painful. In a few weeks I would be limping whenever I walked, but for now, I just endured it and proceeded with the task at hand: not eating.
Sunday I'm on full fluids. This is actually the worst day in terms of hunger and eating, as there is a sharp decrease in my calorie intake, mostly because I'm eating plain vanilla Greek yogurt, milk, and cream soups (without crackers!). I don't particularly like creams soups for a couple of reasons. One, they're creamy, and just don't have the flavour and texture I enjoy. The other is that they are not pure cream soups: they have bits and pieces floating in them which must be removed. Suffice to say that I don't eat a lot of cream soups. I drink a lot of water, some ginger ale and green tea. I ignore any feelings of hunger, which do go away fairly quickly. I spend my evening watching a lot of TV and puttering around the house. Before I go to bed, I make Jello -green and yellow only, no red allowed!
I book Monday off of work, as this is prep day. It allows me to sleep in, and only do what I will need to do. So of course I can't sleep in. Instead, I decide to do yard work. I haven't done anything all Spring (not that we had much of a Spring so far), so naturally I spend the entire morning raking leaves and picking up sticks. In a little over an hour I'm exhausted. Moving inside the house I figure that a good sunny day requires a good sunny day activity: cleaning windows. That goes well but I'm feeling pretty weak and tired after this much manual labour. Physical work without nutrition is probably one of my sillier endeavors. However as I don't actually begin the prep until 3:00PM, I can't just sit around doing nothing or watch TV. Not yet at any rate.. I'm not hungry, at least for the choices offered: Broth, tea or coffee, and of course, Jello. Now I liked Jello as a kid. As an adult I'd make it on hot summer days and throw in a glob (or two, or three... ) of Ice Cream. After multiple go-rounds with the preparation process and hospital stays, I can honestly say that Jello is now firmly associated with some of the most unpleasant experiences in my life. Suffice to say, I only eat Jello when I'm undergoing the Prep. And this morning, I really don't feel like eating Jello for breakfast.
I drink a lot of water and green tea. I suck on hard candies (only green or yellow) for flavour. I tell myself that fasting is good for the soul (and waistline). The hard candies I am trying this time don't mix well with the green tea, and I find my palette has produced that annoying dry-mouth feeling that no amount of brushing seems to cleanse. A Halls cough-drop however has enough punch to remove the dry, slightly metallic after taste. But mostly my shin bothered me and I was uncomfortable sitting. Or standing. Or lying down to nap. My less-that-smart-choice this morning of doing yard work had aggravated my shin. I couldn't nap, and time passed slowly. Finally 3:00PM arrived, and I could finally start the preparation proper.
This preparation is called Purg Odan and it comes as three small packets that, when mixed with water, form the basis of the process. Every four hours I need to mix and drink one of these packets. They don't taste great, but they're not the worst thing I've ever consumed. During the process I drink lots of water. And ginger ale. And tea or coffee (I tried coffee again -instant though, and couldn't stand it. My taste buds are shot it seems) Also strongly recommended is to drink Gatorade to maintain electrolytes. The purge processes suck the liquid out of you and wash away electrolytes as well. The Gatorade I have is lemony-yellow. I would sip from it but found it difficult to drink. I found I had little desire to consume things other than water or the occasional green tea this time. I was tired and little energy to focus on highly technical activities, like changing the channel on the TV. And I still was bothered by my shin splints.
Within a few hours of taking the first packet ("sachet" is what the official packaging labels each packet) I was on my way to purge nirvana. At 7:00PM and 11:00PM I repeated the process. Having used other means to accomplish this task, I can say that the Purg Odan was no worse. In some ways it was better as I didn't feel so bloated after drinking 4 liters of the other stuff. But the end results were the same: drink some stuff, go the bathroom. Repeat.
Throughout the night the frequency and duration of the trips to the bathroom decreased. Yet it wasn't until 3:30AM when my bowels called a truce. I could finally sleep uninterrupted for a few hours.
Tuesday morning and I awoke early, and thirsty. I wouldn't be able to drink anything two hours before the exam. Which in my case meant by 7:30AM I was finished with consuming any fluids. A good thing, as any liquid taken in wants to go out by any available means it seems. At this point I'm essentially as cleaned out as I can be, and my weight is about 186lbs. I've lost about 7 pounds since the weekend. I'm tired and I'm cold, and I just want it be over. The time finally comes when I need to go to the clinic to have the last step performed.
My doctor's clinic has a remarkably large, very well lit, clean and modern looking waiting room. En suite bathrooms are there for those last minute emergencies. I arrived as instructed, 1/2 hour before my appointment time of 9:30. The registration is perfunctory, and my waiting time is minimal. I'm soon asked to go into the exam room. I'm on autopilot now, the familiar process plays out as it has so many times before: change into the standard johnny shirt, but you get to keep your socks on. "ProTip" -I wore my thickest warmest socks, as the single sheet you are given to cover you won't be warm enough. Everything is proceeding as it should, but my nurse informs me that there's a delay. However I'm still prepped with the IV, the only painful part of this whole process is the IV needle into my hand. My vitals are recorded, and once that's done I can rest. I'm somewhat tired but can't sleep. I'm surprisingly not thirsty or hungry. My shin pain is bothering me more than anything else. Time drags by and I realize I left my Samsung Galaxy player in the bag with all my clothes, so I can't even read or play a bad game of chess. Ten Thirty, I've been in this room for over an hour. Ten Fourty and it's now my turn. My bed and I are brought into the surgical suite. More waiting, then the anasthesiologist arrives. Some questions are asked: No I'm not a smoker - No allergies that I'm aware of save seasonal. I'm wired up to the various machines that record my vitals, then I'm left alone for a bit. During this time I play a game where I try to slow my breathing down to trigger the alarms on the machine that monitors my respiratory rates. I'm rewarded by little beeps as I get below 74, but only momentarily. It gives me something to do. At last my doctor arrives, now the real fun begins.
At this point my memory doesn't get hazy, it simply fails. There is no recollection what happened next. One minute I'm being asked to roll on my side, and then...nothing. My next conscious thought is the realization that I'm back in the first exam room. I have absolutely no idea what time it is. My nurse arrives and seeing that I'm awake, asks that all-important question: "Have you passed gas yet?". I answer in the affirmative. Without this vital action, I would not be allowed to go home. But the good news doesn't end there: my Colonscopy was clean! I had no issues with the previous surgical areas nor were there any polyps or concerns. What this meant to me is that I don't have to have another procedure for three more years!
I'm relieved and perhaps due to the medication I've received during my procedure, my shin isn't bothering me. It's noon on a sunny Tuesday, and I have a healthy colon. Life is balanced once more, time to celebrate. A small meal at a tiny restaurant just down the street from my doctor's office marks the extent of my celebration. I've learned the hard way not to indulge too much too fast after one of these procedures. However in a few days I'd be eating normally, with no adverse affects.
For the remainder of the day I simply rested, with numerous peaceful small naps. I didn't eat unless I felt hungry, and I only ate a little at at time. I drank more water, (but still couldn't finish the Gatorade). This time fortune had smiled upon me, and life is good. In three more years, we'll see if fortune begrudges me another pass to clean health.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)