Cancer sucks

I’ve been pondering for a while whether I should create this post. The probability of it turning into a pity party seems high, not something (I don’t think) it is intended to be. Perhaps it is an attempt to bare my feelings, hopes, and fears to an understanding group, a cheap form of group therapy if you will. Perhaps it can be a warning to others to take care of themselves. Perhaps it is a cry for pity; when I was much younger I enjoyed having my friends stay the weekend. We would smoke some doobies, cook and eat, and drink too much. I’d get up hung over the next morning, “Rita, feel sorry for me” I’d cry, Rita would tell me to shut up, get up, and let’s cook breakfast. She never did tolerate my BS.

Perhaps 10 years or so ago I would notice an occasional difficulty in swallowing while eating, immediately followed by nausea. If I sat back and waited 5 minutes it would pass and I could continue my meal. This would happen about once every 6 months. My friend Ed noticed one time and suggested I see a doctor. I would attribute it to eating too fast or the richness of the food. Never did see a doctor about this.

About two or three years ago things got a bit worse. I’d get up early for work, have my coffee, and have a cigarette. About every two weeks nausea would hit me, I would end up getting the dry heaves into the kitchen sink. Again I would not think much of it, one too many drinks the night before. After 5 minutes at the sink it would pass and I continued with my morning routine.

As you can tell I certainly did not have the healthiest lifestyle. Too much alcohol, a pack of Kools daily, and an occasional cigar were my hobbies.

I am breaking up the timeline a bit, but 1996 was the year I was diagnosed HIV positive. Up to that time the diagnosis was pretty much of a death notice. My doctor did mention the availability of new drugs that appeared to be affective against HIV. He asked if I would be interested in trying, it took me all of 5 seconds to say hell yes. Nonetheless I was pretty much resigned to kicking the bucket. My biggest (unfounded) concern was the shame my parents would feel. I remember having the thought “why can’t this be something respectable like a heart attack”?

Fast forward to a month ago. At every meal I felt full after 4 or 5 bites of food, if I tried to eat more I would be running to the bathroom. The morning kitchen sink routine became a daily ritual. I haven’t seen a general practitioner since 2017, needed to find a new doctor. Ended up seeing a nurse practitioner (NP) she could get me in the next day.

So the next day I go to see her. She noted two items of concern. My weight was down to 152, from a very steady normal of 165. She also felt an abnormality on the upper part of my stomach. She ordered at CT scan at a nearby facility, and a combination colonoscopy and endoscopy along with an appointment with a Gastroenterologist.

The following Tuesday I went in for the CT scan. The NP called Thursday morning and discussed the results. I honestly don’t remember the entire conversation, but she mentioned spots on my liver and some surrounding lymph nodes. For the first time I heard the word cancer applied to me. She ordered a liver biopsy, this is happening tomorrow.

Meanwhile the colonoscopy/endoscopy happened last Thursday April 14th. Holy crap, prepping for a colonoscopy when you have difficulty keeping things down is an adventure. Fourteen doses of a powdered laxative mixed with 64 onces of Gatorade, yum. The doctor was there as I came to. Good news, the colonoscopy was fine, removed two polyps. Bad news, I have three malignant esophageal tumors that were biopsied. Gastroenterologist made an appointment for me to see an oncologist, this appointment is this week Thursday. He put me on a liquid diet, even though my weight is now down to 145.

If anyone shows any interest I will post more regarding how I am feeling, coping, and my support.