When last I left you I had recounted the "scare" of late last summer early fall. Well after the phantom pain or discomfort and what seemingly is nothing related to colon cancer, life was to return to normal...or at least my new normal- Regular surveillance tests like CT scans, quarterly bloodwork, monthly port flushes...and every cold, flu, backache, nagging pain that just won't go away sparking a deep seated fear way back in the mind that my cancer had spread, that the surgery over 18 months ago had still left some cancerous little fuckers behind and that they had found a new home. Normal. Yeah. Nice and normal. Until the "normal" /"regular" surveillance test in November, the "regular" CT scan one year post chemo, 18 months post diagnosis and surgery.
I honestly don't know what I was thinking going to my follow-up CT scan appointment alone. Was I getting complacent? Was I beginning to believe that since tests at 6 months, 9 months, 12 months, CEA tests and the battery of chest xrays, bone scans etc. had all been good that I am out of the woods? I decided to head to my follow-up meeting with Dr. Hart after my 18month CT scan by myself thinking that I would just head to work afterward. No big deal. Victoria should just stay home with Ben. No need to come with.
I sat in the waiting room like I have before many times and read the signs to shut off my cell phone and smiled. No need to be "connected" or "online" when waiting for Dr. Hart. I talked to Michelle, his (awesome) assistant about Benjamin and his latest milestone. And it was all normal.
Then why did something just not feel right?!
Why were my hands shaking?
Why was that nagging fear that is ALWAYS there way way way back in the mind...now feel palpable?
Remember it is all in my mind, right?!
Then Michelle told me to go on in and wait in his patient exam room. And for some reason I began to sweat. As I sat there in his exam room looking at all the different and varied illustrations and diagrams of the human GI system I looked for the sigmoid colon where my primary tumour had been that Dr. Hart removed, looked at the blood network and pathways to various organs in the "system" - liver, pancreas, stomach, gallbladder, lungs. I have seen these illustrations many times before but today for some reason found myself staring at the diagram that outlined the sigmoid and the picture of colon cancer cells depicted.
And then Dr. Hart walked in.
After the typical "hellos", he turned to me and referenced my latest CT as "mostly good".
"Mostly good?!" WTF?
Dr. Hart went on to talk about the spot on my liver. That damn spot they found in the hospital after my surgery 18 months ago. That spot that had been unchanged in all the previous scans to date. That fucking little spot. You see it has changed. What was once 3mm is now 5mm...or something like that. And although not large in size the fact that it had undergone cellular growth and change was of concern. Dr. Hart went on to tell me that I need not worry yet about it until he was worried. And he wasn't worried yet. He said he was ordering a special liver MRI to find out more. And IF..IF it was liver metastases...if it was determined to be liver mets then he would go in and remove it. Dr. Hart tried to reassure me that he cures people of liver mets from colon cancer all the time. Or at least I think that is what he said.
All I remember hearing is "growth", "liver", "metastases", "surgery".
Before I left the office, Michelle scheduled me in for a liver MRI and it was to happen within a week of the meeting.
I left his office, turned on my cell phone, and called Victoria. As soon as she answered I broke down. And cried. I told her everything that I could recall Dr. Hart told me. I heard the despair and fear in her voice.
I thought about Benjamin. And cried.
What followed for weeks afterward was truly the scariest darkest moments of my life. Telling my family of the latest results. Telling my coworkers that something may be terribly wrong. Putting my life on hold. Tears. Moments of extreme clarity. Followed by moments of deepest darkest fear.
Surgery? Chemo? Am I going to be on my feet for Christmas? Can Dr. Hart operate on this spot and remove it? Does this mean I am going to die? What about a will? I don't have one. Should I tell my lawyer? Will I be off work again? What are the stats for colon cancer liver metastases? I think about Barb. And cry.
MRI on the liver is NOT pleasant but the nurses and staff at St. Joes were sooooooooo awesome. But unfortunately the MRI was scheduled for late Friday afternoon. Victoria and I would have to go all weekend wondering...what would it show?
I decided to call Michelle at Dr. Hart's office on Friday and found out that his office would close Monday for Remembrance Day but that if when he read the results on Tuesday he determined surgery was an option to be discussed, I should be prepared to have surgery immediately - literally within days.
The weekend was a blur. Trying to keep busy and distracted with visits from my sister Jodie and her family. Just what I needed.
Monday - go to work and bury myself in my job and try NOT to worry. LOL.
Tuesday came and I was a complete wreck. Could NOT stop worrying about the results even though I knew to focus on all the positive information we had to go on.
The phone rang. It is my mother calling to checkin. Arggghhhh.
2:00, 2:15, 2:30, 2:45....the phone rings. It is Michelle. Dr. Hart has consulted with the technologist and they both "do not think it is liver metastases. It looks like a cyst but we need to send you to a special physician guided ultrasound of your liver. But he is pretty sure it is a cyst.
BREATHE. REJOICE.
So...another test. More wait. More worry but not quite as much.
The phone rings. Caller ID tells me it is St. Joes. It is Michelle from Dr. Hart's office. She says he wants to talk to me. I swallow my tongue.
And the results of the ultrasound are in. It is a cyst. It is not liver cancer. It is not metastases. He wants me to hear this from him and to enjoy the Christmas holidays now.
Dr. Hart gave me a gift that not even St. Nick could.
He gave me hope. He gave me peace (at least for now until the next test ;-)).
In the immortal words of Tiny Tim "God bless us everyone".
And in my words "God bless you, Dr. Hart.".
There is no big story here...I just stopped. I guess there was a part of me that felt that I was starting to get to "the other side of things" in my battle with cancer. It wasn't consuming me nearly as much as it had been. I was less and less identifying myself as a cancer patient despite the regular blood tests, the CT scans, the meetings with my Onc. Certainly I have still been very vocal and active with the Bum Run, with sharing my story with people in different forums than my very personal blog. And I will continue to do so. But I think mentally I have moved to a very different space now with each day, with each month, with each year that goes by and I begin to put colon cancer...behind me (pun intended ;-)) 
