Hello, friends!

All is well-ish here, and days are generally the same as the previous. I keep myself entertained-but-resting.

There is indeed healing progress, and it is indeed slow. I like to say I get a half-inch better each day, but I have six more feet to go.

I took my first drive today! One month anniversary of coming home? I think? I had a few prescriptions to pick up, and it’s a short distance on smooth (for Westchester) roads, so the pharmacy seemed like a good trial run.

It was fine. Just about what I expected. It hurt, but not disturbingly so. I don’t remember the drive completely unpleasantly, so we’ll call it a success. It made me feel good about returning to work in September.

Next week I’m back to no-restrictions food. I can now stand up without completely using my arms. I’m newly able to roll over to my other side without wincing or yelling, so again … progress!

If You’re Squeamish, Stop Here

I know it’s probably hard to comprehend the surgeries. I’m purposely vague about them at best. However. In the following, I am going to be much more specific. I think it’s worth talking about, because there’s a serious lesson to be learned.

Funny how they don’t tell you until afterwards, right? The lead doctor explained afterwards that it was a long, very “rough” operation. Open surgery (not laparoscopic), two different entry sites, three or four procedures involving three surgeons with different specialties.

My colon and part of my large intestine were removed, and the tumor was removed with them. Stents were put in tubes (and later taken out) to protect particular valves and stuff, and in other cases, bits and bobs were just removed altogether. Things were rearranged, reattached in different places, lots of internal muscle was gone through back and front, and then sutured back together. Staples in front came out a week after surgery, and I still have stitches in the two different sites. A bit of tail bone was taken out to be double-checked with a biopsy.

This followed a year+ of a horrible syndrome (worse than the cancer, honestly) called LARS that I ended up with from the first surgery. It happens to many, but wasn’t mentioned very much beforehand. Maybe a few sentences during an early consultation. In the midst of it, two of the doctors said it was the worst case they had ever seen. I didn’t eat solid food for about a year.

So, knowing what I know now, I have something important to say.

I mention the surgeries (etc) in detail to push you — stay up on your tests. Get the colonoscopy. If you’re over 35, listen to that nice Katie Couric and get the colonoscopy. You’re asleep. You won’t even know it happened. If you’re adverse to having something stuck up your butt while you are under sedation, keep in mind — you’re gonna have more things than you know what to do with stuck up your butt if you get sick.

Get the test. This cancer is trending younger and younger. I’m regularly seeing people in their thirties in my surgeon’s waiting room. Regularly.