New poster here. My second post. For a year I had bleeding but was busy running shelters for fires in California so postponed being seen gastroenterologist until a friend dying from cancer urged me to please get a colonoscopy at once, and boom the news was made known then, and boom, I go to surgery and have six holes cut into my belly and send me through an extraterrestrial experience to wake up and be told all the cancer is gone and not spread to my lymph nodes or other organs, that I'm CURED.
I can hardly believe it. Cured? Did I become meat? Oh, "cured" as in "saved" -- only, I don't feel so saved. I feel like I've been hijacked by extraterrestrials. My surgery was six weeks ago and I'm just getting this new relationship with my gut, and sadly the day of my surgery, my friend was buried. So I am cured per his urging to get me checked out. All my loved ones were dismissive, telling me that I couldn't have cancer because I'm a 'positive person' (whatever!) and that I needed to not think about cancer or could bring cancer on -- that's a load of superstitious nonsense. My cancer is congenital and my dad, grandma, aunts, they all died from colorectal cancer. They are not with us because we have new technology which can detect earlier and help cure people.
But I must admit it's a mindset because when I hear I am cured, I don't believe it for a minute. In fact, I feel bitter some to be told I'm all cured when I feel like I just would like to die. This pain is incredible and the war on drugs has affected my pain relief, therefore I'm having to look into alternative medicine. I identify as "cancer patient" since I am still near the surgery.
I just anyone who's been "cured" here can go back to life as they were before... because if not, that's not really a cure but acquired disability so I say be sensitive to people who've gone through hell and back because while what's left of their body can remain on Earth, there are parts out there that feel they've been hijacked by extra terrestrials. Let me tell you, I was awake in the operating room and took note of all the lights and high tech computers and DaVinci roboarms with little hands and all the wires and corded pipes that would jack into me and compartmentalize my body... some holes were to pump in helium for blowing the skin around my flesh and bones into a Macy's Day Parade balloon (i kid you not -- that's done to make room for the stadium lights) -- next lights are tricked out to illuminate one robotic hand for slicing and dicing, the other robotic hand for grabbing and pulling then carrying to suction tube in another hole of the body. Meanwhile face is packed in plastic and nostrils and throat are intubated. Somehow I saw all this and yet was unconscious. The brain is a magnificent creature of recording events. Just because we were anesthetized and out cold doesn't mean that while we slept that we weren't present and conscious on some level, which is distressing some.......
"cured" to me does not quite match to par what "cured" ought to be because the word should be "nipped" -- I feel like my cancer was nipped in the bud and that my gut was nipped to save my life. That's not a cure. That's still a robbery -- somebody got a piece of me! Of course I want my colon back, but it's gone and if I could go through another surgery like this, I don't know if I would have that strength. It's so humbling and painful. As of right now I'm still in it and feel no way near cured. Nipped most certainly.