Surgery Day

Surgery was scheduled for April 9th at 9:15 which meant we had to be there at 7:15. I didn't really eat the day before (or many days before that!) and couldn't  drink past midnight. My mouth was unbearably dry so I kept running to the bathroom to rinse and spit.

Honestly I barely remember changing clothes. I do know I had to have a pregnancy test which was difficult to do considering I hadn't been able to drink. I met nurses, anesthesiologists, and got to see my surgeon. I was given an epidural to manage the pain and make recovery easier. Narcotics block you up and that's the last thing you want when you have a colon resection.

The epidural went pretty smoothly. I was completely unfamiliar as I had all my babies at home. But I had the utmost confidence in my pain management team even after only having just met them moments before. Shortly after the epidural was put in I was wheeled away into the operating room. Big, sterile, bright, overwhelming. loaded with people-that's how I remember it. I saw my surgeon. He asked me to lift my gown and put my left leg in a stirrup and the next thing I knew I was in the recovery room.

I remember Dr. Stryker coming in and saying "The surgery went great!", but I could only respond by saying "It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!". And it did. Apparently there is a short time between coming out of surgery and recovering where the anesthesia must wear off before the epidural really kicks in. I remember feeling my abdomen and asking if I had a bag. The nurse told me no, there was no bag. Good news #1.

It wasn't long before I was being brought up to my room, pretty much close to pain free.
As I was being wheeled into my room I kept trying to see the look on Jim's face and decipher it. He didn't look happy (nor sad) and it was making me nervous. When I asked him he said it went great. The dr. came out almost an hour earlier than expected, thrilled with the result, said that he was concerned the tumor may have left the wall a little bit, but it was altogether in one tight mass. He took 16 lymph nodes and to him, they looked good. I had to double check with Katie (she insisted on coming) whether any of this was true because Jim was his usual hard to read self. She confirmed it was and joked with Jim that he was really bad at this kind of thing.

And so I felt ok. The pain was tolerable. Jim stayed the first night. I walked a bit the second day. Katie stayed the second night. I walked more and more. Jim stayed again and then Ruth stayed. I was getting better every day, eating (what I could-hospital food is truly awful), and feeling stronger. I was released the 5th day after I had met all the requirements.
I took one Norco after my epidural was removed and one when I got home and I haven't looked back. Despite having to deal with my final period and minor aches and pains, I would say it was a snap.
On the day of my release my surgeon came in. He said again how great the surgery went. He said he had received the pathology report and the bit of tumor he thought was exiting the bowel wall was actually a lymph node. He said the tumor remained within the walls, but there was a lymph node resting on top of the wall where the tumor was and it indeed had cancer cells in it. At this point I melted a little bit ,but he wouldn't have it. I said "Oh my God", and he said "Oh my God what?! You're fine, you're going to be fine. There were barely any cells in it and everything else looks great! I took 16 total lymph nodes 15 of which were clear. You may have to have chemo, but it won't be your neighbor with breast cancer's chemo. You'll keep your hair and be able to work. You are fine!".
And with that I decided to believe him.

