I think I called myself a cancer survivor one too many times. I have recently been diagnosed with metastatic colon cancer. It is already in my liver. I am frightened, and not really believing it all right now. I will have a CAT scan tomorrow to determine the extent of the cancer. The next day I will see a surgeon, and the next week, an oncologist.
I can't bring myself to tell my son yet. I don't have life insurance. Doesn't that beat all, huh? I have considered becoming a body donor after I pass to MCV. I will have to get some insurance but I will have to survive for at least 2 years. I would like to live much longer of course, but the odds are against me.
I hope it will be possible for me to have surgery to remove it all, even if they can only give me a bottle of whisky and a stick to bite on. I have heart disease, so I'm not sure how all this will work out now.
My first go-round with colon cancer was back in 1995, just after I had turned 40. I tolerated the surgery and the chemo well. I didn't receive my full course of treatments, though. My husband, bless his heart, decided it was time to quit his job and move to Georgia. I had stopped working at this point, so the timing wasn't the greatest, but that's the way it goes sometimes.
I think I am more frightened for my son, EJ, than myself. He lives with me and has done so pretty much since my youngest son died in Iraq. I just don't know how to tell him.
More later.
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