After months of pain and mental anguish, I finally got to a point where I couldn’t take it anymore. All super heroes have their limitations, right? I wasn’t looking forward to the hemorrhoid surgery that my husband and I were convinced I’d probably need. This conclusion was solely based on our combined Google and YouTube medical expertise and despite knowledge that we were missing it was obviously time to seek help.
I started with a trusted source. Not because she tried to assure me that looking at a butthole was the same as looking at an ear (*cough* bullshit!) but because I feel that she genuinely cares about her patients and takes to time to listen to their concerns. More importantly, she was willing to call me out on my nonsense. It’s evident that I’m not much of a fan of dry medicine. I’m sure some of you like to go to the doctor to get your facts straight up but I’d like to find the bush in every room and beat around it! Like, what were we even talking about? At any rate, I let her do the exam and even agreed to let her do my lady check up while she was in the neighborhood. The good news, I don’t have cervical cancer. The not so great news, I’d get a referral to see someone that could take… a deeper look. THE SAME DAY! Cringe.
Well, the shit had officially gotten real. It turns out that my issue wasn’t going to be resolved in that one visit. There was legit effort on my part. How dare the results not be my favor?! I now had to go see someone else. Someone that was going to be investigating my inner butt! So, during my second appointment of the day I run down my story again with a different doctor. “It’s hemorrhoids, bro, but it’s the really hurt-y kind, yada yada yada.”. Their reply was, “I don’t think this is hemorrhoids because hemorrhoids tend to be squishy. This feels hard. We’ll want to get you scheduled for a colonoscopy as soon as possible so that we can get a better look and determine what it is going on.” 😳 The hilarious part of that day is my butt didn’t even hurt for the first time in months but I had apparently hit the “no take backsies” part of this process and the appointment for a scope was on the books. Farts!
If you know anything about colonoscopies you know the prep is no joke. A large bottle of MiraLAX split between two Gatorades is all it takes to scrub her down. Once all the excitement was over I showed up to my appointment the next morning clean as a whistle and hella thirsty. A nurse wheeled me into the examination room and the anesthesia was administered. One minute I was chatting about the broccoli salad I was planning to make for Easter and then the next minute I was back in my patient room with my husband. Propofol is a hell of a drug! After I got my bearings I asked if he had heard anything from the doctor yet and he said, “You got cancer, yo!”. Ok, that’s not a exact quote but it’s pretty close. I think his anxiousness got the best of him. He did just find out that his wife likely had cancer, after all. I’ll excuse his poor bedside manner and allow him some grace in that moment, however, I won’t stop making fun of him for it!
The next hour consisted of me crying out what little moisture I had left in my body while hospital staff scurried around trying to get blood drawn from my dehydrated veins. It took a long time and was pretty damn painful. Cancer, huh? That’s crazy. Turns out my cancer wasn’t official that day but the doctor had seen enough of these that he was confident in what it was. A few days later the biopsy results confirmed it. All I could think about was our son. He’s 6 years old. The last thing I wanted to do was burden him with my illness or even try to begin the process of explaining what cancer is and what it could mean for us. Also, how the hell am I supposed to tell all of the other people in our lives. How deep into cancer treatment can I get before I absolutely had to tell my mom? I fought with this so hard but remember, no sadness!
The song on the radio as we were leaving the hospital was Shake Your Booty by KC & The Sunshine band. – ❤️ VA