Everyone loves a happy ending, right? Actually, I must confess that I prefer a non-Hollywood ending to films (eg. Fargo, Usual Suspects, Memento). But, in my case, a happy ending is much appreciated.
And, that’s what I got after my most recent CT scan back in December. A clean report means that I’m now five years cancer free. After one last check up with my surgeon a few weeks from now, I will be officially discharged from the cancer follow-up program. As such, I will return to being a normal citizen with no more risk of developing cancer than anyone else.
That said, my life is still complicated by the impact of my various cancer treatments, namely three surgeries and loads of chemo and radiation. My digestive system has adapted and improved over the last few years but there’s no replacing nine inches of large intestine…it doesn’t grow back.
As a result, I continue to be tormented by unpredictable/unrelenting intestinal habits that periodically leave my tummy in turmoil and my tooshie in tatters. My poor digestion also produces inconsistent energy levels and my brain doesn’t seem to work quite the same any more, with chemo being the most likely culprit.
But, in the grand scheme of things, these are small prices to pay. I would rather endure these relatively minor inconveniences than the obvious alternative (i.e. being dead). Cancer is a notoriously lethal disease and I survived. That’s the bottom line.
Now that I’ve crossed the finish line, I thought it would be a good time for one last look at my stats. over my five year cancer “career”. These serve to highlight the lengthy and intrusive nature of cancer and the related treatments. Everyone should do whatever they can to avoid this disease. Proper nutrition and regular exercise are good places to start.
My stats. also should show that life goes on when you have cancer. Although the treatments and recovery process are rather onerous, one must try to maintain a sense of normalcy. It sends a powerful message to your brain…it says “I will survive this and carry on”.
|
1 |
MRI’s | I hated this…can you say claustrophobia? |
|
1 |
Skating races | 5km with my newly installed PICC line |
|
2 |
Tattoos | Tiny permanent marks that improved the accuracy of radiation |
|
2 |
PICC lines | 44cm from bicep to heart…these things were really cool/weird |
|
3 |
Surgeries | Apr/11, Oct/11 and Mar/14 |
|
4 |
Trips to emergency | Not enjoyable experiences |
|
5 |
NG tubes | These were really awful…perhaps the worst part of my experience |
|
6 |
Scopes | 3 colonoscopies and 3 flexible sigmoidoscopies |
|
7 |
CT scans | These weren’t so bad |
|
8 |
X-Rays | Mostly to see if NG tubes/PICC lines were inserted correctly |
|
13 |
Soccer teams coached | 8 boys teams and 5 girls teams…I love to coach! |
|
15 |
Family trips | Bathurst, Cuba, PEI, Cape Breton, Montreal, U.S. |
|
19 |
Parent/teacher days | I think I missed one |
|
25 |
Radiation treatments | Dangerous beams aimed at my butt…fun! |
|
32 |
Doctors | Lots of these were residents who looked like teenagers |
|
34 |
Days in hospital | Four different admissions, lots of sleepless nights |
|
55 |
Days of chemo | 35 days of “walking” chemo + 20 days of injections |
|
206 |
Days with an ileostomy | Yes, I crapped in a bag for 7 months |
|
230 |
Nurses/technicians | An unbelievably high number |
|
250 |
Soccer games coached | Plus another 300 or so practices…like I said, I love to coach! |
The most important stat. of them all cannot be measured. That would be the endless love, support and encouragement I received from family, friends and complete strangers. All of it made a difference and for that I’m eternally grateful.
The (Happy) End(ing)
steveneddy 