Thank You For Saving My Life

Dear Friends and Family,

Nearly a week and a half after surgery, I can say with certainty based on the assurance of my medical team that I am now cancer-free. The pathology test which came back on the section of my colon that was removed during surgery revealed that chemoradiation had shrunk the 4cm cancerous mass and only 1mm of cancer was left in the tissue that had been removed. As I headed into surgery that day, my dad and my sister Nina following behind the gurney on which I lay, I felt a surge of fear after spending all day calming myself for this pinnacle of my treatment. I knew that there were two potential outcomes that would be discovered once I woke up from the anesthesia, and I had resigned myself to the possibility that I might have a permanent colostomy. But when I woke and found the temporary ileostomy instead, and my battered self lying in a pretty recovery room surrounded by friends, family, and flowers, I still could not fathom that it was all over and I had been saved by my medical team: Dr. Oliver Biggers (colorectal surgeon), Dr. Kathryn Crossland (hematologist/oncologist), and Dr. Eric Taylor (radiation oncologist).

I had been heavily sedated to manage the pain and could not really remember a lot of details from that day, and I am appalled and mortified that I had asked for Kentucky Fried Chicken after major abdominal surgery. I guess that was the last food imprint made before I fasted for surgery, so it stuck. My recovery in the hospital was from Monday the 22nd to Saturday the 27th, when I was discharged home to my dad's house in Puyallup to finish my recuperation. I could not absorb the enormity of the good news in so short a time since my battle seems to have been raging for so long. Toni called this my "weird summer of cancer", and I had to be grateful that this struggle did not go on for years, as some have had to endure in their fight against cancer. Even as my oncologist high-fived me in the hospital bed, and I read the words on the pathology report myself, I could only shake my head and cry until the nurse came in and took my hand and soothed me into a calm. Of course I thought of my sons, because this fight has been all about making sure I would be around to raise them.

The first night back home and away from the hospital was a trance of pain medication and despair. Even though I was surrounded by concerned family, the condition of my mind and body made me want to shun all company so that I could let all of this sink in. I snapped at people and then apologized, and then thanked them at the same time I asked not to be fussed over. How could I explain this deplorable behavior? Although I should have been happy and pleasant, the truth was that I was overcome by an extreme sensation of sadness and discomfort. I was acting the opposite of how I should have been feeling because I was influenced by pain and crushing desolation. I had once mentioned the Kubler-Ross Cycle and how I felt that I was going backwards instead. After months of acceptance and calm, I suddenly felt angry and in shock at having this awful bag attached to my abdomen. I had waited all this time to have my "freak out" moment just now.

But as the pain subsides day by day, I can feel gratitude and hope emerging again as the news is repeated to me again by my doctor. As he removed the staples from my surgical incision wound last Wednesday, hearing it repeated when I was in the right state of mind to accept the news made all the difference. I have beat the odds and I will endure yet. I feel a flood of love for all the good people in my life who have helped me to combat this; those who stood by and held my hand, those who nurtured my wounded spirit, those who gave so generously to help me along. I could not have done this alone, battling not only the pain but the range of emotions, and I realized that I had an army behind me the entire time. I reaffirmed many friendships and forged even stronger ones through this experience. The gratitude I feel for my family, too, has encased me in comfort and safety as I run this home stretch toward a full recovery.

I must wear this wretched bag for three more months until I am fully healed. Then I head back in for what I hope to be my last cancer-related surgery to reverse the ileostomy and put me back together again. If it all works, I should hopefully be restored to health, although the physical and emotional scars will serve to remind me that this happened at all. I look back on that hazy week in the hospital and remember a lot of smiling faces and flowers in my room, but not much of what was said. Thank you to all the loved ones who called, e-mailed, visited, and brought flowers to cheer me up. Thank you to my devoted family, who took turns sleeping awkwardly on the small couch next to my bed to ensure that I would feel safe and have company as I recovered. ALL OF YOU, as much as my doctors, deserve unending thanks for keeping me from falling into complete despair and for saving my life in every sense of the word. I am humbled and grateful beyond what words can express. My heartfelt thanks and sincere love to you all.