The first day of the rest of my life…
Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Well, actually everyday is the first day of the rest of my life, but today, well today was the first day of the rest of my life as a cancer patient. No longer will I go infrequently to the doctor or not for a while anyway. No longer will I whiz through a patient history form with hardly anything to check. No longer will I simply have a test done and not anxiously await the report. No longer will I view everyday life in the same way I have before.
Today marks the day that I was diagnosed with colon cancer. I had some ongoing problems that caused me to have to have a colonoscopy. Not the most pleasant experience I’ve ever had, but bearable nonetheless. The nurse tells you that due to the narcotics they give you, you will not remember anything the doctor tells you. Therefore, you have to have someone with you to let you know what the doctor says and to drive you home after the procedure. Well, apparently adrenaline plus high blood pressure somehow completely gets rid of the narcotics in one’s system because, unfortunately, I remember every word the doctor said to us. He pulled the curtain back slightly and walked in saying, “It’s not good.” I still remember him being a little foggy to me as he came over to the side of my bed. He leaned down and rested his arms on the metal rails and said, “I removed some polyps and she has a lesion that is cancer.” He was talking to mom assuming that I was still so “out of it” that I wouldn’t know what he was saying. My mom asked him if there was anyway that it could be something else. He said, “Honey, I’ve been doing this for a long time and I’m telling you, she has colon cancer.” I remember tears simultaneously rolling down my mom’s and my cheeks. My blood pressure went up to 165/104, but I remember feeling a sort of numbness. He explained that he doesn’t beat around the bush and is straight forward with his patients. I, for one, appreciate that. He was caring, but yet let us know immediately what was going on so I would know what to expect. He then began to explain the next few steps…bloodwork, x-rays, CT scans, and a visit to a surgeon. He asked us if we had a surgeon we preferred and we told him our preference. Then he patted my shoulder and said, “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry.” Such simple words that often break the silence of difficult emotional situations. They fill the space when there is really nothing else to say. The nurses came in and hugged me and said, “I’m sorry.” As I left, there were three of them lined up saying that they would be praying for me. For a moment I thought, “Do I need to go ahead and pick out songs and call the pastor?” By the time we got over to the office to do bloodwork, the nurses there knew too. And you know what they said….”I’m sorry.” Each “I’m sorry” that I have heard has been so heartfelt and has touched me so deeply that my words are inadequate to express. It’s not like the “I’m sorry’s” the kids say to one another after having a fight. You know the ones prompted by, “What do you say to your brother? Or, what do you say to your sister?” These words come from deep within and I can tell that people mean them.
The nurses also said that they would be praying for me. And they have. One nurse even called the next day to check on me and to tell me that she had prayed for me that morning. All this and they don’t even know me.
Then began the phone calls to drop the bomb on unsuspecting family and friends. I had to call my husband and tell him over the phone. What a way to blind side someone! I really think that this experience is a little harder right now on my friends and family. (I’ll claim the difficult part when surgery comes!) Word began to get out and people began responding. I have been completely overwhelmed by the number of people who have contacted us and the number of people who are praying. I have not felt the Lord’s presence so closely and completely in a VERY long time. I hope that my simple “thank you” can convey as deep of an emotion and mean as much as an “I’m sorry” or “I’m praying” has meant to me.