Monday morning I met my doctor, she ordered a CT scan of my abdomen. I had to have another not-so-nice drink, but at least I didn’t encounter the same onset affect of the pre-op laxative.
I lay down on the table with an O shaped scanning machine at my feet. The IV contrast dye burned as it entered my veins, I could taste metal in my mouth as it rushed to my head and then down to my feet. Lucky I’m good at multitasking because it made me feel like peeing my pants while having to hold my breath and I tried hard not to sneeze simultaneously.
My Doctor called later in the afternoon with the results. The good news is the mass appears to be contained in the colon but the bad news is, the operation will cost more than my savings for an apartment.
The next morning my Doctor calls again. “I have organized for genetic testing.” Why genetic testing I wondered?
A few minutes later a call from my gastroenterologist reveals why…
“It’s Cancer.”
I burst into tears.
“Do you want to come in after my last patient?”
“Yes,” I just managed to say.
I hung up. I sat on my bedroom floor. Time stopped. Maybe only the words “you have cancer” can stop time quite like that.
I felt calm and peaceful, the deepest peace I had ever felt.
I called my dad and cried as I told him…
“It’s cancer.”
With each person I called I cried again.
Then they cried.
We all cried together.
Love, Kerry Doyle xx
Photo Credit: Brian Bowen Smith
Love, Kerry Doyle 