2017 Is Looking Up.
2016 was a shit year for me. I know it was for most of the country, and it’s sort of a year we all want to forget happened. 2016 changed my life. When I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, I surely thought that they had my results confused with some 87 year old man, and that they should correct that quickly. In fact when he told me, it didn’t really sink in because stomach cancer sounded like a thing cows got because they have four stomachs. When it went from stage “manageable and possibly cureable” to stage “holy shit get your affairs in order” that was kind of a shock. To say I didn’t lose my shit would be a lie. I mean, I was already a vividly colorful person, (some would say emotional and irrational, but what do they know?) but to get that bomb dropped, my world turned upside down. I was like Sally Field in “Steel Magnolias” when her daughter died...which I’m pretty sure she won an Oscar for, or should have. For the younger folks, yes, spoiler alert, but also it was made in 1989, you should have educated yourself by now.
Anyway, today was the first glimmer of good news. After 11 months of shit, I deserved some good fucking news. My surgeon told me that my cytology came back negative. In my head fireworks are being lit, but then I realize most of you might not know what that means. What took me over the edge to stage 4 were these little microscopic asshole cancer cells outside of my stomach...and now after these two rounds of hot chemo, they appear to be gone. My surgeon made sure to reiterate that this isn’t going to be a cure, but rather a real shot at a longer higher quality of life. My psychic was right, I will see my 60′s yet! Don’t judge me, when you get diagnosed with terminal cancer, you’ll see and try JUST ABOUT ANYTHING! I was like, one bad test result from seeing a shaman and drinking alpaca piss.
So what does this mean? It means that I’m scheduled for a very invasive, miserable surgery in a month. They’re going to remove all or part of my stomach, and any cancer they can see. They’re going to try and save as much stomach as possible, but there is a real chance I’ll lose the whole thing. Here’s how that part of the conversation played out.
Dr: Due to where your tumor is located, we’re going to try and keep as much of the stomach as possible. If we can, you’d be left with a “fist sized stomach”.
Me: Baby fist or adult lumberjack fist?
Dr: Uh...medium sized fist.
Me: Got it, I can work with that. What happens if you remove the whole stomach?
Dr: You’ll get vitamin injections monthly for the rest of your life, and we’ll create a new stomach from your large intestine, and gradually over time, that can stretch to a “fist sized stomach”.
Me: Baby fist or adult lumberjack fist?
Dr: Uh...baby fist.
Me: I can work with that.
Eventually he’ll get on board with my sense of humor.
I’ll be in the hospital for a couple of weeks, tubes coming out of every hole...literally every hole. Actually I don’t think they’ll put one in my butt, but just to be safe I’ll ask. I’ll keep you all posted. Then I’ll have a feeding tube for about 5 weeks. I’m pretty sure it’s one of those tubes you have to pure Ensure in, and not blended up country fried steak...but I could be wrong. Also, there are a whole slew of possible side effects that sounded like Charlie Brown mumbling because all I could hear was that I finally got a negative cytology report.
So there is a lot to celebrate this month. My birthday being the obvious first thing, and the fact that I have a real shot at a longer better quality of life than previously thought. On the downside it also means I only have a month left of full sized meals, so I’ll be eating...a lot. Today is a good day.
