#5 Jul

Two weeks have passed, and no dreaded phone call is received so things are looking pretty good.  I tell the kids that it looks like this was a false alarm and their mom is good to go. 

The next week I’m at home preparing dinner and the phone rings.  “Private Caller” is such an annoyance, but I answer it anyway.  It’s the doctor from my colonoscopy.  He has just gone on holiday but doesn’t want me to have to wait for weeks to get this information.  I think, “Great timing.  He’s telling me I’m all clear.  Nice”  NOT!

They found cancer in the mutant polyp. CANCER!  That word kept screaming at me over the phone.  I get a little dizzy, but keep my cool. There was a 3 millimeter break between the cancerous cells and the point where the polyp stem was severed, but there was a blood vessel a bit closer and they don’t know for sure if they got it all.

The rest of the conversation is a blur.  I try to write notes about this secretary and that patient navigator and the surgeon; SURGEON? 

Someone would call me to set up a CT scan to look for tumors and . . . I don’t remember much about the balance of that phone call.  One thing that sticks in my mind is that I need to have another sigmoidoscopy to mark the location where they found the cancer. “Thank you for calling.”

As the phone touches the cradle I have a major meltdown.  Crying, sobbing, cursing and screaming out loud; it doesn’t change anything, it just vents off some anger and fear.  “It’s a mistake, that’s someone else’s polyp.”

When I calm down I go to the computer.  I spend most of the next few weeks online looking at images and reading reports, and blogs, and medical journals; doing anything I can to find out what I’m up against.