The Evolution of My Ass Part 3

After the initial shock wore off, it was time to get down to business. I drew upon years of experience with making lists and planning things. At times, this passion of mine has almost crossed the line into obsession, but at this point, it was a skill that would serve me well. Trust me, when an event like this happens, you have a LOT of information coming at you from all directions. A handy-dandy little notepad or day planner proves to be extremely useful. So I armed myself with planners, folders, binders and other such accouterments and set off to meet my destiny.

The next few months were a whirlwind of tests, exams, and doctor visits. I was poked at so many times with so many needles, I was beginning to resemble a street junkie with a serious heroin addiction. And oh, the paperwork. For every new doctor, comes new paperwork. I actually got a little sarcastic and slightly ridiculous a couple times filling them out. I do hope some overworked, stressed out, medical receptionist enjoyed my attempt at humor. Maybe not. And there were a lot of questions. Being so young, with what is normally considered an "old-person" disease, naturally the medical field was very interested in my case, so there were a few odd inquiries. For instance, I had one doctor who just came right out and asked me bluntly if I had ever had anal sex. Not that there's necessarily any medical data that would link anal sex to ass cancer, but hey, I guess he was either just nosy or thought maybe he had stumbled upon something perhaps revolutionary. I took a DNA test to see if there was a genetic link predisposing me to certain types of cancer, including colorectal cancer. Nope. Not that either.

What they did know was that the tumor was large and aggressive. I don't remember exactly how large; I did see scan results with the exact centimeter size, but it just didn't mean much to me. (According to one doctor, any tumor over the size of your fingernail is considered significant.) Which meant, I didn't have time to waste as far as beginning treatment. They wanted to act just as aggressively. Not long after, about mid-October I began a combo of radiation therapy and chemotherapy. For five days a week, for five straight weeks, I underwent radiation with two oral chemo pills to be taken morning and night. I can't lie. It was five long weeks of pure hell.

Radiation as they described it to me was like getting a bad sunburn. And yeah, I guess that's kind of what it felt like. Of course, having a sunburn on your bottom is no fun if you can imagine. I can literally say my ass was pretty chapped! It hurt to sit. Hell, it hurt to lie down. Everything hurt. Diarrhea was back with a vengeance, I was dropping weight to the point of anorexia, I was in constant pain, dehydrated, and just overall about as miserable as a person can be. I was starting to look forward to a colostomy. No joke. Anything was better than this. As for the colostomy, the reality was setting in. The hope with radiation and chemo was to shrink the tumor as much as possible, but the chances of radiating it completely were very slim. And because the tumor extended down into my anus, reconstructing the colon wasn't very feasible either. I received the maximum amount of radiation allowed. The chemo pills were no fun either, but honestly, it was hard to tell what the Devil in the situation was. People ask what was the worst part, or what caused the most discomfort. But the truth is, when you go through so much at once (don't forget our old friend C-Diff or the abscess) you really have no idea what is causing what. Everything in your body is screaming in agony and you can't point the finger at any one particular cause.

And yes, the abscess that triggered that first doctor appointment had returned. Actually, it never fully left. Combined with the high doses of radiation, it basically turned into the nuclear, Godzilla of abscesses. During my last week or two of radiation, I finally had it surgically drained. That was no barrel of monkeys either. (So sorry to keep being the bearer of bad news but I'm just being honest.) After the surgery, my poor, dear Mother had the unfortunate job of having to pack my butt cheek every day with fresh gauze strips. It did eventually heal after much trial and tribulation. Thank heavens. That was a pain unlike any other, that I never care to experience again.

November 20, 2014 - After five excruciating weeks, I was done with that phase. I did live through it. And my testimony is that a person can endure a lot more than they think they can. Sometimes you just have to bite down on the belt strap so to speak and hang in there until it's over. But, whew! Just looking back on it, it brings me to shivers. For the next couple of months, my only real job in life was to recover. Give my body time to heal. And I did just that. I started a few projects around the house I hadn't really had much time before to do; to keep my mind occupied. I meditated and prayed, quite often. I renewed my faith and my inner determination to get through this and come out on the other side a stronger person. I wasn't done yet. I still had a major surgery looming in my future. But for the time being, it was a time of rest.