Some News

I've been dreading this post and almost talked myself out of making it. But it's part of my life and what's happening now so here goes....

Today my father called and told me that I shouldn't come see Mom today. After some progress with her therapy she's now has C diff. She got it in the nursing home she's in right now. Several of the residents have come down with it. With her weakened immune system from the chemo I don't know what this will do to her. My grandmother died from complications of it. The reason he didn't want me to come is because of some upcoming procedures and possible surgery I might have to have.

Here is what has been going on with me...

My doctor has been asking me for the past year or so if I ever had heartburn or acid reflux. I told him very rarely and not in a long time. I thought it odd that he asked me everytime during several visits. I did tell him that I had trouble swallowing sometimes and a pain in my chest from time to time but it passed quickly and I figured I might have a 'hernia or something'. Finally during a visit last fall I told him about the pains again and some bleeding I was having. He convinced me to have an endoscopy and colonoscopy. I thought something might show up on the colonoscopy but was very surprised at what was found during the endoscopy. The GI doctor comfirmed that I did have a hiatus hernia as well as GERD, gastritis, and corrosive esophagus. He took several biopsies and told me that they would let me know about the results in about a week. He also gave me a prescription of Prilosec.

Surely enough a letter came from his office listing everything he had told me about plus something called Barrett's Esophagus. Of course I looked it up on the net because I've never heard of it. What I found was not good at all and I had a funny feeling about it. My husband told me to stop reading so much about it and it would probably turn out ok. A few days later a lady from the GI doctor's office called and asked me if I received my results and did I understand everything. She also went further and told me that they also found high grade dysplasia. Now I had read that was a pre-cursor to cancer so I was a bit worried. She told me they had scheduled a repeat endoscopy for February. They also had given me some literature about how I should take care of myself, what foods to avoid, and that I should have my upper torso elevated when I slept. There was also a list of lifestyle modifications to do, many of which I had already done.

I went into my endoscopy cautiously optimistic but a bit nervous. After it was over the doctor said some things looked better and some things looked worse. He told me I would get my results in a week or so and made an appointment for me in March to go over everything. He prescribed new meds and my insurance would not cover it without a pre-authorization. When I called their office to get that straightened out they lady said they would take care of it and I could talk to him the next day at my appointment. I told her I didn't have an appointment for a few weeks yet, but she told me my results were in and he had to talk to me then. I knew that couldn't be good. And of course I was right. I took my father with me and my husband met us there. When the doctor came in he looked uncomfortable. He opened the file and said the words I didn't want to hear. The results were back and I now have esophageal cancer. I looked him in the eye and told him I knew it. He asked how and I told him I just did. I think I knew back in November. Anyway he told me he was making an appointment for an ultrasound endoscopy for the next Tuesday. I knew that was to stage the cancer. After we know that we can make a plan of action.

That afternoon I called the people that wanted to know... family members, friends, and then went and told my mother. That was the part I had been dreading. I then went back to work and told my co workers. I went to my part time job and told the owner there. Everyone was surprised at my unemotional, matter-of-fact way of telling them. Little did they know when I was telling them it felt like I was talking about someone else. I don't know any way to explain it better than that. Sometimes it still feels like that, I know it's silly but it does. Maybe detachment is my form of coping. There are times when I think about it and the tears come. There's the uncertainty of what's ahead. I think I've wrote before of how change bothers me. Well, my life will change from this point on. It already has.