The Lewis County Herald - 9/27/22
With most stories, when I begin writing I already know the important details and the outcome, and have a pretty good outline of the whole thing in my head.
With this story, I don’t.
I suppose it will be more of a journal I’ll share with our readers each week until all the details are revealed as we work our way toward an ending.
As the edition of The Lewis County Herald you are holding in your hands is moving through the postal system, I’ll be meeting up with a group of masked folks in a brightly lit room in Lexington.
One of those folks will be wielding a sharp instrument with the intent of removing a section of my colon that, hopefully, contains all of the cancer cells in my body.
The discovery of my adenocarcinoma came during a colonoscopy when the doctor encountered what he described as a “mass” past which he could not maneuver the scope because it had nearly completely blocked the route.
My lovely bride was waiting in the recovery room during the procedure and hers was the first face on which my eyes focused since the anesthetist asked if I had any pets.
The doctor told Tammy and me that he had swapped out the adult sized camera for a “juvenile sized” one and was still unable to explore any points beyond the aforementioned mass.
As he is explaining this, I am thinking VHS vs. Beta. (If you’re younger than 60 you’ll need to look that one up on the Google.)
He further described how, with the scope, he was able to acquire a sample from the mass, leave a tattoo, and harvest a polyp from the short section of colon he was able to navigate.
Now, I’m thinking that scope must be made by the same company in Switzerland that manufactures pocket knives. (I didn’t interrupt to ask if it has a fold-out corkscrew.)
He explained how he would send the sample and polyp off to a lab where they would be examined and any abnormalities would be reported back, at which time he would invite us back to reveal the findings.
During that follow-up, the doctor said the test results confirmed his suspicion that the mass is cancer and told us the first step in eradicating it from my body is surgery.
He scheduled us to meet with the surgeon and ordered a spate of tests in which I believe at least two quarts of blood were siphoned from my body. There were also a couple of injections that made me feel warm all over and as though I had wet my britches.
I know a place up (Holler name redacted) where you can find an elixir that does the same thing.
It wasn’t long before we traveled to Lexington to meet with the surgeon. He outline his planned procedure and laid out best and worst scenarios.
Tammy, who had consulted with the all-knowing interweb about my malady, posed some questions to the doctor.
He told us he would know more after he “got in there.”
What stage; if it had spread and how much; if any other organs are affected; the scope of the procedure; and a few other queries that will be answered at various points during the surgery and addressed by the surgeon, and then conveyed to us following the procedure.
The common thread during our medical visits, other than the obvious task of curing the disease, has been that I’ve had no symptoms.
None.
I urge you to look up the symptoms for colon and colorectal cancers. Especially if you are more than half-a-century old. There are some differences based on age, gender, and the like.
Earlier this year as my, um, 39th birthday (read: 60) was approaching, I visited my family physician and requested the 100,000 mile checkup with all the pertinent tests and to make sure all my shots and immunizations were up-to-date.
All the test results were within normal ranges and the test where you send a stool specimen off in the mail was inconclusive.
I hadn’t had a colonoscopy prior to this year because of not having a family history, good test results, and earlier negative results on that mail-in test.
The follow-up to the colonoscopy was scheduled. Tammy and I received the diagnosis during that appointment.
It was on my birthday.
The outpouring of support and abundance of prayers sent to Heaven on my behalf are humbling and much appreciated.
I thank God for all my blessings. There have been many.
I had pondered on writing about this adventure to share with readers of The Herald.
Dave Taylor, a friend with whom I had served on the board of the Kentucky Press Association, died September 5.
Dave was a journalist with The Hancock Clarion in Hawesville and was diagnosed in May 2021 with stage four esophageal cancer that had spread.
He continued to attend KPA meetings, between his treatments, and we generally sat near one another.
Dave wrote regularly about the journey following his diagnosis and placed the bar high for journalists with cancer.
He said he had received many positive comments on the series and had been told by more than one of the readers that his story prompted them to be more vigilant in protecting their health.
It was likely Dave’s story in the back of my mind when I scheduled and went in for that 100,000 mile check-up.
I hope my story will underscore the need that we should all take advantage of preventive care screenings. Sometimes there are no symptoms.
Here is a link to Dave’s series of articles in The Hancock Clarion:
In the next installment, I’ll pass along what the surgeon found and how he addressed it.
I wonder if he has any neat Swiss Army surgical gadgets.
Our dear friend Nichole headed up an effort to have shirts made with this logo on the front.
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