Paging Dr. Stryker

When I was 39, nearly 40, I got hit with an attack of kidney stones. After lots of tests it was discovered that I had a benign tumor on my parathyroid. When the local Indiana dr. discussed opening my neck from ear to ear to remove the tumor, we looked to Chicago. In the end my tumor was removed by a young surgeon named Sturgeon (love that!) at Northwestern and I was left with a barely noticeable 1 inch scar on my throat. So in the colonoscopy room when the dr. told us we needed to see a surgeon right away Jim said "We'll be going to Northwestern". Just so happens the doc had a friend at Northwestern, he gave him a buzz and that's where we got the name Stryker (love that too!).
We of course googled Dr. Stryker and as it turns out he's the guy you want to see. We made the appointment and we were in his office one week and one day after the colonoscopy. To prepare there's some more not eating and then the morning of an enema. Not entirely pleasant, but doable.
We had the CT disc and all reports ready for the doc and after he gave me what has so far been the most invasive testing I'd experienced in my life (flexible sigmoidoscopy) we were back in his office ready to talk. Just like in the movies.
The surgery is performed to remove the tumor and the surrounding lymph nodes. It is done by cutting the margins of the tumourous colon and then reattaching the two remaining ends. It's called a colon resection.
He told us all the possibilities, even how things go with people with tumors other than where mine was, he told us EVERYTHING. Bottom line was my tumor was not in the best of places, a little lower than he preferred and expected. My ovaries might be in the way. Did I need them? Hell no, take 'em! I may have to wake up with an illesotomy, but it would be temporary. Bring it! I would not need radiation, but there was a 50% chance of adjuvant chemotherapy. I'm down! Was I busy next Thursday because that was his first opening? Who cares?!
At this point Dr. Stryker told me how he thought he'd know me in 20 years. How folks come into to see him and when he takes a look at everything he wonders how he'll ever be able to help them. But when people like me come in he's happy because he's got this and it's going to be just fine. In 5 years time we'll be toasting with champagne in his office and he'll be kicking me out the door permanently. These are good things to hear and I don't think he says them lightly, and they gave me the sliver of hope I needed to keep going, but the fear doesn't really subside. I'm as scared as I was when this first started. I'm just done melting on the floor. For now.
I was sent downstairs for a blood draw and chest X-ray. The CT scan didn't include my chest so I believe not only is the chest X-ray a way to make sure you're healthy enough for surgery but also to check for any signs of metastasis. Scary.  And I was told to set up an appointment with a cardiologist and a stoma nurse and then we'd be ready to roll.

CT Scan

My dr. called  me early evening Thursday April 2nd. I didn't want to take his call, but didn't even get the chance to make that decision because I left my phone downstairs when I went to brush my teeth. 3 minutes later there's a message on my phone. I got brave and listened and all he said was he wanted to discuss the CT results with me and that it was good news. That gave me the courage to call him back and he proceeded to tell me the tumor appeared to still be within the walls of the colon and that the lymphnodes looked good.
Prior to receiving this message I had been googling hospice so that shows you exactly where I was and where I had been. Unfortunately I had succeeded in getting Jim to go there with me.
The amount of stress I put on my body since I had been diagnosed was insane. Complete sobbing breakdowns, desperate sleepless nights, not to mention all of the tests and bariums and lack of eating. My BMs began to look very suspicious of a very advanced cancer stage so says me and Dr. Google and so I tried desperately to wrap my head around that. Oh the places you go.
When I received the call the moment after was one of complete and utter joy. I could not wait to see the surgeon, have an enema, and be examined in ways I had never dreamed of. I was ecstatic, so thankful.
But about 5 minutes of this and I came back down. Not all the way down, just down enough to know a CT scan is never a guarantee and although this was good news and more than likely I could stop looking at hospice, this was just the beginning and we wouldn't know a thing until after surgery.

Ok, Is That Considered Outpatient?

Spent the morning trying to determine whether my surgery SCHEDULED FOR THURSDAY needed a precert or whatever. My very kind customer service representive repeatedly told me how great my insurance was and how it was no wonder considering I paid so much for it. I spent forty minutes on the phone with someone who thought perhaps my colon resection due to a cancerous mass would be an outpatient procedure. What. The. Fuck.

Honestly, Insurance Companies, pay attention! If you're looking to pay less in medical bills and keep more of your premiums try educating your employees. The stress put upon your customers dealing with your uneducated employees is not doing anything at all to reduce the size of their tumors, I can promise you that.

But I'm jumping ahead. I'm not sure I confirmed the colonscopy diagnosis. The pathology report agreed with my doctor and then some. This discovery led to a complete melt down on our business office carpet where I had to scrape myself up off the floor after too much googling. The following days were a complete devastation of all things normal and wonderful and the places I went to (and dragged others) were the deepest and darkest I've ever been.

One week from colonoscopy I was prepped for CT scan. Which takes a kind of strength I didn't quite have. I made it through, but not before quaking and shivering when I was told there would be an IV as well as the contrast I had forced down hours earlier. I slowly breathed through with eyes closed managing to stay calm.
Bottom line: I was alone, no matter who was in the waiting room waiting for me, and knew that I would be for much of the rest of this journey.