If you have ever wondered what it feels like to be diagnosed with the “C” word, maybe I can help. Disclaimer… not all mind games apply to all people. Laugh out loud. Which I am trying to do lately. It’s easier for me to laugh than cry. Crying is such hard work and you need tissues and everything.
Day One. I had just been woken up from a colonoscopy that I had put off for 10 years, because, silly, cancer doesn’t run in my family. I heard the person next to me being told, “You did great. Just a few small polyps but we got them.” No one said much to me. I was told before I left the office that I had cancer. I thought I was still feeling the effects of the anesthesia and asked my husband if I was dreaming. Then I asked the doctor how long he thought the tumor had been there. “It probably started as a small polyp about 10 years ago,” he said. Silly me.
Day Two. I woke up wanting to throw eggs at my trendy gray walls in my trendy apartment building. I have always loved how yellow looks with gray. And I was angry. And I needed to throw something. Lots of somethings. Eggs were the perfect choice as I could then watch the goo trickle down the wall. Fun for everyone. Then I realized who would have to clean it up. My husband, of course, and he had enough on his plate. No pun intended.
Day Three. I had received confirmation the day before that I was in stage 4 colon cancer. I woke up still wanting to throw eggs, but I contained myself. When I walked to the elevator I saw an actual egg next to the elevator. Broken just enough to reveal the yellow yolk inside. So…okay…how many times, say, anywhere, do you see one broken egg outside your door? Unless it’s Halloween and you are a miserable person who didn’t give out any treats.
Day Four. You know those dogs you see on the ASPCA ads? Especially the one chained outside… shivering in the cold… with no shelter. That image stops me in my tracks every time. I imagine the dog wondering what he did to deserve this kind of life. Does he blame himself, or does he remain hopeful that someone will come rescue him? That an amazingly kind and wonderful person will give him his freedom back. The sort of freedom he once enjoyed as a young pup, with no thought that life could turn out this cruel. That is how I feel as I wait for the doctors to fit me into their schedule. Please come rescue me.
My son, Cam, with his dog, Bauer, visiting a brewery in the dog friendly town of Asheville, North Carolina.