For the next few days, I’m going to feel like Oprah or Ellen. I’m bestowing surprises in observance of the thrid anniversary of my cancer surgery.
On August 10, 2012, I received a bouncing baby stoma.
It wasn’t supposed to be that way. My magnificently gifted surgeon promised for months he would go in, remove the three-inch undifferentiated adenocarcinoma that was burrowing into my rectum and put me back together. Bing, bang, boom.
Not so much on the boom.
The surgery was complicated, the tumor was larger than expected, and radiation treatment left lots of scar tissue. In short, there weren’t two ends to reconnect. So, he had no choice but to punch a hole in my rectus abdominus muscle and thread the new end of my colon through.
I’ll poop into a bag for the rest of my life but oh, what an amazing life I’ve had since cancer invaded our world!
Three years out seems like a good time to pull out the stops and celebrate. My risk of recurrence is a bit lower than it was a year ago. The further out I get from my diagnosis, the better my odds. It’s party time!
Today, I sent flowers to the lovely Sarah. I wouldn’t have survived any of this without her. Flowers are the least I could do. Tomorrow, I’m celebrating my surgeon, the inimitable Dr. Greg Midis.
And then there is Friday, the most important anniversary date related to my cancer year. More on that later. After all, if I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise!
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