Testing

This is a diary of my thoughts surrounding my being diagnosed with cancer. I am a 55year old woman. I am fit, strong and healthy. I have 2 adult daughters and I grandchild. In Australia there is a free government bowel screening program, a kit is sent to people over, I think, 50 and the test is taken at home and sent away to pathology, the results are then sent to your GP. I did the test when it was sent to me and the results came back positive for blood. My GP said don't worry it could be anything, have a second test, which I did. Then she rang me at home, at night,
and said all 3 samples were positive, that I had to book in for a colonoscopy ASAP. I had mixed feeling about it all. I had been a nurse and knew what the possible outcomes would be if I was diagnosed with cancer, but cancer is not a word that one easily associates with self.

I went for the colonoscopy on Friday 27th July 2007, it was not nearly as bad as I had been told. When I woke after the procedure, the nurse told me that the doctor wanted to see me in his office. I knew. They usually walk around and say, you are fine to go, your test was all clear. They don't ask patients to go to their rooms unless they have bad news.

The doctor was kind and compassionate and professional and I thank him for that. He was careful to make plain that I had bowel cancer but had sent biopsies away for pre-operative testing. I was booked in for a CT scan and an appointment with a surgeon. My CT scan was done just a few days later on Monday 30Th. It was OK, not painful or uncomfortable, but all these tests seem to involve drinking large quantities of liquid. The male nurse /technician who did the scan, bustled around, in a very professional way, keeping his distance, not wanting to make eye contact or connect with the people who might have fear in their eyes, wanting a reassurance from him that he could not give. I liked him, it was just the distance I needed.

The next day, Tuesday, I picked up the scans. I sat in the car, taking deep breaths, not wanting to read the results. I thought to myself that I had never been afraid to face things head on before, so just look at them. All my other organs were clear, the only sign of cancer was the one that the doctor had observed during the colonoscopy. A rare silent prayer of thanks. I could now start to deal with thoughts of the next steps in getting this thing out of my body.

Over the next few days I had to tell certain people about the diagnosis. I had already told my husband, who I don't live with, my daughters and their husbands. I dreaded telling my parents and 6 siblings. I rang my older brother, told him and asked if he could tell all my brothers and sisters after I had told mum and dad. He was very supportive and agreed to tell them. I told my parents, they are strong people and they were OK. I rang my brother and said OK now you can start telling the others, but he said, I think you should do it. He said he would if I insisted but that it would be better for me and for them if I did it. So the calls began. I called them all one after another, repeating the same information and found that by the time I got to the last one, I no longer had a lump in my throat. I was able to explain clearly and without emotion the details of the situation. He was right, in telling my story over and over, it had started to lose power over me. I was going to beat this thing. I knew it with absolute certainty.