The Cut
It’s a little frightening to know they’re going to cut a foot of colon out of me.
Let that sink in for a minute.
That’s a whole foot.
You know, the length of a ruler. Go on, go find one, set it out in front of you and take a good long minute to stare at it. That’s what I did. I laid my metal crafting ruler on my desk and stared at it. Then shivered. It’s hard not to.
It’s not like that whole section they’re going to cut out is full of cancer. It’s not. It’s a small growth [size not specified by anyone] that’s taking up valuable real estate. It just happens that they … they being the surgical team, have to exorcise an entire section, that specified foot in length, to make sure they include the nodes to that section [where the major blood vessels are] in order to make sure they remove all possible avenue for the cancer to travel further afield, and start infecting other areas of my body.
Which, obviously, isn’t what anyone wants. A cancer-party going on in every major organ of your body!
If I’m lucky enough, this is it. This is all the action that will be necessary. Surgery. Followed up by regular check ups and colonoscopies. But that all depends on what they find when the do the analysis of cancer tissue. They might tell me that I will need follow up chemo, just in case. Something I’m dreading almost as much as the surgery itself.
But that’s another decision for another if, and only if and when I have to cross that particular bridge. As it stands, I’m putting all my energies into trying to stay positive, and focused on getting through the surgery, and the recovery. Anywhere between 6 to 8 weeks.
So please, no one make me laugh after surgery, will you, I have no desire to pop my titanium staples, thank you very much.
Now, I wonder if I’ll be setting off all those security machines at the airport the next time I fly? Now won’t that be a hoot!