My Story

The pieces of a puzzle came together for me late in the month of October 2008 as I sat in the Queensway Carleton Hospital, still drugged from a just finished colonoscopy.  Two years of strange aches and pains, unexplained symptoms and inconclusive lab tests were finally diagnosed. I wasn’t a hypochondriac after all. My mystery ailment now had a name.  A word no one wants to hear from their doctor; ‘cancer’.

A whirlwind of activities soon followed. Within days I was booked for a CT scan and appointment with a surgeon who, again,  within days performed a sphigmoidoscopy to double check the location, size and I guess resectability of the tumour which by that time I knew to be located in the sigmo-rectal area.  Surgery was booked for the following week.  There were so many things to be scared of.  What if I didn’t make it through surgery? What if the surgeon found more tumours? What if I needed a colostomy? So many questions went through my mind at that time; questions that had no immediate answers. Even though I had the support of my entire family, I never felt so alone and scared as I did on that surgery day. It was only then, as I was being wheeled in to the O.R. that my surgeon informed me that the CT scans seemed clear of additional tumours.

Thanks to my wonderful surgeon, the surgery was uneventful.  While he warned me beforehand that I might end up with a temporary colostomy, a quick abdominal check proved that he was able to do the resection without the need for one. In addition, my scars were minimal, none of them visible in a bikini. My hospital stay was textbook, I weaned off the morphine very quickly (it made me nauseous!), I was walking every day, and even had solid food on my last day! My only scare occurred when blood tests showed dangerously low haemoglobin. I came very close to needing a transfusion, but in the end my body came through and my haemoglobin came back up on its own.

After the normal surgery recuperation period of about 8 weeks, I was referred to the Cancer Centre (General Hospital) for follow-up treatment.  Due to extensive lymph node involvement, adjuvant chemotherapy was recommended. Another whirlwind of activities ensued; appointments with oncologists, follow-up CT scans, MRI scans, chemo ‘training’ and PICC line insertion.  I was inundated with information from the hospital, the Canadian Cancer Society and from “Dr. Google”. I was determined but I was also very scared. I will never forget my first day at the infusion centre.  I felt like I was on death row. Seeing so many other very sick people all in the same room did not help. 

My biggest fear then, as it is now, is that the cancer will return. Unfortunately, too many cancer patients experience a recurrence. While I feel extremely fortunate to be alive and healthy two years later, I am also scared. Colorectal Cancer is a relentless, unpredictable disease.  It doesn’t follow rules and doesn’t care how healthy you are. With each passing day, I strive to live my life as fully as possible and not dwell on statistics. As other cancer survivors can attest, life is never the same again. While we live under the constant fear of the ‘other shoe falling’, we also feel as if we’ve been given a second chance at life. I know for myself, I have re-prioritized what is important to me and I don’t sweat the small stuff. I have re-learned to enjoy the small things: coffee in bed, a beautiful sunset, dinner with good friends, sharing a funny joke.  Every day I am alive is a gift.