Three Times #KidsintheHall Helped Me Through Shitty Stuff

1) Hotel LaRut

I was married, once. At 20, I was probably not ready to be married. My erstwhile ex-husband was definitely not ready to be married. All in all, marriage was a mistake.  I got a couple of pretty amazing kids out of the deal, so it ain't all bad, though.

I usually don't like to use identifiers here, because privacy, but this joke may not make a lot of sense if you don't know his name was Tony.

After we split up, whenever I was down and listless and complaining and crying, my best friend would put on a fake French accent and ask "What's wrong, my Michelle?" (Full disclosure: My name is not Michelle.  But you probably already knew that).

At this point I would slowly start to smile, and put on my own fake french accent..

"Oh, Silvee.. I can't help thinking about Tony..."



2) But Do You Love *Me*

I dated a dude once.  A dude, who although he professed to like an awful lot of things about me, always came back to how he just didn't quite feel *that way* about me.  Me, being the sucker I was, let him come back into my life numerous times, only to have the same conversation again, until I finally had to say "Enough!"



I'm not so sure this was one of those times where laughter is the actually the best medicine but those nights of drinking wine straight from the bottle while sobbing "I'm an icky, icky tree!" sure helped me work through some stuff.

"ICKY ICKY TREE"

3) The Cause of Cancer

Shitty things happen in life. Sometimes terrible, horrible things happen to good people.  Or, at the very least, to well-meaning people.

But, I digress.

When horrible things happen, sometimes it is comforting to have some kind of faith that everything happens for a reason.

We call those reasons 'Scapegoats'.

So when I was diagnosed with Stage 1 colon cancer, I had the perfect scapegoat in Bruce McCulloch. It helped that Bruce was always my least favourite Kid, so in a twisted part of my mind, it made sense that in his vengeance, out of spite for being my least favorite, that he would maliciously grow a tumour in my colon.




Dave's right. He doesn't even sound sorry.

A year and one week.

I guess this post has been a while coming, but quite honestly, I've been having a bloody shit-show (ahaha, see what I did there?) of a week or two.

I don't have cancer.  Hooray!

I got the colonoscopy results a week ago and I was grateful but oddly underwhelmed.  There's a couple of reasons behind this:  One, because I never did radiation or chemo or anything, I still don't really feel like a real Cancer Survivor™.  There's still this weird unreality about the whole ordeal. 

I had cancer.  I had surgery.  I didn't have cancer anymore.

Done.

Meanwhile, I found it hard to get too excited because of the uncertainty in knowing that there is always a chance of it coming back.  So I got the news and it was like "You don't have cancer," and I thought inwardly "... well, for now."

I guess I'm being overly pragmatic about the whole thing?  I feel like I *should* be super-excited and jumping for joy when in reality I'm more like "Oh.. okay.  Cool.  Want to get a pizza?"

Does that make me ungrateful?  Maybe. 

Today I drove down to Mount Sinai to meet with my surgeon about my progress. Traffic and other complications, including almost hitting a pedestrian outside the hospital, resulted in being about 25 minutes late. Thankfully, the people at the hospital know I'm coming a rather stupid distance and are understanding.

The Well-Travelled One and I waited in the world's tiniest exam room until a nervous resident came to go over my medical history.  I've gotten to the point where I can pretty much recite my entire medical history on command.  Often to strangers in grocery stores.

I was subjected to an examination of both my abdomen (not terribly invasive) and rectum (much more invasive), rolling over while trying not to fall off the exam table.

I laughed long and loud after the mildly uncomfortable rectal exam, as the resident explained that each of the hospital's residents have to take turns with each area of specialty and that he'd come to the conclusion that he was not cut out for colorectal work due to being cursed with huge fingers.

This was probably the funniest thing I heard all day.  I'm glad he didn't tell me before the exam, though.

We met with my surgeon afterwards, who was pleased with my condition.  I'm to go back in six months for a scope and possibly a CT scan.  I originally thought that I would not have to go back for a year, but truth be told, I'd rather have a six month check-up, so if anything new develops, there's a good chance of catching it early again.

I felt a little more relief at this news, but I still am not all super-duper excited. 

I'm glad. I'm grateful. But I'm not excited. 

Do you ever get to let your guard down after something like this?

Whatcha got in that bag, Lady?

My co-workers crack me up sometimes.

This conversation happened this afternoon.

My co-worker who we will call CA (because no one will figure it out) is cleaning her keyboard with one of those compressed-air cans.

Me: I need to do that too.  My keyboard is gross.

(My keyboard is gross.  I'm not lying.)

CA: Just fart on it.  Fart through a straw.

(We're classy)

Me: I'm pretty sure that would result in a much bigger, much more unpleasant mess in my keyboard.

CA: You can't do that, can you? That's right, you can't!

Me: I can't what? Fart?

CA: Yeah, because you got the [ostomy] bag.  Right?  I thought you couldn't fart anymore.

Me: I never got the bag.  Didn't I tell you that?  About a week before my surgery the doctor decided they could save my rectum so they just attached it to the small intestine.  I swore I told you that.

