Day 3

On Monday, May 19th I went in for my yearly check up with my OB. Although it had been way more than a year since I had last been there. I was avoiding doctors because I knew if I went to the doctor, I had to mention the whole bloody poop thing and I just didn't want to face what was happening so I didn't go to the doctor. If that doesn't make sense to you, that is fine because it really doesn't make sense.

Anyhow, I told him about my stool (which is better? Stool or poop? haha, it's all awful.) I have been telling myself for months that my symptoms must be from internal hemorrhoids, which is a common problem during pregnancy and I had first started having issues when I was pregnant with my youngest and they just continued for the last 3 years getting progressively worse. Hemorrhoids are also a common lash girl problem because we sit in one place for so many hours at a time. This is what I told myself it was, even though things were getting worse.

OB didn't really find anything so he sent me to a colorectal doctor. On Wednesday, May 21st I saw the butt doctor. Rectal exams are humiliating, just FYI. He found one tiny little hemorrhoid but nothing to explain what was happening. When the exam was over, I looked him right in the eye and told him I was scared it was colon cancer. I was fully expecting him to do what my OB had done when I said the same thing to him 2 days prior "Oh, there is no way that it is that. You are way too young, you are super healthy, I'm sure it's just a fissure or a hemorrhoid."

That is not what butt doctor said. He looked at me, nodded his head and said, "You need to get a colonoscopy as soon as possible."

Well friends, that freaked me out pretty good.

I then had the longest week of my life. The waiting was horrible. I knew in my heart that it was bad. I knew something was really wrong. The night before the colonoscopy, I finally told my husband all of my symptoms. He was shocked. We spent the evening doing google search after google search, searching each individual symptom. And every time, cancer kept coming up as the cause.

I had known, in my gut, for probably months but was way happier living in denial than trying to face what was happening to me.

On Wednesday, May 28th, I had my first colonoscopy. And there it was - a quarter sized tumor.

I can't believe it's only Friday. I feel like I've known for weeks.

I am trying not to tell anyone until Sunday, because I don't want my young women to hear it from anyone but me. I don't want to tell anyone until I get the biopsy back (probably on Tuesday) and we know for absolutely sure. Because in spite of the fact that my tumor is irregularly shaped and bleeding, and my doctor has never seen a tumor like this in his 30 years of being a butt doctor that hasn't been cancerous, I still have this little voice inside my head that is saying "but what if it isn't? What if it isn't cancer? And then you told all these people that you probably have cancer and all they hear is that you have cancer and then you have to go back and say 'It isn't cancer.' I mean, gosh, what if they think you were just being overdramatic? Just wait till you find out for sure. Because maybe it isn't."

That little voice needs to shut up.

It's just hard to not tell people. My life has totally flipped upside down. I want to be the one who controls who finds out and when. I have certain people that I need to tell myself and not have them find out from someone else. Also, I could use the prayers. I have seriously felt so much strength and peace the last few days and I know it's because of my family and the few friends that know what is going on, they are all praying for me. And I feel it. And it's amazing. And humbling. And I really need every single prayer.

I was brave on Wednesday. I was brave on Thursday. Today, on Friday, I was not feeling so brave. I feel exhausted from trying to be brave.

I guess it's technically day 4 because now it's 1 in the morning. I didn't sleep hardly at all last night. I don't think I will tonight unless I take something. My brain just won't turn off.

We told the kids tonight at dinner. We didn't use the word 'cancer' but we did say that I was sick and I had something called a tumor. Kate got all teary and looked at me and said "Is that bad?"

That ripped my  heart out.

It is so sad to me that this is now my kids' story.

"I was 9 when my mom was diagnosed with cancer..."

"I was 9 when my mom was diagnosed with cancer..."

"I was 5 when my mom was diagnosed with cancer..."

"I was 3 when my mom was diagnosed with cancer..."

My baby had no idea what was going on. My 5 year old understood a little bit, but not really. My 9 year olds looked as though they had the weight of the world on their shoulders.

All in all it went pretty well. We told them that I was going to get worse before I got better. Ethan asked if I was going to get stitches. My first stitches. I haven't even broken a bone.

Kate said that it made sense. The SWAT team sent me flowers, wishing me to get well soon. I thought about hiding the card, but didn't. My husband's parents came over today, and brought me flowers. Kate looked at them quizzically but said nothing. I don't seem sick, so it's probably hard for them to wrap their brains around it.

Yep.