Sunday, April 20, 2008

The Cup of Salvation

I guess the colonoscopy preparation drink really was the cup of salvation for me last year. It was around this time in 2007 that I had my first colonoscopy and discovered I had cancer. But now I'm all better. They're going to look inside my colon Monday to be sure. I'm pretty hungry right now and my test isn't until 11:30 a.m. I'm going to go and have some chicken granules. Yum.

Monday, April 7, 2008

I got my port out today

Here's the hole it came out of, and here's the port. I asked them if I could bring it home, and they said yes! I'm a little sore. I didn't go under sedation because I really hate that. I usually come out of it hurling, so if I can avoid it, I do.

After I got the port out (about 10:15; I got there at 7 a.m.), Bob and I went to Alexander's where I slugged down three cups of coffee (I would have had more if they would have come by and offered) and ham, hashbrowns and poached eggs.

Then I came home and felt a little sleepy, so I went to bed at about 11:30 and didn't wake up until 1:30. So I guess I was sleepy.

Today is Becky's birthday. Happy birthday to her! And happy port out day to me!
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Wednesday, April 2, 2008

The sun is out in Chicago today

I walked into the clinic for my doctor's appointment today--the same clinic where I went to get my chemo treatments every two weeks--and had quite an emotional experience. It rushed upon me as soon as I walked through the automatic doors; this is where I spent some very unpleasant Fridays. But it was more than that; it was also that I seemed to have beaten the cancer, and that I was walking through the halls like a survivor. I wouldn't have to go again to that place for chemo treatments. Stooped, bald-headed people were going to appointments, their green-pale faces held the tell-tale signs of chemotherapy. I, too, had that green color once. But friends and family had the grace not to tell me about it until my cheeks turned a normal hue again. Until I again had the body of a plump medieval nymph.

Today the doctor said: You did good. I answered, You did good too. I told him I planned to live to age 86. He chuckled and asked why not longer. That seems long enough, I answered. You know, if you live to be 100, you get a card from the president, he said. Well, I wouldn't want to live until 100 just for that. What if I wouldn't want a card from the president in office. Everybody nodded.

While I waited to get my next appointments--my port removed, my colonoscopy--I saw a daughter walk out of an office where her mother was in with my doctor. She was crying, so I knew the news they got wasn't as good as what I heard.

I asked him about my curls. How did this happen, I didn't lose my hair. Some people get curly hair, he said. But mine didn't fall out, I said. He shrugged. The nurse said later that hers started getting curly with age. And she's about 15 years younger than I am.

So the plan is: colonoscopy within a year of my surgery, which is now. Port removed! Symbolic to me, like the clanging of the bell at the end of a boxing match. The referee has counted to 10 and it's my hand he's holding up. Visits to the doctor every four months for blood work and check ups. CT scan every six to eight months.

I do feel great. I'm a little hungry.