CA: I didn't know.  I thought you had the bag.

Other members of the Grey Carpet Area (hereby known as the GCA): Yeah, we knew.

Me: Yeah, no ostomy. Everything works about 90% the same as before.

CA: Oh jeez! I thought you had the other thing done, 'cause you always had that little red bag with you.

This red bag. From my awesome friend Sammi. Because Sammi is awesome.

CA: You're always taking it into the bathroom with you and everywhere you go.

Me:... that's my purse.  That's why it's with me all the time. Sometimes I'm on my period and need a pad and sometimes I just want to put on some lipstick.

CA: Holy shit! You're kidding me!

Me: (grabs purse and opens it) See?  No shit in here.  Well, okay, there's a lot of shit in here.  But no feces.

Me: That being said, if it ever does come down to an ostomy bag, I'd totally be into a Wonder Woman design.

(Fun Fact:  These exist.  Thanks for the link, SB!)

GCA: *hysterical laughter and smart ass comments.. including something along the lines of "Go for the Wonder Woman bag, because you don't wanna shit in a Gucci."*

CA:  Oh my god.  OH MY GOD.  The other day, when you dropped the plant..!¹  I was all worried because you left your bag on the floor next to all the dirt.. and you were nowhere near it.  I was panicking thinking something horrible happened to you, because you weren't with your bag!  That's why I picked it up and brushed it off and was all worried about getting it back to you!

(I had gone to get a broom. See footnote.)

Me:  I thought you were just being nice!

At this point, I have tears running down my cheeks, I am laughing so hard.  People are coming in from other departments to see what is going on and why we are laughing about pooh-bags and shitting in Gucci.

This must have been especially confusing to anyone who has joined our department since last January. I can kind of understand the confusion, because in all fairness, back when I was first diagnosed with colitis at the tender age of 18 and had the dreaded words "colostomy bag" uttered to me, I thought it would look kind of like a fanny pack.  At this purse, with its shoulder strap, does kind of sit over my hip, where an ostomy bag might go.

It's been a while since I've laughed that hard.  Cancer is bullshit, but poop jokes never get old.

---

¹The other day, coming into work, I attempted to carry two large spider plants, my tote bag, my purse and a coffee into the building in one trip and succeeded in dumping one of the plants upside down on the floor.  Considering I was carrying my travel mug in my cleavage, things could have gone much worse.

A Short, reflective post.

It has officially been six months since the last time I had a large intestine.  It's been seven months and a day since I received the cancer diagnosis that led to me parting ways with my large intestine, with whom I have for years had a tumultuous, codependent relationship.

It sounds like a cliche to say a lot has happened in the last six months.  A cliche and a lie.  I got the news. I wept. I raged.  I laid awake at night, contemplating my mortality.  I went into surgery, I came out of surgery, seven pounds of colon lighter.  I recovered, gradually.  Once, in a morphine haze, I advised my child who was dealing with a schoolyard bully to "just hit her."  

Parenting while on heavy painkillers is interesting, to say the least.

My tumor is currently still making the rounds somewhere in Utah, as geneticists search for the underlying cause as to why a 33-year-old woman would end up with colon cancer.

It was a great day when I heard the words "Stage One."

I got off the pain meds.  I started eating regular food again.  Mostly, anyway.  Some foods are less forgiving than they once were.  I went back to work.

I still worry.  A little part of me dreads September, when I will go in for my one-year scope.  By the way, I feel like the most popular girl at the ball, since it seems every doctor I've spoken with wants to get up in my junk with that sigmoidoscope.

Over half a year since my life changed, and yet, not much feels different.

Save the assholes, or Hey, apparently we get a month too!

Here's a fun fact I just found out via Tumblr.  Apparently, March is Colorectal Cancer Awareness month (or as i and others have referred to it, Asshole Cancer, because its fun to say and well, it's kind of an asshole).  Rather than take to the Facebook and invoke some meme where you post the colour and length of the skid-marks in your underpants, I'm going to take the time to spread some actual awareness, courtesy of the good folks at Colon Cancer Canada (www.coloncancercanada.ca) mainly because their tag line is "We're Behind Your Behind" which I think is cute as heck.  Other info is from my own personal experience with colon cancer.

So, some stuff you may not know:

Colon cancer is ridiculously treatable if caught early, yet has a high mortality rate because many people don't catch it until it is well advanced.  My grandpa Murray died from colon cancer, mainly because by the time they caught it, the cancer had spread to his liver.  On the other hand, my own cancer was discovered while in Stage one and was removed without the need for chemotherapy or radiation, mainly because it was found during a routine scope I had for my colitis.

The thing is, a lot of cases go undetected because folks can go a long time without showing any outward symptoms.

There are things you can keep an eye out for, however:

- blood in your stool.  Not just red.  Black or dark purplish stool can indicate blood as well.  I learned that the hard way.

- weird, random changes in bowel movements.  Getting all bunged up, or a constant case of the runs for no discernible reason.

- gas pains, stomach pains, bloating, pooping more (or less) than usual

- feeling like you gotta go, but not producing much.

