When we finally got a facebook, I stumbled upon the Colon Cancer Awareness group/page. I posted our story. I read other stories. And a few of us women grew really close. We call ourselves the CC Wives Club. We've all had our lives flipped upside down by colon cancer. We all know the side effects of the chemo. Of the surgery. And we all know how we felt on the day that we were told our husbands had colon cancer.
You've all read my story. My side. My memories.
Well... Today's post involved one of the CC Wives... Kris. About her husband Mike. Read. Share. Be aware!
The day my husband was diagnosed with colon cancer will be
forever etched in my memory. It’s a time
I’d like to pretend never happened, but it did. I look back and find hidden
blessings in that diagnosis. I am sure you are wondering why I feel a cancer diagnosis
can bring blessings, but if you’ve ever walked in those shoes, I bet you’d
agree. A cancer diagnosis stirs a million emotions and feelings you never ever
dreamt you’d experience; often unpleasant and the hopes for the bad dream to
end and you wake to the normal life you once knew. Then, after some time, there
is a magical moment that occurs in your heart and soul when you stand back and
reflect on it all. You realize how precious each and every day in the world
is. We are never guaranteed a tomorrow,
but by living each day to its fullest and making memories that can be carried
on when we are gone, this is what life is truly about. I remember watching Mike
mow the lawn from the kitchen window and I’d cry my eyes out just watching him.
I wondered what he was thinking while he was out there. Was he afraid? Did he cry? I remember being so upset with him
for saying I should take all of his life insurance money and throw a huge party
celebrating his life when he was gone. I didn’t want a party or life insurance
money-damn it, I wanted him to be my husband forever in this world. There were many silent moments of arms
tightly wrapped around each other; no words needed to be said. There were moments when tears were shed
together, but his were for me and my feelings and never about his life possibly
ending. He had no fear of death and he felt confident that he didn’t need that
6 months of chemo that I made him do and his dr. said he didn’t need to. He did
that for me; I wanted him to survive. That shocking diagnosis brought us
together in a way that cannot be described. You look at each other differently.
Your love for one another is on a totally different level. The strength between
the two of you grows with every negative thing thrown at you and the bond cannot
be broken. Cancer does have a positive side and it certainly made that impact
on us.
Here’s my story! My husband had been having rectal bleeding off
and on for a few years. His doctor told him it was hemorrhoids without ever doing
an exam or other testing. Men are funny about that part of their body and don't
like to talk about it. After being together for 16 years we decided to finally
marry in June 2008. I told him since he was now my husband he was getting a
colonoscopy done whether or not he wanted it and sent him to my dr. who agreed.
His colonoscopy day happened to be scheduled the day before our daughter’s big
15th birthday party sleepover. I had a feeling deep in my gut that
something would be wrong. Once the colonoscopy was completed, I was called into
a consult room. The young doctor came in a few minutes later and it was quite obvious
that the news was not good. He was compassionate, touched my arm and told me it
was more complex than he anticipated and a mass was found along with two other
growths. I became extremely flushed, sweaty and felt as if my ears were
clogged. I was in a fog and felt as if I left my body. I did not shed a tear or
feel like I needed to, some sort of other power took over as I asked the doctor
what my husband’s prognosis was. In recovery, my still doped up husband had
grabbed the colonoscopy report by his bedside and asked me about the “malignant
mass.” I played dumb and brushed it off.
Luckily for me, he slept most of the day and evening. Later that night, I
remember going to the basement to call my mother and finally cried when I told
her the news. I went to the store and called his best friend’s wife and told
her the news. The tears for the next two days were short lasting. I had to pretend
everything was fine and prepare for that birthday party. A CT scan was ordered
5 days following the colonoscopy. Still at that point my husband had no clue
how serious the findings were. I take blame for that, until his biopsy and CT
scan results were in, I didn’t want to upset him until we knew exactly what we
were dealing with. Well, the
miscommunication between doctor’s offices put an end to that. The oncology office called with an appointment
before his gastro doctor had even seen him to go over the results. It was at that moment, that he began the
process of facing that damn “C” word. Tattooed on his wrist in Roman numerals
is the date October 17, 2008-the day he was diagnosed with colon cancer. The oncology and surgeon appointments were
three days later. The oncologist visit was promising and it appeared the cancer
had been caught early enough and no spread to other organs. There was no
mention of doing chemo, just surgery to remove the mass. At the surgeon’s
appointment our hopes and hearts sank. He was concerned as to why my husband,
at such a young age, had three growths in his colon. He recommended genetic testing and if it came
back positive he suggested removing the entire colon. He spent a great deal of
time discussing adapting to living without one; which scared the hell out of us.
One week later he was admitted into the hospital for what was to be a laparoscopic
transverse colectomy; it ended up being an abdominal wall incision from sternum
down below the belly button. 1/3 of his colon was removed, as well as his
appendix, which was a good thing. The
appendix had a carcinoid tumor in it.
His staging was 2a/b-due to only three lymph nodes removed they couldn’t
properly stage. He had complications and ended up spending ten days in the
hospital; including his 43rd birthday. My husband has a huge Batman
tattoo across the right side of his chest, his dr. refused to damage that and
put the port in on the opposite side. His port never worked for blood draws
which he hated. He was a trooper and handled his 6 months of chemotherapy
rather well. In fact, the first three months, he continued his strenuous P90X
program and arranged golf outings with friends around his ‘feel good’ times. He amazed his doctor, as his side effects
were few. He did suffer with low WBC from the start and I had to give him
injections of Neupogen. The after-effects of excruciating bone pain were tough.
His 5FU Cocktail (and you can guess what we say the FU stands for) caused neuropathy
in his fingers and hands. Towards the end, the dr. cut back his dosage in hopes
to save the use of his fingers for work and his passion, playing guitar. He had
his port removed a month after his last chemo treatment. He wanted the reminder of his cancer out of
his body.
All seemed to be going well, with the exception of an umbilical
hernia which developed from the original surgery. We had a huge scare in
August-September 2009 when a follow-up CT scan showed a spot on his liver and
shadowing on his omentum. Google is not your friend, trust me; the news was
bad. I had called my brother and he spoke with doctors at the hospital he
worked at. The prognosis was grim if the cancer had spread to his omentum. Scared
out of my mind, I prayed and tried to remain calm. I begged the Lord to please let him live until
our daughter graduated from high school. I would be lost without him, but would
be okay, but thought of how she would continue without her daddy was unbearable.
This moment was far worse than his initial diagnosis. I contacted my work to
get forms that would allow me to take leave to care for him. I considered
putting the house up for sale; it would be a financial burden on top of already
building medical expenses. A million things popped into my mind. His PET scan and omentum and liver biopsy
came back negative. He was then ready for his surgery to repair his incisional/umbilical
hernia from the colectomy. It turns out
his omentum was wrapped around his gallbladder which was removed. We suspect
that was the shadowing on the CT scan.
Follow-up CT scans and colonoscopies continue and as of this
date there is no evidence of disease. He says I saved his life, if I hadn’t
forced him to do the colonoscopy he never would have done it. I would hope that
if we were not together that someone else would have pushed like I did, because
if not he would not be here today.
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