- going, but not feeling empty

- sudden weight loss

- constant fatigue

These are things that might indicate a problem, but as mentioned, a lot of people don't experience any symptoms until the disease is well advanced.  This is one of those proactive things, where you're going to want to get screened, especially if you meet certain criteria for risk:

- you're over 50

- you have a history of irritable bowel disease, such as Crohn's Disease or Colitis (oh, hai! *waves*)

- family history of colorectal cancer. If its a parent, You're gonna want to start screening 10 years before the age they were diagnosed.  My lucky ladies will need to start screening in their early 20s.  Thanks, genetics!

- family history of inherited uterine, ovarian or breast cancer.

- have been previously diagnosed with polyps or precancerous cells

Screening can consist of a couple tests.  There's a fecal occult blood test, which sounds a lot more neat and spooky than it is, where you use a small stick to smear some of your poo on a card you get from your doctor who sends it to a lab to get checked for traces of blood.  

The other test is a colonscopy, which consists of having a tiny camera on the end of a long flexible tube inserted into your bum and up into your colon with the help of a localized anesthetic, and it is buttloads of fun *snicker*.  You'll be instructed to fast the day before and to take a purgative to clean out your system.  My advice is as follows for the pre-scope cleanse:

- don't make plans for the day

- stay near a toilet

- shell out for the softest, squishiest toilet paper you can afford.  It's worth it, trust me.

There's also the colonoscopy's little baby cousin, the flexible sigmoidoscopy, which is a smaller camera on a tube, about the size of that thing at the dentist they use to suck the spit out of your mouth.  The downside is they probably won't put you out for it, so its a bit uncomfortable, but the upside is that since you're awake, you might have the option of watching a video of your own rectum.  It's kind of gross and fascinating at the same time.  

Fun story: A few days after one of my sigmoidoscopies, we had a sewer back-up and they sent robots into the sewer to find where the blockage was.  Afterwards they gave us a copy of the video.  Had we had the scope-video, it would have made a rather humorous split-screen.

Anyway, during the scope they'll check for weirdness and abnormalities such as polyps, and may take tissue samples.  If biopsies are done, you may feel a bit sore and tender in the abdominal area for a day or two afterwards.  

So this is some basic info on screening and prevention, because for something that is fairly easy to treat if caught early, a whole lot of people die unnecessarily.  Food for thought.

I'm blaming Bruce McCulloch for this one.

So, this week has been the downer to end all downers.  September 30th, 2013 has officially gone down as the worst day of my life

"The worse day of your life so far." - thanks, Homer Simpson.

Worse than September 25th(ish), 1998 when I was rushed to the hospital with a leg the size of a deli salami and a colon that had been bleeding my life away for months. Worse than January 13, 2003 when a very pregnant me saw her marriage shatter (a blessing in disguise if you ask me).  Worse than April 19th, 2005, the day I watched my home go up in flames.  Worse than that random day that summer when I was fifteen where everyone was fighting and we were broke and everything sucked and I hated life (I don't remember the exact date, but it was pretty craptacular.)

Nope, this was worse than all of them.

As you may recall, I had a colonoscopy a few weeks ago, to follow up on one that the doctors couldn't quite figure out.  Turns out "there's something here and we don't know what isn't is"  IS kind of, tangentially, similar to "holy shit, look at all this cancer," since that's what they found, this go-round.  A malignant tumour in my colon that will need to be operated on as soon as my internal medicine guy talks with surgeons and finds out which hospital is comfortable with taking my case.  You see, it is apparently rare to find colon cancer in one as young as myself.  *flutters eyelashes becomingly*

Go me.  You know, I've never wanted to be a record breaker.

So, this week has been a regular whirlwind of blood tests, CT scans, emotional breakdowns, and inappropriate dark humour.  Actually, I'm pretty sure the five stages of grief need to be adjusted to include inappropriate dark humour as one of the stages.  When I split with the ex, there was a Kids in the Hall sketch that helped me get through it.  Whenever I was down, my friend and I would recite the Hotel LaRut sketch and dissolve into giggles.

Now, once again, during times of trouble, Dave, Mark, Kevin, Scott and Bruce give me solace.  Mainly meaning that I can't get this damn sketch out of my head.

So, thanks a lot Bruce.  You always were my least favourite.

Ahh, but yeah, aside from the awesome healing powers of Canadian sketch comedy, I'm also quite grateful for the ridiculous amount of support I have been recieving, from The Well-Travelled one, who has been marvellous in listening to me freak out and letting me break down, to my family who have offered help in any way possible.  Not to mention friends and the management at work.

I'm not gonna lie.  I'm pretty terrified about all this.  But so far i am functioning on a day to day basis while I wait for more answers.  At least I feel okay.  Which is kind of messed up.  I don't feel sick, like, AT ALL.  I'm gassy and bloated and have occasional stomach cramps.. All that is pretty much par for the course for me.  It's rather surreal but at the same time, I'm glad at least right now I'm not feeling like crap, physically.

I have a rough go ahead of me.  But I will fight.  In the words of Aunt Becky, I'm going to go EYE OF THE MOTHERFUCKING TIGER on this thing. I will win.